Lobelia the adverbially eclectic

I can't be for Italy. I can't be, I can't be, not since Grosso's rolling around in the grass in the 89th minute of the Australia game and the penalty that kicked Australia out of the World Cup.

The first World Cup I ever watched was 1978. I lived in Australia and got up in the middle of the night to watch it, with the sound turned down. I had put the TV in my bedroom and huddled in a blanket (June is winter in Sydney, as sophrosyne31 well knows. The game I remember had Italy in it and the players had the same hairdos they have now: long and lanky. I loved them! I was heterosexual even then, you see, at the tender age of 15. I think this was about the time I played soccer at school.

So it's not as if I've always been agin them. But this time round, when Australia qualified?

It breaks my fucking heart.

*too annoyed and depleted even to use a football icon because football icons make me feel happy but at the moment I am stinksauer* Was ist das auch mit den deutschen Bubis? Warum konnten die denn um Gotteswillen keinen Ball in dieses Tor reinbugsieren???!!! Immer auf den Mond schiessen! Und diese Schwalben, links, rechts und in der Mitte. At least, the ref wasn't affected. One guy fell down and decided to clutch his leg literally seconds later. Another one simulated an epileptic attack and then hopped up seconds later, miraculously healed, when no free kick was given.

I mean, the English are upset about diving. They should try playing Italy!!! I have to say, even back in 1978, when I loved them and found them hot, they had a dismaying propensity for the am dram histrionics.

*stomps off to bed*

Note my Australia icon. Go socceroos. :-(