The piano (cont.); World Cup notes

The piano has been moved to the kitchen, its likely resting-place for as long as we live in this house.

Now we must learn to play the thing.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

What follows is highly selective.

Ivory Coast 1, Ecuador 0: An even, chaotic contest decided by an 89th-minute goal. Chaos doesn’t favor Ecuador. Our strength is tidy defending.

Piero Hincapié had trouble marking 19-year-old Yan Diomande. The goal came from an attack down that flank.

Thrice we hit woodwork. Our attacking woes continue. I will say, it’s hard when foulers aren’t penalized. The Ivorians were spared a couple of second yellow cards.

Brazil 1, Morocco 1: Has-been vs. emerging superpower. The same is true of their respective continents. The Moroccans were breathtaking in the first half; having established their superiority, they ceded the initiative. Brazil had a single brilliant moment.

Australia 2, Türkiye 0: The most entertaining game so far.

(Some would choose the Netherlands vs. Japan [2–2].)

I love watching the Turks. They attack at breakneck pace, slickly, all game long. But the Australians defended stoutly and landed two counter-punches.

USA 4, Paraguay 1; Germany 7, Curaçao 1; and Sweden 5, Tunisia 1: Three blowouts that tell little about the winners (and not much more about the Tunisians, who fell apart late but weren’t consistently bad).

Mid-half hydration breaks, twice per game: I am sick of them.

Body-text fonts, pt. 40: Van Dijck

“Based on Dutch Old Style types of the 17th century” (Identifont).

(I have inverted the colors.)

Exiled from Britain, Locke took shelter in the Netherlands. Kudos to the publisher for nodding to this fact with this choice of type.

This sample is from the mid-1970s. Nowadays, the blandest, “safest” Adobe font would be used: scholarly Quality Control has all but banned panache. Pity, because what other thrill is to be had, reading seven hundred pages of Locke?

More results

Copa América quarterfinals

Argentina 1 (4), Ecuador 1 (2). We outplayed the world champions but lost the shootout. Pity.

We almost were knocked out by soccer kindergarteners, one Argentinian journalist complained.

Our coach, Félix Sánchez Bas, a Spaniard, resigned afterward. Rumor has it, his wife and children have been unhappy in Ecuador; they may even have been bullied by fans. I’m very sorry if this is the case. Sánchez is likely to take another job in Qatar.

Brazilians and Uruguayans are scoreless as of this writing. Canada beat Venezuela in another shootout, and Colombia thumped Panama, 5–0, in the Darién Classic.

UK general elections

Labour thumped the Tories. No Tories won seats in Wales.

Euros

Türkiye 2, Austria 1. A good game. Afterward, the Turkish goalscorer, Merih Demiral, was suspended. The Dutch eliminated the Turks today.

Spain 2, Germany 1. A good game. Alas, yellow cards were distributed willy-nilly, and various players were suspended. Spain’s is the only pleasing team left in these Euros.

The French are still tedious to watch, and the English are still putrid. Both teams have reached the semifinal round. Both could reach the final. Wouldn’t that be nice.

I liked what the Mexican commentators said about the English and Dutch fans: For all their color, they’re tepid once the game starts, probably because they’re already soused.

This would explain why the Turks outcheer pretty much everyone during the games.

A bonus poem

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Look at these trophies.

See how my trophies gleam in the sunlight.

See how they shine.

What do you think it took to become

English hammer-throwing champion nineteen sixty-nine?

Do you think in that moment, when my big moment came,

That I treated the rules with casual disdain?

Well? Like hell!

As I stepped up to the circle, did I change my plan?

Hmm? What?

As I chalked up my palms, did I wave my hands?

I did not!

As I started my spin, did I look at the view?

Did I drift off and dream for a minute or two?

Do you think I faltered or amended my rotation?

Do you think I altered my intended elevation?

As the hammer took off, did I change my grunt,

From the grunt I had practised for many a month?

Not a jot, not a dot did I stray from the plot.

