World Cup Final Live Blog (Jajajajaja)
As I was eyeballing tomatoes in the grocery store last week, an intriguing septuagenarian man approached me. James, who revealed himself to be the Basketball Hall of Fame’s international treasurer (he specified his internationality), sported a 2007 Final Four hat, which devotees may recall was the specific NCAA basketball tournament covered at length in the LBS.
“Nice hat,” I told him. “I remember that tournament well.”
Unaware of which hat he’d chosen for his beefsteak browsing, James removed the tan cap and scrutinized the participating school’s logos on both sides, naming the quartet before asking if I’d ever attended the Final Four.
“No. Saw four first round games in Providence, two second round games in Hartford. Been told to skip the Final Four unless you have 100 level tickets.”
“It is better on TV. Still the greatest sporting event in the world though, huh?”
“Second only to The Masters,” I replied, not mentioning that it’s my line about pretty much everything in the world.
In between pondering why one woman was wearing flip-flops as snow fell outside (“Bold choice,” I told her through a smile), I internally debated my top five favorite major sporting events while pretending to browse ice cream half gallons (I knew strawberry cheesecake was a cinch as soon as I saw the sale price). Sure, the first three were easy (March Madness and the U.S. Open tennis tournament are numbers two and three) and the fourth—NHL’s Stanley Cup Playoffs—didn’t lead to much debate with The Listmaker (what approximately one-third of my cerebrum should be nicknamed), but I struggled with my fifth choice.
As the title indicates, I decided it must be the World Cup in part because soccer is a sport I only care about for one month every two years (the other tournament being the European Championship), but for that month I follow it passionately. I asked my mother at what age I’d played soccer—she claimed I was five but I’m certain I was seven or eight—only to realize my career in shin guards preceded the first World Cup that made me obsessed: the 1994 tournament in America. My fair share of orange slices were consumed throughout a one-year stint in soccerdom—I complained about being bored on defense and got assigned to play goalie for one quarter (fuck you, halves), stopping a single shot and watching another mercifully miss wide left—but watching the sport had zero appeal then, especially in an era when major international club games couldn’t be found on cable. Then America hosted the Cup.
Growing real grass inside the Pontiac Silverdome fascinated me as much as Colombians killing one of their national team players upon his return home after accidentally scoring on his own goalie intrigued my childhood dark side. The only chance that death might happen at a major American event would be following the conclusion of a pony slave race like the Preakness, where there were high odds of a horse being euthanized for shattering its legs. Three games from the ’94 Cup stand out. I insisted on finding the Third Place Game on the radio while returning from a vacation in Lake George, listening as Sweden routed Bulgaria for the bronze. Soccer on the radio is absurd but having watched nearly every game of the tournament (and all games of the knockout round), I craved hearing Hristo Stoichkov score his tournament high seventh goal, a feat the Bulgarian attacker disappointingly failed to achieve during a 4-0 loss.
The final between Brazil and Italy one day later was huge—it marked the first World Cup decider I’d seen, a horribly dull match doubling as the crystallization of my awareness that I’d never root for the Italians as long as I lived—but it was when Brazil played the U.S. on July 4th that I was most intrigued. The same teams tend to win at the World Cup (there have been a mere eight countries crowned victorious in twenty-one tournaments) yet perhaps more than any other sport, soccer is prone to incomprehensible upsets due to the low scoring nature of the game. My countrymen were huge underdogs that day, but I chose to spend the afternoon of my eleventh birthday rooting for the Red, White, and Blue even if every pundit guaranteed they would lose. Of course, they were defeated 1-0, but their “courageousness and fortitude” (fake quotes likely said by Bob Ley or whomever covered the game on TV) were showcased amid the world’s biggest international single sport event on America’s birthday. *segue alert*
Today is both Qatar’s National Day and the World Cup Final, the latter reason why I’ve chosen to live blog the game (and partially because I’m too exhausted from celebrating neighbor Bahrain’s National Day on Friday). A quick note about the Qatari holiday: it was once recognized on September 3rd, but in 2007 the Crown Prince moved it to December 18th, which would’ve been the equivalent of President Dubya Bush decreeing that America’s Independence Day be relocated to roughly a couple weeks preceding Halloween. Qatar was awarded World Cup hosting duties in 2010—back when it was expected that the tournament would be staged, like it always is, in June and July—so there was no initial plan to conclude the nation’s biggest international showcase on such a celebratory day (aka Keith Richards’s 79th birthday).
