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Ring.... Ring.... I'm assuming with the time difference to France that I'm going to get Pele in jovial morning mood. Actually, I've tried his cellular a number of times already only to get the dreaded "not in service" response. This time, however, the great one is alive and kicking. "Bonjour, Ah! Joe mon ami, the very homme I wanted to parlez with." "Right back at ya," says I with no French to speak of. "The first round is over and we have to find excuses for our predictions, some of which look pretty foolish in the light of hindsight" I'm thinking if a fella could play soccer with hindsight, he'd have a pretty good teammate.
"No excuses Joe", says the enlightened one giving me another useful political lesson in dealing with life's little quandaries. "There's a very thin line between accurate predictions and inordinate luck. In my own group, ....sorry Brazil's group for example, Scotland played very well and got nothing. Morocco can fairly argue that they played even better and got nothing in return. Norway got a late and controversial penalty which was the difference in this group. Those are the breaks and it's a very thin line indeed." "So you want to ignore all the "what if" scenarios and deal with the facts," I hear coming from my mouth one more time impressed. After all millions of words will be written that no longer have a bearing on the destination of the world's most sought after trophy. I now knew that I couldn't brag over getting groups B and F and H exactly right or how close I was in C with the goal difference call. But I got to save face by ignoring the screw ups in the other groups and lived to fight another day. No need for a Stoichkov soliloquy or a Spanish swansong. "All righty then," says I displaying confidence beyond apparent justification. "We'll take a look at the second round games and go for broke one more time. No beating around the bush, Pele, 8 games and 8 results coming right up." "Exactly," says the playmaker. "I'm sure you agree with me that Brazil will have a South American battle royale with Chile before knocking them out." I'm already stumbling somewhat but recover nicely with "You and the rest of the world, Pele," only hoping that Zamorano, Salas and all the other Matadors and Bam Bams are on different wavelengths. A colorful gathering is guaranteed and a recording contract for the sounds emanating from the stadium is not beyond the boundaries of imagination.
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