Not a detail of my throw was adjusted or forgotten.

Not even when the hammer left my hands

And sailed high up, up above the stands, did I let myself go.

No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No!

If you want to throw the hammer for your country,

You have to stay inside the circle all the time,

And if you want to make the team,

You don’t need happiness or self-esteem,

You just need to keep your feet inside the line.

Sing, children – two, three, four!

If you want to throw the hammer for your country,

(Habinot est magitem.) [Suitable is more.]

You have to stay inside the circle all the time.

(Circular! Magitem! Magitem!) [More! More!]

And if you want to teach success,

(Aaah …)

You don’t use sympathy or tenderness.

(Tenderness …)

You have to force the little squits to toe the line!

Sing, Jenny – two, three, four!

If you want to throw the hammer for your country,

(Regotem … Regotem varia magitem …) [To guide … To guide variety more …]

You have to stay inside the circle all the time.

(Tempero es te iste is.) [Thee are to control it.]

Apply just one simple rule –

To hammer-throwing, life, and school –

Life’s a ball, so learn to throw it.

Find the bally line, and toe it,

And always keep your feet inside the line.

Now get out.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

From Matilda the Musical; lyrics by Tim Minchin.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Samuel, in a pleading voice: “Soccer on Peacock?”

John-Paul: “Tomorrow we will watch some soccer on Peacock.”

Samuel: “We will watch Netherlands versus Japan.”

John-Paul: “We will watch Croatia versus Argentina.”

Samuel, happy: “We will watch Croatia versus Argentina.”

He has a deck of cards with flags, country names, and capitals on them. He likes to put two cards opposite each other and announce the soccer matchup. “Denmark versus North Korea.” Or else: “Germany versus Thailand.”

That’s the spirit.

His Spanish pronunciation is improving, too.

Quarterfinals 1 and 2 – the best day of the World Cup; December’s poems

I am in awe of the Croatians. They are BALLERS. I doubt I could think more highly of a soccer team.

Brazil, not so much.

The key contest was between Casemiro and Luka Modrić. (Casemiro is Brazil’s grownup.) Modrić outduelled Casemiro all game long, including during the building up of Croatia’s goal.

Other pundits have highlighted Marcelo Brozović, whose job it was to subtly close off Neymar.

The Brazilian fans sang and danced, and I was like, don’t you understand that your team is getting schooled? That the Croatians are better than the Brazilians with the ball (and, certainly, better without it)? That they are doing what they like to do, which is strenuous and sophisticated: doing it with steel and style: and the Brazilians aren’t?

Great soccer nation or not, these colorful fans are just that: fanatics.

The second quarterfinal, between Argentina and the Netherlands, was made wild by some erratic refereeing, as well as by the Netherlands’s launching long, high passes into the box in a desperate attempt to even the score. It worked; but the Argentinians, who were briefly unsettled, gathered themselves, seized control again, and won the penalty shootout.

Messi is right to complain. The ref hurt Argentina. Even so, the Argentinians used the ref to mess with the Dutch. Their breaches of etiquette – deliberately handling the ball, kicking it into the Dutch bench – were so brazen, the ref didn’t know what to do about them, and the Dutch were put out of sorts. It behooved the Dutch, who were down by two goals, to put the Argentinians out of sorts, and they did, but then the Argentinians made sure the Dutch were put out, too, and the Dutch came out worse.

Two of the day’s goals – one scored by Neymar, the other assisted by Messi – were exquisite. The Dutch worked a stunning free-kick goal.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

This month, the poem is by me.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Sometimes, it’s hard to be a daddy

He changes diapers all day long

He changes Danny’s

He changes Sammy’s

And, as he does, he sings this song

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Apologies to Tammy Wynette.

I had to change a diaper while Morocco and Spain contested their penalty shootout in the octavos de final. I did a wipe, watched a penalty kick, did a wipe, watched a penalty kick …

All right, that wasn’t much of a poem, so here is one from The Atlantic: “Ode to Not Watching the World Cup.”

