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Un partido cruel

Nothing spells summer like the letters "s," "u," "m," "m," "e" and "r." That's a fact. You can write it down if you want.

But if you live in a country other than the United States, this summer can also be encapsulated by the curious compound word "football."

Derived from the Greek for "incredibly dull," the word has been anglicized to refer to a game in which 22 men incidentally crash into one another and then act like fish out of water, flopping around in feigned agony until an older man threatens them with an almighty square of yellow or red construction paper. The participants also occasionally try to kick a ball into a net.

Soccer, as we call it in the U.S., was invented by a brilliant Harvard symbologist with a flair for the dramatic ... Ok, I stole that off the book jacket of "The Da Vinci Code." Go ahead, Dan Brown. Sue me. I've got a countersuit for defamation of the English language with your name on it.

Anyway, this surprisingly spry symbologist was born without arms, and he wanted everyone else to share in his misery. Thus, soccer was born: The sport that actively restricts a person from engaging the instinct to use his or her hands. The only activity that discourages manual labor more than soccer is stare eyes, and even that game has a much more hardcore variant known as "stair eyes," which tests not only one's mental concentration but also his or her ability to push an opponent down a flight of stairs. It's currently all the rage on Japanese cable television, where a kid can be a kid, and so can a 50-year-old businessman!

Feel like this article just veered hopelessly off track? Have no idea where this thing is headed? Wondering just how Japan got tossed into the mix? Now you know exactly how I felt watching the recent World Cup match between Japan and Croatia, which ended in a scoreless draw, by the way.

In reality, the spectacle of the World Cup transcends all petty criticisms. To be honest, I'm just upset that the group play elimination round ruined my entire bracket. I had Trinidad versus Tobago in the final match, and already BOTH nations have been eliminated.

Then there's the U.S. team, that selective group of footballers which was apparently handpicked by expert recruiters Simon Cowell, Paula Abdul and Randy Jackson. The most humiliating part of our three straight losses came at the very end, when Ghana mocked us with their victory chant: "Gha-na-na-na, Gha-na-na-na, hey hey hey, goodbye!" Alas, when all was said and done, the Americans were forced to head back to their suites at the Nuremberg Four Seasons with their heads hung in shame, while the Ghanaians got to throw a huge celebration party in the team's 1981 Winnebago.

I think I've figured out precisely why there is so little scoring in soccer. I believe the players are limiting their shots so that the sportscasters on Univision and Telemundo can catch their breath in between screaming "Gooooooooooooool!" and "Si! Si! Si --Noooooooooooooo!" When one Latino futbol announcer attempted to cross over into basketball back in 1997, the results were disastrous: First he blew his lungs out trying to keep up with all the scoring in the NBA, then Marv Albert bit him on the shoulder ... Hello? Remember? Marv Albert? Anyone?

Listen, soccer fans, I'm here to help, not bash. So let me offer a few constructive ideas for ways to improve the game and the World Cup:

1) Whichever team has the cooler jerseys gets a free penalty kick every 10 minutes, no questions asked.

2) Instead of punishing a player for being offside, the referee should award him a special "green card" to let him know that his hustle is appreciated and his enthusiasm highly valued. Two green cards in one game equals a lollipop. Even better, Bush would accept this green card as entitling the recipient to temporary residence in the U.S. (as long as he promises to vote for the GOP).

3) At some unannounced point in the second half, one of the goalies will be attacked by a man-eating tiger that emerges from a pit a la "Gladiator."

4) Bring back "The Cup of Life" by Ricky Martin. Yes, Ricky, I really want it.

Dan can be reached at dooley@cavalierdaily.com.

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