Sometimes, I wish the U.S. loved soccer as much as everyone else. Lots of readers here at the 'wrangler have noticed my recent obsession with the worlds most popular sport. I think maybe what fianlly got me over the hump and well on my way to being a full blown soccer hooligan is the deep pile of refuse that our own game has sunk into.

Baseball is in big, BIG trouble.

Thank you for that penetrating insight, Captain Obvious. Everyone already knows this, not the least of which is baseball itself. Last night, I watched the game on its second largest stage, The All Star Game. Kevin and I lamented the fact that we knew we would spend the entire evening watching the game we love, all the while listening to the announcer's talk strike and steriods and labor and small market vs. large market. We talked at length, as we have in the past, about what's wrong with the game. I watched a player from my home team in the pregame announcements, a player who's salary represents everything that's wrong with the game, a player who can't remotely help get his team to the Series. I found myself rooting against him, and he's a Ranger. During the pregame, we saw memorable moments that reminded me why I love this game. During the game itself, I saw Torii Hunter make a catch that I should be remembered for years, and a celebration in the outfield with Barry Bonds, whose home run Hunter robbed, that looked like two little leaguers having the time of their lives on a field of grass so green it makes your heart ache. Only a few innings later, I saw Bonds answer in the way he does best, by making sure the next ball he hit never got anywhere near that grass, but well out of the park. I saw Lance Berkman, who plays for my other team, do what he has done better than anyone else all year, bring home the run. He helped put the NL back on top. I got to see Ichiro play, and laugh in the face of the Japanese baseball system that I used to think was the worst example of sports in the world. (They intentionally DON'T TRY TO WIN in Japenese ball, how stupid is that shit?) Now, our own game is in such terrible trouble, the Japanese may get the last laugh. Ten bucks says if the player's strike, Ichiro goes back overseas. Why shouldn't he? There, he's Michael Jordan, here he'll just be one more player who's refusing to play in a system that is so out of whack, no one seems to know what to do with it.

After all the pageantry, after all the great plays and fun and games and kids in the stands enjoying a sight not to be seen again, after tributes to the greats of the game, especially those heroes who have recently fallen, it all came down to This. The sound you're hearing at the end of this game isn't just booing, its the sound of America's heart breaking. Or of mine, anyway.

Well, Feeling better, thanks. To all those who asked, and showed support, many muchos gracias. But see, here's the thing. It's nice to know someone reads this stuff, and it's nice that everyone went running under the ledge with that big net like a bunch of keystone cops to save the day. I wasn't up there, though. I get Slightly Out of Focus from time to time, (often enough that it gets capitalized) but I am basically all right. Please feel free to be concerned about me, because it feels great to know people care. But don't worry about me jumping anytime soon.

I don't like heights.

The world has gone sort of gray and fuzzy. I'm Slightly Out of Focus. The daily routine becomes a monotone roar in my ears, the nightly escape an ever more out of control attempt to drown out one din with another. I'm not wandering lost, not yet. I'm still reasonably centered, but the things that were once important have faded away. The new things that are becoming important (or that I want to become important) are far away, in the distance, not even particularly shiny, just hazy black shapes that I only endeavor to move towards when there's nothing better to do. There's always something else to do, better or not. Life isn't joyless, but it's not really joyful, either. Small pleasures have become the only pleasures. Mild irritations become raging fires of anger that fade moments after they started. I snap at a lot of people. I forget things. I have no patience. I hurt people's feelings on accident.

I am Slightly Out of Focus. Don't tell anyone, I'm hoping it won't last.

"The Land of the Free, The Home of the Brave, is in the Round of Eight" - World Cup announcers.

We did it! I stayed up late after work and I watched it all! (check out the time stamp!) The United States has never advanced to the quarterfinals in the history of the World Cup. EVER! Just watch how many people go football crazy now. For the record, I went nuts before all of ya'll bandwagoners! By the end of this game Mexico started to get down right nasty. 10 yellow cards in the game, almost all of them in the second half. The Mexican captain, known to be a classy player, intentionally headbutted the U.S.' Kobe Jones in the throat in the 84th minute and got red carded. Granted, Mexico put up a firece attack and got rogered just a bit on what looked like a bad non-call by the officials on a handball inside the box that would have led to a penalty kick. Still, if the Mexican team honestly thinks it can make two goals on one penalty kick, I say bring everyone back and let them take it. Way to go team! Next up, Germany, legendary for its goalkeepers. I've set all out clocks to the locales that The U.S. might play if they continue to advance, and I am officially a football hooligan. I feel the urge to break things and trample people, but I will refrain.

I'll ask again though, seriously, who wants to trade shirts?

Ahhh summer time is here, and movies are everywhere. Check out the New Reviews.