I am not convinced …

We crash out; the French-born; a movie for the family

Congratulations to the Senegalese, who outplayed and beat us.

The Dutch outplayed and beat the Senegalese.

We outplayed the Dutch but unluckily didn’t beat them. So, we crashed out.

(All three countries outplayed and beat the Qataris by the same number of goals.)

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

This four-year-old Vox video is truer than ever. The French talent pool is deep. France supplies the rest of the world with players: especially, the African teams.

This time, France is without some of its top stars; but the reality is, it could field half a dozen decent teams in a single World Cup – teams so competitive that on a good day, a “B” or “C” French team could beat the “A” team. This afternoon, Tunisia, with ten French-born players on its roster, beat France-proper. Tunisia was unlucky not to qualify out of its group.

If Senegal defeats England – which isn’t beyond imagining; it will be a bruising game for the English – Senegal could face France in a quarterfinal. A largely French-born, French-trained team could knock out France.

(Click to enlarge.)

This raises interesting questions for the French constitutional principle of laïcité, which explicitly concerns itself with religious identity but often is interpreted as applying to other forms of identity. “France does not refer to its citizens based on their race, religion or origin. To us there is no hyphenated identity,” the French ambassador to the U.S. famously said after the 2018 World Cup. What, then, to make of French citizens who try to defeat the French team in the name of Senegal or Tunisia? Do they not belong to the French nation? (Legally, they surely do.) Or, by French cultural lights, do they not truly represent those other countries? Do the ambassador’s words imply that the Tunisian team is a cultural sham?

I have no very firm grasp of how the French themselves would answer these questions. (Not that I’d insist that only the French are entitled to decide what it is to be French, even if they are entitled to decide who is French.) But it does seem to me that French national identity has different sorts of conditions than, say, U.S. national identity. This should give pause to identity activists and theorizers. In this era of identity politics, national identity is too often overlooked, or it’s taken for granted as a fixed part of the background. But it is not equally fixed by the same variables everywhere, even if, everywhere, the law helps to fix it; and its significance and function vary from nation to nation.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Tonight our family took a break from watching murders. Instead, we watched Minions, which, many years ago, was either the first or the second movie that Karin & I saw together in a theater. Samuel walked around repeating Minion-gibberish and catchphrases like “Respect, power, banana!” Daniel, who was still wearing his oversized Ecuador shirt after yesterday’s game, himself looked like a little yellow Minion.

The Netherlands 1, Ecuador 1; 1996, the best year in movie history, pt. 57: Walking and talking

Ecuador dominated the Netherlands. The teams drew, but it felt like the famous headline: “Harvard Beats Yale 29–29.”

The Netherlands took an early lead, but Ecuador fought back and scored at the end of the half. I yelled and celebrated. Samuel and Daniel cried. Then the goal was disallowed because a static player in an offside position was adjudged to have “interfered with” the goalie. (He didn’t.)

When Enner Valencia scored the tying goal, a little after halftime, I didn’t yell or celebrate. I don’t think I shall, anymore.

The final score barely mattered. Ecuador was breathtakingly good. I was very, very happy and proud.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

This is what the World Cup has taught Samuel to say:

“A Visa card.”

“Adidas shoes.”

“Dior.”

“Westin.”

“Hilton. For the stay.”

“Medio tiempo presentado por T-Mobile.”

“Only on Peacock. A Peacock original series.”

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Karin put on a couple of Beavis & Butt-head YouTube videos, and now Samuel goes around asking to watch “Beavis and Buff-head.”

“Maybe when you’re older,” I tell him. “Maybe when you’re twenty-five.”

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Walking and Talking

This review is a nod to Anne Heche, who died this year. She and Catherine Keener play lifelong friends in their early thirties who stumble through relationships with men and with each other. “Bleak,” Karin kept on saying, and then in the second half of the movie she laughed a lot.

