THREE UP, THREE DOWN
It was around 1:45 Saturday afternoon, or the 93rd minute World Cup time, when a native of the tiny West African nation of Ghana named Asamoah Gyan willed the soccer ball onto his left foot from between two U.S. defenders, then willed it into the back of Tim Howard’s net with a determination even more fierce.
The sports book at the Fiesta in Henderson let out one of those collective groans, like when a guy misses a short putt on the 17th green at the Masters, or like 48 guys would do if their mothers-in-law showed up on the doorstep with a full complement of luggage and no particular place to go.
There was one cheer, which went over like a whoopie cushion in church. Some guy had bet Ghana on the money line, and in Las Vegas one’s money always trumps one’s national pride. That’s just the way it is.
Twenty-seven minutes later, plus three minutes on top of that, added on after one of the Ghanaians faked the 1,976th injury of this World Cup, it was over.
We had put on our soccer boots, as Bono had asked, and for a fortnight American soccer was a perfect fit with the American sports fan, a supple and stylish size 9½.
But by the time I returned from the restroom, the sports book at the Fiesta had removed its soccer boots.
Bob Bradley, the U.S. soccer coach, was talking, but you couldn’t hear him because the volume already had been switched to the Astros-Rangers game on another screen. Hunter Pence was choking up on the bat on one of the big screens. Danica Patrick was racing somebody for 31st place on another one. Guys and gals were playing golf on the smaller screens.
No matter how hard Landon Donovan and his pals had tried to delay the inevitable, it was back to sports as we know them.
THREE UP
■ EDWIN JACKSON: Locals who recall his two stints with the 51s probably weren’t surprised that Jackson walked eight guys and threw a whopping 149 pitches in no-hitting his old team, the Tampa Bay Rays, for the Arizona Diamondbacks. As a 20-year-old prospect in 2004, Jackson averaged 5.5 walks per nine innings for the 51s; the next year, an even 6. This might have been the wackiest no-hitter since Dock Ellis pitched one while under the influence of LSD.
■ JASON ZUCKER: A kid from Bonanza High School, a former Las Vegas Thunder stick boy, was selected in the second round of the NHL Draft by the Minnesota Wild. This is roughly the equivalent of Jupiter aligning with Mars, pigs flying and Landon Donovan scoring two goals against the Algerians in added time.
■ HERCULEZ GOMEZ: He didn’t score a goal and had to overcome the ignominy of being sent into the game against England after it was over — something, I think, that only can happen in soccer. And while the former Las Vegas High striker didn’t come out of nowhere to make the U.S. World Cup team, he did come out of the Mexican League and Puebla F.C., aka Los Camateros — “The Sweet Potato Makers.” This seems pretty close to nowhere.
THREE DOWN
■ FRANCE: Its national soccer team showed as much heart at the World Cup as the wooden players on a foosball table, and owes Ireland and Irish pub owners in Southern Nevada an apology. Were it not for the referee missing a blatant hand ball on the winning goal in the final qualifying match, Ireland might have assumed France’s spot. And when Les Bleus were Les Blowing it, local Irish pub owners would have been making money hand over fist on Guinness beer served at room temperature.
■ FRANCE AND ITALY: This e-mail from the Motherland sums up this World Cup a lot more succinctly than Chris Fowler, Alexi Lalas and that Ruud Gullit guy from the Netherlands could: “The World Cup is like World War II. The French surrender early, followed by the Italians. The United States joins in at the last minute and England is left to fight the Germans.”
■ SOCCER SPENDTHRIFTS: One of the World Cup talking heads said the nation of Ghana, the soccer side that sent our guys home, has a lower gross national product than every state in the U.S., except for Wyoming. This sounds like one more reason why the Rebels should never lose to Wyoming in American-style football.
Las Vegas Review-Journal columnist Ron Kantowski can be reached at rkantowski@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0352.
