Spicaresque

The soccer heads I polled don't believe the U.S. has the cojones to roll up to World Cup Games with U Haul Moving Trucks full of I.C.E. agents and racially profile and (il)legally detain people CBP Agents thought were in the country illegally. In other words, these heads feel that Trump, Incorporated can be shamed and are not going to risk a public relations black eye by sending I.C.E. agents to support local police during games of the 2026 World Cup. It is slightly ridiculous to boycott the 2026 FIFA World Cup. I speak solely here as an individual, but there is not much one person can do against a behemoth like FIFA. The reality is that I like to watch the games, the fanfare excites me, makes my heart flutter; I get to connect with Angelenos of all creeds over the supremacy of futbol. Let me be clear, what makes me worry are the lengths at which Infantino goes to placate Trump, and what that might mean for Latinos. Most of it is hearsay and intended to feed the rumor mills, but there is talk that Infantino is going to placate Trump by honoring him with a peace award. The summer before I turned eleven, the Argentine National Soccer Team won their second World Cup Title. My father wore a neat, auburn beard that my mother abhored. So, obviously, eventually she would bet him that Argentina would NOT win the World Cup. And, the only way to answer that wager was by offering his quasi-Assyrian beard as collateral to proclaim, clairvoyantly, what it was his duty to proclaim: Argentina (with Maradona) were going to win the World Cup! My father had been wearing that beard ever since he lost his hair at the tender age of 25, and it provided a nice follicle ballast between his face and his pelada (bald spot). My father is a handsome man that was hit with the Arab stick; his eyes sparkle like frankincense, and his smile is an irridescent scimitar. He's sturdy--barrel panza--but don't let that veneer fool you. Mi viejo is a stone-cold striker, a touch mago, he can take your head off at 20 meters, or lazer beam it to the inside of the box. The reason I remember the 1986 World Cup is because Maradona cheated to best England with that first goal, and then shut all the haters up by scoring one of the most gangster, batshit goals ever with the second. If I am not mistaken, Cantor, the Spanish-language futbol commentator, called that goal by Maradona or Maradona himself, a cosmic kite, or something bananas like that.