The funniest situations are carefully built up over many scenes. One first-class joke is about the removal of a mole. (It struck a chord with Karin & me: early in our marriage, we worried about a particularly suspect mole.) In another remarkable scene, the Heche character dreams or hallucinates or has a vision of the mole, leading to a pointless quarrel with her boyfriend.

Physical insecurity is treated with shrewdness. The theme recurs in other movies directed by Nicole Holofcener, e.g., Lovely & Amazing and my favorite, Please Give. Her characters worry about everything from skin blemishes to general ugliness to cancer and dementia. The women are touchy about these things, but so are the men.

It’s good to have movies like this, with not-that-much-better-than-average-looking people whose attitudes about their bodies are true to life.

The director John Stockwell (Crazy/Beautiful, Blue Crush, Into the Blue) is good at making his actors look really, really hot. His movies are masterpieces. But it’s good of Holofcener to provide an antidote. Man cannot live on eye candy alone.

The key to dealing with insecurity, Holofcener demonstrates again and again, is self-respect. This is different from thinking yourself beautiful, which can be a trap because (a) beauty fades, and (b) you end up worrying whether you and your friends are beautiful enough. Rather, if you are self-respecting, you have no truck with people who are willing to denigrate you because of your physical appearance. Paradoxically, self-respect is outward-, not inward-looking: it has to do with not selling yourself short in your comportment with others. The self-respecting character in Walking and Talking is a nerdy video-store clerk (Kevin Corrigan). Most people would write him off as a loser, but he is a mensch.

The other characters are more fragile, and they are often thoughtless and even cruel. But there is hope for them. They are learning.

This is a funny and good-hearted movie.

Ecuador 2, Qatar 0; England 6, Iran 2; tornadoes

I had to wait twenty years to see Ecuador play for the first time in a World Cup. I lived through five World Cups before Ecuador ever qualified for one. Oh, the shame and helplessness of those years.

Samuel and Daniel saw their very first World Cup game yesterday, and Ecuador played in it.

Ecuador scored the first goal after three minutes. Stephen and I jumped up and yelled and celebrated. Samuel and Daniel were startled. They cried.

Then the goal was disallowed because a player was offside.

Stephen and I couldn’t see the infraction – not even after the replay was shown. I gather that 99% of the world couldn’t see it, either. That doesn’t mean it didn’t exist. Offside is decreed by technology now. Good thing, because if a human referee had decided that we were offside on that play, FIFA and the host nation would have lost all credibility.

In any case, fútbol-wise, Qatar was doomed. Ecuador was better by about ten miles. The only question, at that point, was whether the referee would permit Ecuador to win.

Then, after twelve minutes, he awarded Ecuador a penalty kick. (He couldn’t have done otherwise, really.) He should have shown Qatar’s goalie a red card, but, understandably, he let the host nation off the hook.

Enner Valencia, who had been missing his penalty kicks in recent games, calmly scored. Stephen and I were quiet this time.

The rest of the game was a walk-through for Ecuador. The Qataris were rattled and simply awful. The Ecuadorians were more cautious than I should have liked. Valencia scored again later in the half, and then Ecuador rested. Or tried to; Qatar kept on fouling.

The Ecuadorian supporters could be heard cheering. Many Qatari supporters left at halftime.

In this video, one of the soberer analysts on U.S. television describes the Qatari exodus. Some of the numbers he cites seem off, but the lesson is clear enough.

How valuable was this victory? We got the points. We regained some confidence after a series of lackluster practice games. Our main scorer regained his form. Were we good? Impossible to say. Qatar was so, so bad. We could have tried harder to score more goals, but it was crucial to rest and calm down. The games against the Netherlands and Senegal will be very hard.

This analysis is fair.

For one day, we led the whole world in the standings – something which also happened during the 2006 World Cup. Then, this morning, England beat Iran 6 goals to 2. Iran looked miles and miles better than Qatar.

Here is Un mundo inmenso’s take on this World Cup.

