I promise this will be worth twenty minutes of your time. By far the coolest time lapse/set of time lapses I have ever seen. Makes me want to go to Paris desperately and to get my new camera in action.
Big ups to the Seventh Movement who shot and produced this piece of art. Nice work Thom.
How do you define your team’s World Cup and your support for them? In my case, it was 45 minutes in Cape Town.
Let me paint you a picture. One you likely remember clearly, with simple thoughts. Most of them include swear words. Mine certainly did. After a promising draw against England where Altidore scuffed the post and sent my heart on a path it likely will never recover from, team USA looked to have steam behind them as they faced Slovenia. We were in Cape Town for the England-Algeria game, one that I will never forget thanks to the fact it was so boring a bird roosted on the goal for the entire second half undisturbed. Strike and I got decked out and we headed to the fan zone in Cape Town to find lots of our brethren ready to cheer on our boys. A pleasant surprise to say the least. A day full of anticipation and 
wonder was off to a marvelous start as we approached kick off with nice weather and lots of USSSSSSAAAAAAAA chants. Quickly that day turned into a nightmare. If the Brazil – USA Confederations Cup first half felt like I was walking in a dream, this was the utter and total opposite. I was stranded in a nightmare that I could not believe was real.
By halftime, I was near tears. Completely frustrated and helpless. It’s not often that you see everything you have dreamed of slipping away right in front of your eyes. I remember just getting down on my knees and praying. Desperately. That my team, the guys who had come inches from locking up the driver seat only days before were suddenly inches from boarding a flight home after a meaningless game against Algeria. Everything I believed in was being pushed to the brink. Could I deal with heartbreak in two consecutive summers? Where would I find Flamin Hot Cheetos and Entourage seasons one through three to console me like I had for two straight days after the US-Mexico game at Azteca? How would I get past this one? These thoughts were blazing through my head like heat searing my soul. I was clinging to a thread of hope, a desperate string that a team that looked utterly worthless in the first half could deliver a miracle on the world’s biggest stage. I had turned down Chamo’s offer to buy me a very large beer because I knew if the score stood I would quickly become irrational and alcohol would not help that cause in the least. And then 45 minutes began.
When you were a kid, did your parents ever have company? Mine did, and my mom was always so insistent on the house being spotless for them. I never understood it. Why is the goal when you bring other people around to make your house looks like no one lives there? So generally I would clean for about five minutes, wait until she walked out of the room to deal with something else, then shovel my mess under my bed. Efficient, effective, and over. I still don’t understand it to this day. In South Africa this summer I got a flashback of my own experience doing that. It was if South Africa decided they didn’t want the world to see their mess, so they shoveled it under their bed. Yet one of the moments that is most vivid in my mind still brings me back to the spot where I saw a glimpse of South Africa’s mess.
Arsenal – Ah yes, it’s our year. Finally. Chelsea is talented and it will come down to the final day, but the absurd talent that is The Arsenal finally gets it done behind a rested Cesc and a revitalized RVP plus the epicness that is Arshavin. I mean how can’t you like him? He scores amazing goals, looks like a six year old, and has the best website I’ve ever seen.
Chelsea – They have the fatal flaw. Champions League is theirs but age and depth hold them back in the league. They stumbled last year, they will again, but this time it will cost them. Drogba lights it up in all the games where they don’t need goals, but the offense sputters in January as they watch their early lead slip away for good.
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…..figured out a way to get Chamo a job.
We are taking a bit of a summer break, to rest up before everything gets going the next couple weeks. You should too.
Oh. My. Goodness.
Yeah, this hits. Hard. Freeeeeesssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhh.
Oh yes, that is Armin Van Buuren dropping Swedish House Mafia’s “One” to celebrate the Dutch performance in the World Cup, and that is Klass Jan Huntelaar dancing like an idiot out front. As expected, senior Robben is the life of the party. Get it Freaky Deaky Dutch, get it.
Also, seriously? Why can’t we have awesome parties like this for our team, we need to get on it. Sick US djs like BT, lots of hot girls and a party to welcome home our boys, this sounds like a dandy idea.
So my boy Cym out in NYC has been getting it DONE during the World Cup. First, he heckled Giuseppe Rossi at a charity soccer event during the group stage, which deserves a medal or a nobel prize or something of the like. Just stellar work Cym. Yet he went and one upped himself. Apparently a friend of his was in South Africa for a Sports Management program and she got an exclusive shot of something that I was hoping to see at the World Cup but hadn’t:
Oh yes, that is Landon Donovan’s Man of the Match award from the US-Algeria game. Is it jealous in here or is it me?
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