It’s that time of year again. No, not the time when you consider a trip to a nude beach to get a tan in THAT spot. This is the time of the year when some normally rational people start saying things like “I think I’ll flip on the tele and see how the Ukraine midfielders are handling that Swedish attack on the pitch.”
Before you jump through your computer screen to punch me in the face, let me say this: I am not a real person, and your screen is made of glass, so that might hurt.
Yes, seemingly once every summer, the thoughts of young men without dates turn to the foreign sport of soccer. Or should I say the American sport of soccer, and the foreign sport of “O-LAY-olay-olay-olay…O-lay, o-lay,” sometimes also called futbol by people who don’t know how to spell.