Now, something different. Samuel asked to watch more tornado videos, so I put on Netflix’s series Earthstorm. It has the best tornado footage I’ve seen. I highly recommend it.

A “budget” option

Monday is a bank holiday, the holiday of Washington and FDR and Trump and the fellow buried in Grant’s tomb, who might be my favorite of them all because he was the best writer. (The criterion isn’t so ludicrous. Whenever I see informal polls about the greatest [U.S.] Americans of the 19th and 20th centuries, writers get lots of votes, and I often catch myself thinking of writers first – especially, Frederick Douglass and Mark Twain – not so much because of what they did or stood for, though that also matters, but because of how they wrote.) Anyway, today, Karin worked her last shift in a good while. She expects to be on maternity leave through March – which isn’t a paid leave, she keeps having to tell people who assume otherwise. It’ll be good to have her at home. It’ll be good, though not so pleasant, to live more frugally.

Speaking of frugality.

I’d known about the Cambridge Elements book series, but I hadn’t known that so, so many of those books are free to download (some only temporarily).

Most are shorter than 100 pages. They all try to painlessly introduce the reader to important recent scholarship.

This webpage states the series’s goals and subject categories, and this one lists the titles in reverse publication order. You can see which books are currently free by ticking a box on the left.

I can vouch for this author, a professor of whom I was fond. Is he the world’s leading free-will philosopher? Maybe. Does he believe in free will? No; he comes as close to believing as one can do while disbelieving, which is cheeky. Does he believe in moral responsibility? Not if it should require free will; but he is open to revising the concept so that a person can be held responsible even if she isn’t free. Is he a religious believer? Yes. He is a Calvinist. But his main arguments don’t presuppose much, or anything, by way of doctrine. But whatever you think of his position, the point of reading this book is to get an overview of the recent secular literature, and so it is valuable.

Is he a great writer and therefore a great (U.S.) American? I should say not; he was born in the Netherlands, and as for his identification with this side of the pond, I believe that when he wrote his most famous book he was merely a Canadian.

His Cambridge Elements book is free to download through February 23.

Three soccer finals

On Sunday, the final matches were held for three major tournaments.

The Women’s World Cup final

I watched much of this – but not all of it (there were competing obligations of church and lunch).

The gringas appeared to be as dominant as they ever have been in history.

The Dutch weren’t bad, exactly, but their plan was too timid: they defended near their own goal and tried to counterattack with just one or two players. Their goose was cooked when they committed a ridiculous penalty foul which gave the USA the lead.

On the gringas’ second goal, the Dutch backpedaled down the middle of the field until the opposing ball carrier was close enough to shoot.

Here are scenes of the gringas partying in their locker room.

The Copa América final

This was a good, old-fashioned Southern Cone-style brawl. Don’t let Brazil’s glamorous reputation fool you. This team is basically another Uruguay – very tough on defense, organized without the ball, slick in attack at the most devastating moments.

The referee called two controversial penalties – one for each side, which I thought good – and had the guts to eject the diaper boy Gabriel Jesus.

Let me forestall misunderstanding: I like Gabriel Jesus, despite his rather sordid tastes (according to Wikipedia, he “reportedly chose to wear number 33” for his club team, Manchester City, “in tribute to the age at which Jesus Christ is believed to have been crucified,” and he and fellow diaper boy Neymar “got matching tattoos … depicting a boy overlooking a favela”). On the field, everything Gabriel Jesus does is productive – which distinguishes him from Neymar.

If Neymar had been playing, I doubt Brazil would’ve been able to control the game so well without the ball. Neymar would’ve insisted on dribbling everywhere.

Instead, he watched from the stands. (The next day, he would miss a training session for his club team, Paris Saint-Germain, triggering much speculation in the press.) He’d been left off Brazil’s roster because of an ankle injury. He’d also been accused of rape.

His replacement, Everton, won the tourney’s Golden Ball award and, in the final match, scored a goal and drew a penalty foul.

