Did I Call It Or What?

World Cup Final today.  90-plus minutes of regular time, no score for either team.  Next up: 30-plus minutes of extra time, in which Germany finally scored one beautiful goal somewhere around minute 113 and then held on to win the whole shebang 1-0.  What was it that I wrote yesterday??  Oh, yeah:

"In general, I have a hard time watching soccer matches in which my children aren't playing.  They go on for all eternity and end with scores like 1-0; the one goal invariably scored when I turn my head away for a second!"

I did actually see the winning goal, as it happens, but only because I knew ahead of time which part of the game to watch: we were viewing it on time delay because Thing One had a tournament this weekend.  (I happened to see the final score on CNN, but my menfolk did not.)  I can assure you that my attention would have wavered long before minute 113 otherwise, especially since I was also attempting to cook dinner at the time.

My menfolk, Germany fans all, were beyond ecstatic about the win.  There was some yelling and dancing involved.  Honestly, I could have cared less who won.  Back in the day, I participated in several college football pools, in which I ostensibly made my picks based on whose uniforms I liked better, much to the disgust of the hardcore guys making up the rest of the pool.  I won more often than not, primarily because my picks were actually based on the Vegas lines (!!), but it was fun to watch the aftermath.  In that spirit, I informed the gentlemen that I would be cheering for Germany as well but purely because their players were better looking.  Also in that spirit, I got a hell of a kick out of NOLA's daily post, in which she informed her readers that she was cheering for Argentina because she likes Pope Francis more than Pope Benedict!

To each his or her own, my friends.  Happy Sunday.