Final notes since you tuned out paragraphs ago: Despite that rah rah nonsense about my countrymen earlier, I’ve been a fan of Les Bleus, the French team, since they won the Cup in 1998 (and gifted these eyes the most entertaining soccerist [sic] of my lifetime: Zinedine Zidane). I once owned a Zizou jersey and Sue continues to work out wearing the accompanying white kit shorts I gifted her that feature a rooster stitched above the left knee. However, Lionel Messi is probably the world’s greatest player since his countryman Diego Maradona retired, and part of me would be thrilled to see the most famous feet in the Southern Hemisphere hoist the one trophy that has thus far eluded him, especially considering he’s already confirmed this will be his final game in an Argentina jersey. [Editor’s Note: Mendacious Messi has since changed his mind!] What mysteries lurk? Will we see a whopping three goals between the two teams? Will a midfielder fake an injury to such a comical degree that medics rush out with a coffin only to see the limping millionaire prove he’s magically healed after convincing the referee his chest cavity required defibrillator paddles? Will FIFA’s overlords bribe the teetotaling hosts to permit the winning team to enjoy champagne within the (literal) golden bowl of Lusail Iconic Stadium? Let’s head to the pitch, or fútbol’s baseball-esque term for its field (ain’t that some shiiiit, man), to find out.
9:52 – Here in my bathrobe and slippers with a mug of iced coffee and a browning banana. Nothing says Christmas like the world’s biggest soccer game being played in a paper town located in a country smaller than my home state.
9:54 – To avoid a conflict with NFL coverage, FOX is airing this game at 6 p.m. local time despite broadcasting numerous other games at 10 p.m. As much as I want to complain, the only other major sporting event finales that begin this early are European golf and tennis tournaments, meaning I’m content with the change of pace (and happier that I quit drinking because a couple gin lime rickeys this early would result in a brunch blackout rivaling my antics during the 2006 Third Place Game).
9:56 – Who in their right mind doesn’t find “La Marseillaise” stirring? Choke down a bite of discolored potassium wishing I’d purchased a croissant or DoorDashed some freedom fries to celebrate my imaginary homeland. If La Albiceleste (Argentina's nickname) lose, Messi will be the Dan Marino of soccer.
10:00 – Here we go! Poland’s Szymon Marciniak is our referee, a country the French already beat. The fix is in! Les Bleus are in all bleus, Argentina wear their powder blue(s) and white. The primary color wheel has been sadly neglected.
10:04 – The sandwich joint where my buddy Connor and I planned to meet after the game is closed on Sundays. Who has time to bake bread during such an historic match? Meanwhile, the French look shaky, and the crowd is yelling incomprehensibilities. Did you know that a soccer ball is pleather? Is this sport vegan?
10:08 – First corner kick! In a sport where eight total shots on goal between two sides over 1.5 hours qualifies as a celebratory occasion, a few cars were probably just set ablaze in Buenos Aires. Unrelated: Messi should get a gig endorsing sloppy joes. Weird collision of bodies in the box (giggity) and the medics are rushing out to treat Hugo Lloris, the goalkeeper who’s still splayed out on the Arabian grass.
10:11 – He’s back on his feet! Antoine Griezmann’s poorly dyed blonde mop makes me wish he played bass in a post-punk band. Tina looks like the more dominant team thus far, guaranteeing France will win. Soccer never makes any fucking sense.
10:15 – Refreshing lack of neck tattoos (still some, to be clear) adorning the 22 men on the pitch. Terrible turnover by France leads to a brutally blown chance by the South Americans who sky a rocket shot over the crossbar. Hope the guy in the nosebleeds enjoys that souvenir death experience.
