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Spain was clearly the best team in the World Cup and it deserved yesterday’s 1-0 victory over Holland. It controlled the ball and the tempo for most of the match, dominated overtime, and generally played far prettier soccer.
The only thing the Dutch were superior at yesterday — and what they excelled at throughout the entire Cup — was fouling, diving and crying to the referee. The worst, of course, was Arjen Robben — seen here in the midst of his Cry-Baby routine during an earlier match. (This, incidentally, was a rare instance of Robben whining in an upright position; he was so busy trying to draw fake fouls that he was rarely on his feet for more than a minute at a time.)
Some commentators have joked that Robben deserved an Oscar for Best Acting, but that suggests he was convincing in his non-stop flopping. Great acting it was not. At least twice I saw Robben actually grimace and pretend to be in great pain well before he even hit the ground. (At which point he’d curl into the fetal position and clutch at his leg in a manner suggesting that only an immediate amputation could save his life.)
Then there was the constant fouling by the Dutch, most egregiously the first half chest kick of Xabi Alonso by Nigel de Jong. That was the worst foul of the entire Cup and deserved a red card.
So congratulations to Spain, and to Holland–grow up before 2014.
My prediction for the next Cup: Having already fired Dunga, Brazil returns to playing attack-oriented football and wins the Cup on its home turf, defeating Spain 3-1 in the final.
You read it here first. If it happens, I’ll remind everyone of this post. And if it doesn’t, no one will remember I wrote it. That’s the beauty of blogging.
More from Ken Silverstein:
Commentary — November 17, 2015, 6:41 pm
The Clintons’ so-called charitable enterprise has served as a vehicle to launder money and to enrich family friends.
Freddie Gray’s relatives arrived for the trial in the afternoon, after the prep-school kids had left. By their dress, they seemed to have just gotten off work in the medical and clerical fields. The family did not appear at ease in the courtroom. They winced and dropped their heads as William Porter and his fellow officer Zachary Novak testified to opening the doors of their police van last April and finding Freddie paralyzed, unresponsive, with mucus pooling at his mouth and nose. Four women and one man mournfully listened as the officers described needing to get gloves before they could touch him.
The first of six Baltimore police officers to be brought before the court for their treatment of Freddie Gray, a black twenty-five-year-old whose death in their custody was the immediate cause of the city’s uprising last spring, William Porter is young, black, and on trial. Here in this courtroom, in this city, in this nation, race and the future seem so intertwined as to be the same thing.
Average speed of Heinz ketchup, from the mouth of an upended bottle, in miles per year:
After studying the fall of 64,000 individual raindrops, scientists found that some small raindrops fall faster than they ought to.
The Playboy mansion in California was bought by the heir to the Twinkie fortune, and a New Mexico man set fire to his apartment to protest his neighbors’ loud lovemaking.
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“Matt was happy enough to sustain himself on the detritus of a world he saw as careening toward self-destruction, and equally happy to scam a government he despised. 'I’m glad everyone’s so wasteful,' he told me. 'It supports my lifestyle.'”