Copa América Centenario

Yesterday Karin & I went to the south side of town, and then she dropped me off and I walked home by way of a detour into Southmore. I walked for approx. seven miles, my longest casual stroll in a few years.

Panera (Ireland Rd.) to Ireland/Fellows, 0.9 mi;
then to Fellows/Klinger, 1.1 mi;
then to Langley/Southmore, 0.4 mi;
then to Southmore/Montgolfier, 0.2 mi;
then to Southmore/Fellows, ? mi;
then to Fellows/Chippewa, 0.1 mi;
then to Chippewa/Addison, 0.2 mi;
then to Addison/Jennings, 0.3 mi;
then to Jennings/Michigan, ? mi;
then to Michigan/Sample, 1.7 mi;
then to the Farmer’s Market, 0.8 mi;
then to our home, 1.1 mi.

Total distance > 6.8 mi.

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I’d drafted a long entry about why the Copa América Centenario shouldn’t be held and why I wasn’t going to pay it any mind. But then the U.S. got brushed aside by Colombia, 2–0, and I watched a bit of the ineptitude of Haiti and Peru; and so I got into the mood to watch Ecuador vs. Brazil.

The match ended 0 to 0. Miller Bolaños’s perfectly good goal was disallowed.

R.I.P. Cruyff

The high school has installed a new computer in my office (the old one was put in in the ’90s). I was so delighted, I stayed at work even after I clocked out, to view the fonts.

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R.I.P. Johan Cruyff – arguably, the greatest soccer figure, ever. He was a patriarch of the Netherlands, of Ajax, and of Barcelona; a prescient strategist; a brilliant dribbler; and a Beatle-head.

He died of lung cancer.

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World Cup qualifier this afternoon. Ecuador vs. Paraguay, in Quito. Five o’clock U.S. Eastern Time.

On the one hand, we usually win this fixture, and lately the Paraguayans haven’t been very good.

On the other, we have a slew of injuries. Our front line is especially weak. Felipe Caicedo hurt himself recently in Catalonia. Miller Bolaños suffered a jaw-break in Brazil.

Énner Valencia returns after a long absence. But, everyone worries, is he truly fit?

Pray for Ecuador to win.

The puddle game

The Bolivians wore red, not green.

We Ecuadorians struggled mightily. Puddles obstructed us. Puddles defended against us more effectively than the Bolivians did. Like this:

How sad, I thought, that we’d fail to win at home, because of the puddles.

At halftime, the rain slowed and the groundskeepers did something to the grass and the puddles mostly vanished. And so we had forty-five “proper” minutes during which to construct a victory.

Despite our dominance, the situation seemed grim. At last, Juan Cazares and Miller Bolaños created a goal out of a lovely, long-distance wall pass (which, earlier, would have been obstructed by the puddles).

We also converted a penalty at the end.

Some highlights.