Tangosz here, humble correspondent of all things USA U21. I apologize for the late updates, and the complete absence following the victory over Brazil. Circumstances here in Africa have gotten..challenging..and I seem to be sufferring from multiple ailments. I mean there's this terrible itch, and it hurts when I go...Well, I am not here to list my aches and pains. I am here to report on the progress of the USA U21 team!
This previous Monday saw the final game in the 2nd round of the U21 Worlds, with the 4-2 USA team battling the 3-3 Italians. Now, this wasn't a must win for the Americans, as there were multiple scenarios where a modest loss was acceptable. Sadly, I find myself woefully unequipped to relate them to you, as thinking about all the permutations makes me crosseyed.
In the end, the Italians gave all the effort they had, while the Americans saved theirs, to use it in future games. It worked out well, for although the Americans lost by 18 points, their 4-3 record with +20 point differential allowed them to come through, making the Worlds Semifinals for only the 2nd time in team history!
After the completion of the game I headed straight to Italia's locker room.
I prepared just one of my signature, hard hitting questions to unleash on an unsuspecting interviewee. I walked up to PG Primo Bertocco, who had drained 26 points against the USA, helped by a strong 4 of 5 shooting from behind the 3 point line:
"So, if Silvio Berlusconi leaves Rome at 6:45 PM, travels 60 MPH for 1.25 hours, and a score of hookers who weigh on average 115 pounds (implants included!) leave their brothel at 7:15, traveling at 45 MPH, what time will they reach his villa, and how much money will he need to pay in bribes to stay Prime Minister?"
I never got an answer, as Bertocco's arm suffered a spasm, his fist narrowly missing my face. Hope that condition doesn't derail his promising career! Shrugging, I went to the USA lockerroom.
The mood was in good spirits, despite the loss. The team knew they had made it to the next round, and that there was plenty of energy left in the tank to make a run at the gold trophy. Coach Rambo looked pleased, though he seemed to look askance at me as I entered.
The players were mostly just hanging out, knowing that this was just one more step. Big men Mike Merrill
(16433183) and Terrance Hammond
(16442250), so instrumental in the USA's inside attack, were stretched out, and smirked at me when they saw me. For a moment I thought someone baa-ed like a sheep? That was odd.
Some of the US guards weren't as content as Merrill and Hammond though. Jimmie Brown
(16436514) had had a poor day shooting, going just 3 for 16. He was armored himself the "Wilson Battle Cup," an athletic supporter/protector on the outside of his uniform shorts. PG Kenny Luther
(16433258) had also had a subpar game, with 5 turnovers. He kept his backside to the wall, ever vigilant for the snap of the Coach's Towel.
"Hey Tangosz, how are you?" Kenny said as I approached. "You look a bit better than the last time we saw you!" He snickered as he said it.
"Last time? What do you mean?"
"No, don't you remember the post Brazil-game party? You looked pretty good in that feather headdress, channeling your best Carnival diva!"
The hazy memories flooded back. The gracious Brazilians had hosted the Americans to a churrascaria style feast, followed by plenty of liquor and dancing. I groaned.
I started to blush, turned to go, and bumped into Coach Rambo. "Don't miss another update," he uttered through gritted teeth. "And if you can't control yourself, I'll ban you from covering the team's postgame activities."
Shuddering, I returned to my hotel. I still had many questions. Like, why
doI have this itch? I got all my shots. And why does my room smell like sheep? Never fear though my loyal readers! I will surely uncover all the facts, and you will be the first to know!