10:18 – Text my buddy Andy (née Andres), an Ecuadorian co-worker, who I’ve messaged daily throughout the tournament. He’s rooting for Tina, natch, but one of the most thrilling moments during this tournament was seeing his countrymen defeat Qatar four Sundays ago in the opening match (after he excitedly told me that Ecuador would “rape them,” a disarming disclosure from one of the friendliest men I've met). If you have one handy, enjoy a Coca-Cola for Andy.
10:21 – Oh boy! A trip in the box leads to a penalty kick for Argentina. Dicey call upon seeing the replay, but Sloppy Joe himself is going to take this one. Our commentariat wax poetic with stats, the whistle blows, and…he buries it in the corner then slides onto the ground so his teammates can jump on him and inflict pain. And here we thought S&M was a French specialty.
10:23 – This is Messi’s sixth goal of the tourney, which makes him the leading scorer. Should guarantee a sense of urgency from Les Bleus going forward and provide more entertainment than if it were a stalemate for an hour-plus.
10:25 – This game is The Fin_____al per the Arabic text at midfield. Spent four weeks watching yet never did a Google deep dive on Middle Eastern phrasing. Earned a scarlet letter (Q, duh) for my throbe.
10:27 – Sloppy Joe writhes in pain holding his face on the ground, the medics rush out, and he’s on his feet moments later. Jenny Taft reports that Argentinians spent their life savings to attend this game, but neglects to report a monetary figure. If I spent every penny on a trip to Qatar, I’d arrive and decapitate myself with a curvy sword.
10:30 – Tina has a player featuring the surname Mac Allister, a reminder to check out the Home Alone 2deleted scene featuring Kevin playing soccer with Maradona in Central Park and smashing free kicks at Harry and Marv while his parents ironically call collect from Paris.
10:32 – Feels like the French are barely able to sustain any offense so I’m calling this game over now. My pal Brock, forever prone to deeming an event over in advance of its conclusion, chimes in moments later when Argentina scores a second goal. Must’ve seen the Over signal in the sky!
10:35 – Excellent Tina passing leads to the aforementioned wide-open score. Now it’s time to determine my lunch destination: IHOP (too fitting?) or Jamaican grub.
10:38 – “That whole sequence of the goal there was amazing,” Brock says. “Too bad that almost never happens.” Soccer in a nutshell.
10:40 – I’ve long felt Sloppy Joe Messi looks a bit like Ben Stiller as Simple Jack in Tropic Thunder, which makes the fact that his drop-dead gorgeous wife was his childhood sweetheart more wholesome. She knew he was slow in their grade school days, long before he was a soccer sensation, and stuck with him. I demand Hallmark make this a Christmas movie I can watch by Thursday.
10:43 – One of my favorite memories from visiting Paris in autumn 2004 was drinking beer and watching a rugby match at a nondescript café. Only had a glass or two but cannot remember a thing other than how joyous it was to watch an oddball event with the locals. Remains the one rugby match I’ve ever watched in full.
10:48 – Seven minutes of added time will be played this half. Whenever there are injury stoppages, the Pole in charge pauses his stopwatch dictating how much time is left in the first half. He waits until the 44th minute to reveal this mysterious allotment. What, you thought the Polish didn’t know how to tell time? Now you’ll be defending a penalty kick to save your life at The Hague!
10:50 – What rock band is playing this halftime show to honor the Qatari folks? I bet Metallica would do it dressed in soccer jerseys, those shameless fucks. I can picture James Hetfield singing “Enter Sandman-uhhh” while riding a camel from the Persian Gulf shoreline into the stadium.
10:53 – Happy to report that yesterday’s viewing of The Fabelmans proved it’s a top three Spielberg movie (also: Jaws and E.T.). The scenes with Judd Hirsch and David Lynch were standouts for wildly different reasons, but the entire thing hit an abundance of sweet spots. Adore seeing a Major Artist do a deep dive into his life without a trace of odious self-indulgence. I’m a sucker for movies about making movies and it’s one of the best. Give Michelle Williams her fucking Oscar already, dammit. Note: She didn’t out-act some of these pitchmen during the first half though, am I right? *kisses on cheeks instead of a fist bump for second half French inspiration*
10:56 – Brock declares that a soccer ref has the worst refereeing job in all of sport due to the fear of being killed for making a “wrong” call, which is spot on. Soccer referee is the athletic equivalent of being a Uvalde police officer (since they act as if they can only fire their weapons with their feet).
