Gentle reader, our last match was, in the words of any good Midwesterner, “Ope!” A bit of a surprise, to be honest. Our beloved El FC had been riding higher than prime John Bonham. In fact, I was feeling so good, I found myself humming what is perhaps the greatest cover of any song anywhere, anytime. Stevie the Genius wrote it and these boys took it to a new level (Flea’s a fuckin’ badass).
Well, it turns out that ambitious spirit we had was not warranted. My hens predicted the corrrect number of goals, but they missed that Miami would earn one of them.
Phil was overly opitimistic and waaaay off.
So, in light of conceding poor goals and being generally out played, the club acquired a young defender on loan.
I asked Wolfie what she thought of this and this was her response:
I understood. She was a smidge confused and a tad upset. But, in the end, both she and I felt optimistic about this move. Better to invest in youth with high ceilings rather than 30 something year old journeymen who are entering the sunsets of their careers.
And so, our boys in viridis make their way to the midwest, land of cheese curds, corn, generally good manners, and bad dad jokes.
Wolfie turned to me and furrowed her brow, clearly not pleased with me. I proferred my best apologies. Unaware if she accepted them or not, she did leap twice to the left and once to the right.
Uh-oh.
El FC 1-2 Ope
Louis de Ludovico
Viewing McKalla as his personal empire, Louis lives for the beautiful game. And food. Especially flamingo tongues. A chicken savant.