Suspension over, Angelo Alessio returned to the bench. After watching the Zebes and the Partenopei throwing elbows, pushing and shoving, smashing into each other, getting carded half the time and no-calls the other half (and just generally thrashing around… except for Quags, who appeared to be technically dead for the entire match — take your vitamins sweetie and get some rest!), I was pretty sure I was looking at a null-null draw. But then Alessio decided to make some substitutions.
At first, all I saw was Bendtner warming up. I shrieked “Noooooooooooooo” loud enough that Mr. D came running in from the yard. OMG, Is everything OK? he hollered. I was panicking too violently to answer him, but then Bendtner sat down and Cáceres and Pogba came on. Whew. That was close. Still, pretty weird substitutions I thought.
Shows what I know.
Ha! Look at Morgan De Sanctis‘s face! Yeah, so The Beard and the regista attached to it sent in a corner-kick in the 80th, and Cáceres headed it in and the prospect of a null-null draw (which would have sapped the squadra’s morale going into a vital Champions League match) popped like a soap bubble at Upton Park.
But wait! It gets better!
El Pelado nekkidz (RAWR) and Matri showing us his pretty smile and not looking like a sad panda for once.
Swingin’ that jersey around like he’s a-lassoin’ all the hottness from the whole stadium.
Um, Martín, baby? My friend Cheryl would like you to please shave. I’m inclined to agree. That chin has to go.
Once again, Sleepy is awake. Good work today, Pirlo. Phil Schoen said he’d vote for you for the Ballon d’Or.
[I wonder what Ray Hudson said... did it include the word "magisterial"? — Ed.]
Cáceres rounded the corner past the ad boards with the three stars (three! heh heh). Careful, Andrea. Keep making that happy face and it might freeze that way.
Uh oh. He’s pointing. That means he’s looking for his bro.
So who’s his bro?
‘Tis Mauricio Isla. Interesting. I didn’t know they were a couple. I know without asking that I’m technically not allowed to show this, but here’s Martín’s bare bum from last season’s Scudetto celebrations. Ay pápi!
[You get ONE today Laura. I'm feeling generous... — Ed.]
But wait! There’s more. I was still throbbing with joy when Paul Pogba unleashed a hammer on the volley and sent it right past ol’ Morgan, who, on any other day, is one of mah boyz.
So I’m lazy, so I react to the goal by not getting off my butt, and just sitting there punching the sky and yelling. Mr. DB, however, leapt from the sofa and jumped up and down while chanting Yes! Yes! Yes!
We have a continuing dialog about whether he loves Juventus as much as he is supposed to…. usually he says something lame like Juventus is my favorite Italian club, but my first team is Liverpool. Pffft say I. I like Liverpool well enough but how could anyone love them more than Juve? Sometimes I think his mother had him secretly lobotomized.
So after the jumping and so forth, I challenged him again on his preferences, noting that he had certainly never leapt from the sofa to jump up and down for Liverpool. Aaaaand some of you know the punchline already but he says When’s the last time Liverpool did anything worth jumping for? Fair enough, but I still think he secretly loves Juve at least as well.
At first, he seems really excited and maybe a bit surprised.
But he quickly gets all badass, because teenaged football players are allergic to looking happy and sweet, lest anyone forget how very very macho they are.
You may be wondering if he has dyed the cuts in his hair gold. Yes. Yes he has. *sigh*
Group hug! Yayz!
Last but not least, I bring you Dirtbunny’s Favorite Dingbat: Leonardo Bonucci.
That boy is going to get shot someday. But not today. Today he’s earned a Special Treat from Dirtbunny. *purrrrr*
★ ★ ★
Next up, Nord-something in the Champions League on Tuesday. I don’t mean any disrespect but they have too many vowels in their name and I get confused and I would look it up but Leo is demanding his reward RIGHT NOW so I’ve got to go.