THERE'S ONLY ONE SANCHO

And in other news, the doctors tell me that I, scientifically speaking, only have one liver, which probably explains why I sit here with a massive headache and an all-around feeling of ill health after a hard—oh so hard—first 24 hours.

But the good news is: we have a World Cup on our hands here, people! Yer Correspondent trecked to Kells for Game One, had the pleasure of meeting the wonderful Portland soccabloggahs from A Pretty Move, and the added pleasure of vocally cheering on Costa Rica right behind a table full of German fans. (They looked amused.) The Ticos played a stand-up match—and I do believe they exposed the usually-joylessly-perfect Germans for the benefit of whoever plays them in the knock-out rounds—but clearly the morning belonged to Sexy Jurgen's men. (For the record, I would "switch" for Klinsmann.) The intercontinental ballistic missile unleashed by unindicted war criminal Frings is Goal of the Cup So Far, and will be hard to dislodge from that spot.

Skipped Ecuador and Poland. Life is short. Ditto England's typically uninspired first game—nothing interesting happens to England until penalty kicks are possible.

But this morning! Trinidad! In spite of the fact (or maybe because) they've been relentlessly patronized by faux-worldly football know-it-alls the Soca Warriors played like Men. Ex-Portland Timber Brent Sancho received deserved commendation from the ABC talking heads for his stalwart effort in the Siege of Shaka Hislop. T&T played hard, fouled hard, stood their ground and did all that blue-collar stuff a team like that needs to do to get a result on this stage, but also managed to play some football, getting forward a bit and rattling the crossbar with a near-goal that would have blown those little islands off the map. They have to like their chances against Paraguay, and shouldn't fear England based on today's performance. Could Trinidad go through? Today, if nothing else, they proved that at the World Cup, anything can happen.

I biked through the madness of Rose Festival—which should be outlawed—to meet me mates Liverpool Mike, Sam S. and Taylor for the Argies and Ivories. An encouraging game from both sides, with Ivory Coast pretty unlucky not to get a point. But, see—says the faux-worldly football know-it-all—this is what happens when African teams run into more defensively disciplined sides. What is more awesome than seeing Diego Maradona flip out in full-tilt fanboy mode in the stands? Not much.

I must rest my bloodstream for the evening, but Timbers Army, my thoughts are with thee. Maybe the example of Sancho, their ex-comrade, will inspire the Timbers to rip the 'Couv to shreds and blow the Cascadia Cup wide open. 'Til tomorrow morning, when I plan to hit the Spanish-language showing of Mexico v. Theocracy at the St. Johns Community Center, I remain—

BUGGERED.