Campioni! Campioni!

Semis:

I woke up for the second half of Germany Italy and wow, the Italians were somehow all infiltrated by alien beings-- 4 strikers up front?! 2 goals in the last minutes of extra time?! Forza!

World's Most Curious Football-Related Injury: I woke up again to watch France Portugal but in the dark managed to completely forget about the rather large tv in the middle of my bedroom (I just moved). I hit it full on anad fell over injuring my shin, knee, elbow, shoulder, and boob. I forget about that match. 1-0 France? I still have a nasty cut across my shin.

N and I then had the good sense to get out of town for a few days and longtailed it to Railei Beach where I last was with the lovely Suparna Mukherjee for what is now known as Bengali Girls Gone Wild.

This most recent trip was fantastic--West Railei is easily one of the most atmospheric places I have been. God, I sound so gushy, but we also had the most perfect beach house. You really just need to go-- I had this chick flick moment where I thought this is where I would like to come to die. Not sure if N would be down with that, as he would have to be the one carrying the oxygen tank singing "Wind Beneath My Wings." No, on second thought, certainly not.

Finale: Italy wins the World Cup. I do love the Azzurri and am happy for them, in spite of their silly, easy draw, in spite of their endearing habit of getting in their own way. We watched 100m from the Andaman Sea with a collection of partially nude British men on a stag trip.

And Then There Were Four...

It all seems so long ago. On Friday N and I ran down Soi Lang Suan to Cafe Trio chez the lovely Patti to watch Germany v Argentina where Jens Lehmann made a few more fans, notably a lovely Chinese American woman from Queens who had previously not been swayed by the Gloved Ones. Oh come to the goal mouth, Gracie, they are easily the hottest boys on the field. They use their hands, people.

I called my Dad for pre- and post-match commentary which, as usual, was spot on. Sometimes I don't think he even needs to watch, although there have been one too many pints between that convo and now, so take my word for it.

Italy crushed Ukraine in the match that nobody watched.

England v Portugal

Remember Euro 2004? I do.

The next day we gathered at the Bull's Head in a room that was reminiscent of someone's parents' rec room with the rented chairs and a big screen tv in the corner. We were with mostly English ex-colleagues of mine from ThaiDay and few American friends. Sharing (modestly) my father's gift for acute football analysis, I said to N that the match seemed evenly played and lo, the possession stat appeared 50-50 in the bottom left corner.

I won't do a synopses since everyone knows what happened. It's like they take the most reserved, wan people in the world who all live on this toothpaste tubed shaped island and every four years they get embroiled in so much DRAMA-- crotch stamping, penalty missing, red carding, ACL tearing, blubbering.

The next day I moved. Holy stress. It wasn't that bad of course. In fact it is wonderful--my apartment is just a tiny bit like Barbie's Dream House. Dinner with Grace that night who we shall miss terribly when she goes home.

But the best part about my new place--TV. Germany v Italy is on at 2 am. We just need to stumble out of the bedroom and onto the couch and slink back. I see potential snoozing on the couch at the half.

What's With The Fish? Well, that's Der Kaiser and you can bet against him on the Guardian website. He called Eng Por right, by the way.