Of the Peruvians, we can say that they played well but were unable to break down the Brazilian defense.

The Gold Cup final

I only saw the highlights of this final, which appears to have been a closer contest than I expected.

Some of my friends here in South Bend are diehard USA fans. I wonder: did any of them make the trip to Soldier Field in Chicago?

If so, what was it like in that cauldron, 75% of which was occupied by fans of Mexico?

A fallow season

These are the semifinalists:

France
Belgium
England
Croatia

As you can see, three of them are located within a stone’s throw of one another. Coincidence? Geographic determinism?

The latter probably has a lot to do with it. But this isn’t the occasion for explaining why.

Coincidence probably has a lot to do with it, too. It’s coincidental that Belgium has so many talented players just at this time. Also, if geography determined everything, the Netherlands would’ve qualified for the World Cup; but, as it happens, this is a fallow season for the Dutch.

Actually, this is a fallow season for just about everyone. In my view, the quality of international soccer in the last four years has been pretty low, and we’re witnessing the denouement of this state of affairs.

As one of Telemundo’s announcers said during the quarterfinal between England and Sweden: “One of these teams will be a World Cup semifinalist.”

He paused. “Is my meaning clear?”

“As clear as the day,” said his partner.

As Clint Eastwood has said: Deserve’s got nothing to do with it.

The LimeBike

As Borat says, “In my country, there is problem / And that problem is transport.”

Well, South Bend has joined in an experiment to make transport better, or, at least, more hip. It has adopted the LimeBike system.

Behold these young Seattleites riding LimeBikes.

The system works like this. Garish green bikes are planted all over the city. When you find one, you scan its QR code with your phone. This allows you to ride for up to 30 minutes.

$1 is charged to your tab.

Afterward, you leave the bike in any accessible, unobtrusive place (e.g., on the grass next to a public sidewalk).

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

I strongly disapprove of car transport, and so you’d think I’d have high hopes for the LimeBike.

Alas, I don’t.

I don’t think the LimeBike ever will become popular enough to significantly change the transport system. South Benders will continue to drive.

If I recall correctly, that’s what’s happened in the Netherlands. For many years, the Dutch have had a generous bike-sharing system. And many Dutch do use it: cycling is an important part of their culture. But few Dutch commuters switch over from driving cars.

My conjecture is that no matter what country you go to, introducing more bikes won’t change the overall transport preferences.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

But suppose that LimeBikes were to become popular in South Bend, or were perceived to be popular. That would be dangerous, lest support be withdrawn from public bussing.

Mass transit is what really matters to poor people. No one too poor to own a car would wish to depend on some dumb bike. Especially not in snow or rain. And not in old age or illness or affliction.

For the occasional light errand, the LimeBike is OK. Though it isn’t cheaper than riding the bus, in some circumstances it’s more practical. But as a significant influence upon transit patterns, it’s less likely to help than to hurt.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Also, the LimeBike reminds me of Dr. Seuss’s Pale Green Pants. I keep seeing it in strange places, as if it were following me.

This week, there’s been a LimeBike in my parking lot. Every day, the thing has moved a little closer to my building. Now it’s sitting on my front porch.

It creeps me out.

In Seattle, the LimeBike has taken to hanging from the trees.

And in South Bend, it keeps on appearing in the river, as if it were Ophelia.

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.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

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.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

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.

Argentina 0 (4), Holland 0 (2); Germany 1, Argentina 0

The Dutch and the Argentinians were very tidy — so tidy, the ball hardly went near to either goal. But see how bright their colors were.

The final was spectacular: I don’t recall a better one. (I’m too young to remember the final of 1986.) The Argentinians were much less tentative than against the Dutch. Their goal chances were dangerous and well-crafted — better than the Germans’ — though the Germans held the ball better.

In the end, attrition made the difference.

