Friday, November 26, 2010


While TIET's hella-extended post-WC hiatus continues feel free to creep up on our other homes on the the web:

F*ck Yeah Canadian Soccer

Tumblr is the new black blah blah.

And now back to your usual dust collecting.

Dame xx

Friday, July 16, 2010


[Up in this blog for no apparent reason: Ah, what better way to finish this
thing off. Carlos Bocanegra second from the left. I'm just as confused as you are.]

As the drunkity-drunk celebratory videos and pictures finally stop trickling through so too comes the end of our little mini-blog. It's been fun, guys. As ThisIsExtraTime went on an extended hiatus some time ago, it was nice to have this shiny new place to corrupt all on my own... to have my complain-y moments and such: google-stalking the Yanks, laughing at the Germans and bitching about the CBC. I truly didn't realize how much I actually missed this stuff.

So, a massive thank you to the few of you who followed along throughout the past month or so. An extra special thanks of course goes out to those who followed me over here from TIET. You are love, basically. In regards to the future of TIET, I'm currently working on a redesign and will be re-launching that ever-loving graveyard of a blog again in September. Same crap, different pile.

In the meantime however, better blogs can be found in the Recommended Reading section. Personal faves include Pitch Invasion, Unprofessional Foul, A More Splendid Life, The Offside Rules (for all your Yank google-stalking needs, really), From a Left Wing, Needs More Kittens, Dirty Tackle and yes, ONTD f***ing Football (don't hate the spunky and spectacularly raucous fangirl presence, people -- appreciate).

Until next time!
xo Dame

TIET TMI du Jour: Thierry Henry has officially retired from international football. Yes, obvious news is obvious. Nevertheless I will cling to this opportunity to spam myself with pictures of a 21 year old Titi at the 1998 WC like David Beckham clings to England. And I'll probably throw in some vintage Bobby Pires and Paddy Vieira for good taste. Don't try to console me with the Red Bulls chatter either. It won't help.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010


[I have no idea why Steve and Buddle are standing so far away like that. It's making me nervous. Let's hope these fellas aren't about to go all France on us.]

Landon's goal against Algeria won Best Moment at the ESPYs tonight. I won't beat around the bush here, people: each and every one of these men could so get it right now. Yes, even you Landycakes.

In other news, Maury has spoken. Landon is not the father -- he told E! Online in a red carpet interview: 'I will not be a dad any time soon, which is good news for me.' Don't lie and pretend like you're all happy for him and stuff. We both know you were looking forward to a crazy sex scandal hitting American soccer upside the head like Gerard Pique's spit hitting the back of an old dude's neck.

Oh, and he's back with Bianca.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010


[Pique spits on someone. Precious.]

There are a lot of different types of drunks: the crier, the angry drunk who feels the urge to fight with anyone and anything (true story: I was at a party once where a dude got into a fight with a bathroom door. don't ask.), the drunk who tells you that she loves you and everyone and 'THIS PARTY IS AWESOME, WHOOOO!' Then there's Gerard Pique's type. He'll probably wake up when all the partying is over (and this feels never-ending...) with a few people still really pissed at him because he took a joke or two too far. We won't even get into the Cesc/Barcelona shirt incident.

Monday, July 12, 2010


[Torres makes his way home after winning the World Cup: I know I'm not the only one who got extra close to my screen in order to figure out what was on his laptop.
Someone call the creeper police.]

World Cup finals always feel oddly anticlimactic. Maybe it's because every movement becomes so deliberate that the whole match seems to be going in slow motion. Maybe it's because the sense of occasion is so immediately apparent to everyone that surreality enters the picture. Like, is this real life? Another World Cup final? But it looks like a normal match. The grass is still green and aside from Shakira jaunting about in a bikini top and some extensive hand-shaking taking place before kick-off, everything looks the same.

Whatever the reason, the urge to play that free-flowing, 'let's-get-up-there-and-score-a-goal-already!' football has dissipated by the time the World Cup final rolls around. It's a wholly different affair -- as it should be. At this point, the urge to watch that kind of football has left you entirely as well. Foolishly chucking the ball at the goal 'just 'cause' would not longer be put into the 'harmlessly ambitious' category. It would be downright inexcusable now. The time for mistakes -- an adventurous kind of football -- is gone.

Despite the slightly subdued sights on the field though, the tension is always there. It's what renders the weary sort of football we see at World Cup finals bearable. Enjoyable, even. Every time anyone makes a run into the final third or a free kick is given: is this it?! Is this going to be the goal that will live on in highlight reels for all time?

Sigh! No, Ramos misses. And the whole game seems to go on like that.

Simultaneously, and sort of ironically, it's that sense of something always about to happen that kind of, well, ruins it too. You're no longer able to just sit back and enjoy things anymore. Nothing's ever really a genuine surprise. Everything is so hotly anticipated that when it happens a small voice in the back of your mind cries, 'Well it's about fucking time!' When Dutch Kung Fu master Nigel de Jong launches an MMA style high kick into Xabi Alonso's chest, you think, 'Well, the way this was going... that was bound to happen.'

Sunday, July 11, 2010


[Yes, 'awwwwwww' is the correct descriptive word.]

Yeah, well, I guess you can't argue with that. If that doesn't shut the Sara Carbonero haters up than I don't know what will.


[Octopus looks far too eager.]

It's difficult to care about a World Cup final that includes two of your most loathed teams. In this case, Spain and the Netherlands. Spain because they're... well... Spain and I've never liked them. And the Netherlands because they're not supposed to win. It's just the way it is. Neither teams have really done anything at this tournament to change my opinion of them either. This coming from a girl who took Uruguay under her wing when they knocked out Ghana in what, at the time, seemed like the biggest dick move of all time. But 1 nil victories and chucking the ball around like 12-year-olds running through a passing drill? Yeah, You can keep whatever you've got Spain. Today will hardly be a classic.

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