11:00 – It’s High Almost Noon. Time for more coffee and a perusal of the IHOP menu.
11:06 – Grabbed a box of raisins for second half consumption. During his post-match interview, Simple Jack will say his raisin d'être has always been to hoist the World Cup. Did I choose my foodstuff to make a throwaway joke? Oh look, the game’s back!
11:09 – Lotta empty seats in camera view. Everyone had to grab another Dasani Light and halal beef hot dog from the presumably two vendors in the stadium.
11:11 – Will the French get a chance to make this a close game? Will they even take a shot on goal? How can the defending world champ be shotless at halftime? Why do I care about this sport five times per decade? Are rhetorical questions keeping me interested in the synthetic orb?
11:14 – The French have a corner kick! The Eiffel Tower just shot water out of its tip. Tina goalkeeper with the pseudo-save. This guy’s lethargy is emblematic of the “Nobody wants to work” ethos being preached by Boomers everywhere.
11:16 – Tina’s purposely playing as if trapped under a layer of molasses, hoping they can burn off the next 40 minutes by winning the Lollygagging Cup. Stalling: a soccer stalwart.
11:18 – One Tina fan bangs a drum in the stands, something Lars Ulrich failed to do at halftime after his inflatable camel's humps doubling as snares deflated. The French begin playing offense more aggressively before kicking the ball back to their goalie seconds later. Talk about Foucault’s Pendulum. But really? Save that for the French Open in May. What.
11:21 – Speaking of tennis: FOX’s Stu Holden, one of the two men commentating this match, sounds identical to tennis analyst Mary Carillo. Weird attempt at proving gender equality by Rupert Murdoch & co.
11:23 – Messi almost nets a second goal before we’re reminded that the Women’s World Cup kicks off in New Zealand in July. (Murdoch’s still at it!) Will I watch 30 seconds of the entire tournament to admire Alex Morgan’s headband? You know what? Don’t even care if you call me a misogynist.
11:27 – Cheek kisses for Angel di María as he’s subbed off the pitch. Will Argentinians French kiss the Cup? There are substantial cultural layers at stake during the next half hour, amigos.
11:29 – Brock informed me earlier that only one team ever overcame a halftime deficit to win a World Cup Final. That team? Uruguay in the inaugural 1930 Cup on home soil. Soccer: the most thrilling game on Earth!
11:32 – European nations have won the last four Cups (Italy, Spain, Germany, and France), the longest continental Cup streak in history, and it’s hard to imagine Les Bleus extending it. Then again, Argentina blew a lead against the Netherlands in the last 20 minutes of their game nine days ago. Need some late game drama before declining the IHOP French toast special due to my contempt for their piss poor effort.
11:36 – Tina player writhing on the ground while Simple Jack looks to the rafters, praising Jesus for once again helping him avoid going “full retard.” Joke’s on him when Robert Downey, Jr. delivers the sport’s ultimate prize in blackface.
11:39 – 88,966 people are in attendance tonight. I assume a couple hundred sacrificed their family’s liquified natural gas holdings for QR codes. Wait, you’re not hip to Qatari-friendly cornball jokes? Somebody needs to read more informative pieces than this here live blog.
11:41 – Just dropped a raisin on my slipper and am writ(h)ing on the carpet. Local EMTs arrived but I waved them off, slowly getting into my chair, wiping away tears, and smirking at the Freud, Jesus, and Jenna Jameson bobbleheads cheering me on from the nearby bookshelf.
11:42 – Kylian Mbappé is taking a penalty kick following a Tina foul! GOAL, or as Andy says after goals: Jajajajaja! Here we go! French president Macron is jacked up while a sultan in all white politely claps behind him. What geopolitical nightmares may arise from this turn of events? I may drop a baguette on my knee for more attention should Les Bleus score an equalizer.
