Patterns Fail
The craziest thing I saw in the past week – *exasperated, bleeding out of my ears, walking away from the podium* – we’re just going to get this on record.
The craziest thing I saw this week, funnily and tragically enough, involved Cristiano Ronaldo by proxy. Welcome back to the White House, one of the most obviously tan people in recorded history! They know and love you here.
As stupid as the ending to Knicks-Mavs was, among other games, it was the Republic of Ireland’s resilience over the past week that led to both of a) Cristiano Ronaldo’s getting sent off in an improbable 2-0 Irish victory over Portugal on November 13th, and b) a win over Hungary in the 96th minute three days later.
All of this was to get Ireland to a play-off – “PLAYOFFS??,” obviously, you scream, in your best Irish Jim Mora – but the Republic hasn’t been to the World Cup since 2002. Given every Euro appearance they manage, their fans will be a welcome presence if and when the bhoys get through.
Stuffing CR7 in a box is always welcome (getting a red card against the Irish?? Subversion!), except that his company is distracting for a number of reasons, particularly to women; anyway, again, welcome to the White House, “Chris”! Getting one over on Hungary to keep themselves alive is all the more survivalist. The Irish simply can’t help themselves.
After going down 2-1 in the first half (Ireland scored via a Troy Parrott penalty), and with the breaks against them in the second even after evening up at 2-2 in the 80th minute (Troy Parrott, off of one of the more charmed rebounds into a pass that these eyes have ever seen), the Irish needed a win to advance. Again: all of this for a World Cup playoff.
And then, Parrott struck again in the 90+5-ish minute. Troy Parrott, formerly of Tottenham and currently plying with AZ Alkmaar in the Netherlands, kept finding himself in the right place at the right time against Hungary. No better was he than in putting the most featherly whisper on a header from an outfield goal kick, the desperate kind you typically see in Cup finals or domestic league Sundays if they’re still going for it.
That touch sparked a minutes-long celebration which, in turn, caused some confusion for the announcers when trying to monitor refs for the final whistle. After one more charge, Hungary couldn’t muster anything else, and the Republic was able to send them mainland and back down the Danube, looking for something else to get them through this.
Afterward, Parrott bore his heart: “It’s the first time I’ve cried in years…I really, really can’t believe it.” Nor could I, Troy. Best of luck to you and the boyos.
Tuesdays With Horry 