Alls I knows about Spain is that they suck and they cause headaches. Alright, the first one may not be true, but you try telling my head that the latter is false. Oh yeah, I knows another thingy: Spain is boring. They do not play a beautiful style. They are close, but without a high-caliber striker, they are deficient in a key category of soccer grace. Their preferred target men are both unavailable for this tourney, leaving them with dos options: to play without a striker or throw out a secondary scrub. David Vila – who is not even a true striker, yet is capable of playing there – is out with a broken leg and Fernando Torres was eaten by his poor-finishing doppelganger, who largely sits on the bench. This leaves Spain with playing a less than world-class option up top or playing with six midfielders. Yesterday they opted to go with Alvaro Negredo at striker, at least on paper. I certainly never saw him on the pitch, until he was subbed out for a midfielder shortly after halftime, so Spain could go with their drab game of short passes that lead to nothing. Funny enough, even with this puissant midfield – that commentators are too quick to suck off – Portugal looked like the superior and more threatening squad in the 90 minutes before extra time. It was not until Portugal was obviously settling for their roll of the proverbial dice in penalties that Spain flexed their midfield muscle.
Yes, I am a little bitter that my 18-1 shot Portugal lost last night. Yet, there is a moral we can all learn from here: Do not go to a volleyball/BBQ/going away party for most of the evening, then stay up past the time the calendar flips to watch a Euro semi, only having to wake up at 5am the next day. This holds especially true if you do not even know the person who was going away. However, if you do not know said lass, it is always a great idea to go up to her before you leave, let her know how we will all miss her dearly, and stumble off. You are welcome, dear readers.