11:44 – HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!! LES BLEUS HAVE SCORED AGAIN!!! This stadium is going insane, and I have no regrets about calling this over. Argentina have won the Cup! Shhh, self.
11:46 – There was a screaming match between coaches during that sequence per John Strong, the play-by-play man. Did they scream in English (or Arabic per FIFA dictate)? I’m jacked up on adrenaline at this utterly (brown) bananas turn of events. Wow.
11:49 – Tina defenders look defeated, a tough blow for a team that won the Cup in the first half. A yellow card is called for a dive, which the Video Assisted Referee proves was called correctly by the Polish whistleblower. Merci, monsieur.
11:51 – Three men are now down on the pitch. Qatari officials are requesting medical professionals from the United Arab Emirates arrive for extra time. Mbappé has joined an elite list of men who have scored in two different World Cup Finals. Here’s hoping IHOP has escargot on tap at the rate this thing’s going. I can’t help but form independent thoughts with every sentence due to my ecstatic mind state.
11:53 – There are eight minutes of injury time before the second half ends. Will a miraculous last-second goal be scored? Based on how this has gone, I can confidently say…no chance.
11:55 – “Argentina just looking like they’re trying to survive right now,” sayeth Strong. The Tina goalie gets his first save three minutes shy of two hours into this game. Soccer: Fuck you, I love you! France attacks again and has my heart on my tongue. Within the hour, I may be saying I’m from Nice (except around my sister’s daughter). Roll your eyes, connard. My country is making me proud!
12:00 – Simple Jack shoots a lazer that gets saved! We’ve got a minute or so left before extra time. Can’t believe the goalkeeper’s elbow didn’t fall off knocking that one out of bounds.
12:02 – This game is going to extra time, but not before one final Tina attack in the open field. Tomber dans les pommes, which means “to fall in the apples,” but really means to faint, something I’m about to do. Good thing I asked the EMTs to park in my neighbor's front yard during the conclusion.
12:03 – Andy messages emojis depicting his current shock. There are no words, or as he might say: Nanananana (not banana-related content).
12:06 – Extra time begins as a cute Tina fan with powder blue nail polish appears to be praying for a momentum switch. The game has slowed down a bit to start, but with a guaranteed additional 30 minutes on the board, one goal should win it. (As if predictions mean anything anymore, Adam.)
12:09 – Les Bleus still appear more energized. Too bad the Tinians rolled on the ground for so long; maybe that additional time could’ve led to the third goal they didn’t know they needed. Argentina 2: France 2: Karma 1.
12:11 – Strong mentions once more how the French squad has been suffering from an unknown virus the last week or so. Could this be a rare instance of FOX pro-vaccine propaganda? Nope. It’s actually a plug for Virusstarring Mary McCormack and Benicio del Toro, Tuesdays on FOX at 9/8 central. That’s not true either. C'est la blog vie.
12:13 – Mbappé goes down but gets back up again. “Tubthumping” should be the international anthem for soccer diving.
12:14 – Time to mention how much I hate penalty kicks, which decided the ’94 and ’06 Cup, the latter a French loss to those damn Italians featuring the most infamous headbutt in the history of sports. I’d rather see Argentina win in extra time than France win on PKs. It’s the equivalent of a World Series game eschewing extra innings for a home run derby.
12:17 – Brutal foul by Tina as retribution for a missed call by the Pole. Messi inadvertently concedes a corner kick, but nothing materializes. Talk of Tina’s remaining two substitutions reigns on the broadcast; when will they bring in fresh bodies to attack the French goal (not a ménage à trois joke)?
12:18 – Brock messages, “I hate the soccer offsides rule more than any other in sports,” a sentiment I echo. It’s such a down-to-the-millimeter decider that doubles as the height of athletic pedantry. Let’s see a Mbappé hat trick, dammit!
12:21 – Argentina has a beautiful chance to take the lead, but a French tackle saves the game. Wow! Something has to give here, much like the second halves of extra time in 2010 and 2014 yielded Cup winners on unforgettable goals by Iniesta and Götze.
