ten red shirts, fine-tuned, attuned, coming at nine blue ones in disarray, hanging on.
Fire running towards water.
Thiago Motta, his hamstring, and Italy snap.
2-0 turns to 4-0 turns to history.
Briny shirts, teary eyes.
Bandwagon jumpers
sworn Spanish fans since circa 2008.
Pathetic. Painful. Despair:
look into it and glimpse its anatomy.
We reach the Final every six years:
1994, 2000, 2006, 2012.
We look towards 2018
Too far away.
Pirlo and I will almost be forty!
Warm middle-age interrupted
Churn of Spanish
production line of
cyborg talent in the distance.
Pass--pass--tiki--taka--churn--churn:
XaviIniestaFabregas--recursive.
More bandwagon jumpers,
The mediocre upon mediocre
supporting
the magnificent.
Pass--pass--tiki--taka--churn--churn
Don't utter.
But say the beautiful:
Balo, black, bicycle
GOAL
Pirlo, penalty, panenka
GOAL
Again!
Balo, black, blistering
GOAL
GOAL
Anatomy of hope:
Straight, limber, and sturdier
flicks away the despair.
We wait for Gli Azzurri.
With hope.