Mario Götze, a late substitute, drifted into empty space, unmarked by Martín Demichelis and the weary Ezequiel Garay (cf. Mourinho’s comments). A pass was floated in to Götze: he chest-trapped, volleyed, scored.

Mediocre earlier in the tournament, he finished as the hero.

The thing from IKEA

Four underwhelming semifinalists.

This article is correct: this has not been the most interesting World Cup.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Yesterday, Mary and Mother went to an IKEA near Chicago. They ate the meatballs and came home with this thing:

(Photo by Edoarda)

(It has the same color as our curtains. Mary says this is our “accent” color.)

Mary and I assembled the thing in our living room, and then we wheeled it into the kitchen. We stood and looked at the thing. We wondered what to use it for:

• for holding books (specifically, cookbooks);
• for holding whatever other books I might happen to be carrying around the house;
• for holding Mary’s diabetes supplies (one shelf for her insulin bottles, another for her syringes, etc.);
• for holding Bianca (“We could wheel her around the house,” we said. Bianca grimaced and tried to escape down the stairs, but Mary picked her up and put her on top of the thing. Bianca immediately jumped off and ran away).

Unsure what to do with the thing, we went into the living room and lay on the couches. Bianca played with the packing debris. She was quite contented.

Presently Stephen came into the house and looked at the thing. “You could use it for holding books or medical supplies,” he said. “Or for this.” He picked up Bianca and put her on top of the thing. The cat jumped off and ran away.

Holland 2, Chile 0; Spain 3, Australia 0; Brazil 4, Cameroon 1; Mexico 3, Croatia 1

Yesterday I failed to write about these games.

For me the most notable game was Mexico’s. Rafa Márquez scored a vital goal in a third consecutive World Cup.

Holland 3, Australia 2; Chile 2, Spain 0; Croatia 4, Cameroon 0

Yesterday, three interesting games. … The Australians played valiantly against the Dutch, and briefly led, but eventually succumbed. … The Spanish were slow and imprecise; the Chileans, without difficulty, eliminated them. … Alex Song of Cameroon was red-carded for a vicious elbow-foul. His teammates were then humiliated by Croatia; toward the end, they headbutted one another.

We hosted Community Dinner for the church. The humans all enjoyed themselves, but Bianca was frightened by the children; she hid all night with Mary & Martin, in their bedroom. Even now, she twitches at the slightest noise. All of us are heart-wrenched.

Mexico 1, Cameroon 0; Holland 5, Spain 1; Chile 3, Australia 1

Lots of rain; lots of goals. Against Cameroon, Mexico scored three. The first two were wrongly disallowed. … The big news is how heavy Spain’s defeat was against the Netherlands. Afterward, I listened to the analyses of Roberto Martínez (a Spaniard) and Ruud van Nistelrooy (a Dutchman): van Nistelrooy praised the distinctive “Dutch” style of play; Martínez’s veins looked set to burst. It’s the Spanish, of course, whose play resembles the classic “Dutch” style. The Dutch now simply kick long passes to Robben and to van Persie. This time, with those strikers so “in form” — and with Spain’s defense so flustered and its attack so uninspired — the Netherlands’ bet paid off. But I’m not sure what broader lesson can be gained from this. … In the third game, the Chileans were wasteful in front of the Australians’ goal: they shot too little and passed too much. Thus the score was closer than it needed to be, and at the end the Chileans looked exhausted.

Injuries

World Cup warm-ups. … We played one a few weeks ago, against the Netherlands in Amsterdam (1 to 1); and this afternoon, in Arlington, TX, Mexico defeated us, 3 to 1. … It was among the most unsettling games I’ve watched. Segundo Castillo and Mexico’s Luis Montes badly collided; Montes’s leg was broken, and Castillo may have hurt his ACL. … Later, Mexico’s Rafael Márquez also was taken to the hospital. …

A few tactical notes. … We didn’t use our regular forwards, and we didn’t try to pressure our opponents on their side of the field, as we usually do. A very odd experiment. … All that carnage, to no clear purpose.