12:22 – Another Tina chance goes to waste. If you’re one prone to believing in fate, France is gonna find a way to win. Didier Deschamps, the French coach, is lighting an unfiltered Gauloise while doodling a spaceship, or 4-3-2-1-liftoff formation, on his white board.
12:25 – Macron has removed his blazer and unbuttoned his cuffs. Asados vs. Pot-au-Feu are the stakes: the losing country’s leader has to eat the winning country’s national dish. Or so I just decreed.
12:27 – The commentators predict a Tina victory should this end on PKs based on having a better goalie. Simple Jack has a shot on goal blocked. Alpa Cino frowns in the stands.
12:28 – SIMPLE JACK SCORES! Or did the ball cross the line? Or was there an offside? Our robot ref will have the final say…IT’S A GOAL! Brock disagrees: “I think his foreskin was offside.”
12:31 – Tina will now try to waste as much time as possible while the French scramble to tie this game. My butthole’s stamina is sure to be tested.
12:33 – Bench players are purposely kicking the ball into the crowd to incite additional delays, which should yield a yellow card. Primary color alert: Yellow card on Tina for a brutal tackle instead.
12:36 – French corner kick is delayed by a Tina substitution. Mbappé kicks the ball toward the goal only for Argentina to concede a penalty kick on a handball! Holy fuck, the French fans are bewildered by this sequence.
12:37 – MBAPPÉ SCORES!!! Second ever hat trick in a World Cup Final! This is gonna be called one of the greatest World Cup games ever when all’s said and done. Can Tina win? Macron, with one finger raised, says, “Non!”
12:39 – These teams played at the last Cup; the match ended with a 4-3 French victory. Will it happen again? France damn near puts a header in to win the game but it’s just wide. EMTs are now cleaning the urine from my slippers. Sure, it’s not in their job description, but soccer’s a different animal, mon amis.
12:42 – Offsides whistle after Tina blows a chance to win the Cup. Andy sayeth, “Amigo, fuck me. This is crazy.”
12:43 – TINA KEEPER SAVES A POTENTIAL GAME WINNER! BE STILL MY FART!
12:44 – Mbappé screams “Merde,” a French fuck, after squandering the final sequence. Off to the bathroom…then penalty kicks. Grrr.
12:47 – FOX studio analysts agree that cigarettes are in order for all those watching.
12:49 – PKs begin with Mbappé back in the box. The goalie gets his hand on the ball but it’s in. Les Bleus 1-0.
12:50 – Simple Jack takes his turn. “You m-m-m-m-make me happy,” he says to the ball. 1-1.
12:51 – Save by Tina! Ah geez, visions of Trezeguet missing against Italy in ’06. Tina makes their second one and are up 2-1.
12:52 – Tina keeper throws the ball away like a fuckface. Should be more discussion regarding soccer psychology. France misses their third. Hard to believe they’ll win now.
12:53 – Tina’s up 3-1 and this is all but over. France will have now technically won or been even through regular time in all four finals they’ve played but lost the two that ended on PKs. If only Jean-Luc Godard were still around to make a short documentary about this cruelly postmodern irony.
12:54 – French goal, down 2-3. Tina’s next kick can win the Cup. A man with three stars tattooed on his neck will be a folk hero for the strength of his right foot. Did David think to opt for such simplicity against Goliath?
12:55 – Tina wins the game 3-3 (4-2), which is the proper scoring in this silly sport. Talk about a foot fetish.
Time for an adrenaline-fueled exercise bike ride prior to the on-the-nose IHOP trip. The 2026 World Cup, which will rightfully be held in the summertime, is occurring in America (co-hosted by Canada and Mexico). Here’s hoping my next lower torso-related correspondence (non-genitals category) is generated by a 32-year dream coming true: attending a World Cup game in person. I’ll carp endlessly while watching men from (perhaps) Serbia and Senegal battle to a 1-1 draw yet love it all the same. Such is the nature of the Copa Mundial. The irony of ironies is that I took five years of Spanish in middle and high school, so as nobody has ever said about Argentina: Sacré azul.