And speaking of summer...
Hopefully I can start a write up on the Summer Festival event for Tueur de Roi. At the same time, I'm liking the feel of using Korey. Now before any member of SHyn Corp thinks I'm a pervert like what Wani of the retail pharmacy enjoy saying (jokingly ofc, I mean Wani), let me show you guys something before a Korean decides to hire the service of Drew & Napier.
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| Whoops, wrong image. Sorry. Should be the one below... |
So there we have it...
The quarter-finals of this year's Euro. Hopefully I can finish covering all 8 fixtures instead of doing a Pt I to VIII.
Białe Orły
VS
A Selecção das Quinas
First up, Poland and Portugal. Suffice to say, neither team has yet to set the tourney alight. In the form of Robert "will he become Lews Therin Telamon?" Lewandowski, the Poles have the most potent six-footer hitman (albeit that's due to the absence of Le Benz). In the form of Cristiano "I don't come from Brazil" Ronaldo, the Portuguese have the most charismatic player still in the tourney. The only catch? Neither RL9 nor CR7 is currently deemed deserving of accolades worthy of their stature.
Let's talk about the Portuguese Armada first. The only match where we saw the real CR7 was against Hungary during the group stage. Against Croatia, the whole damn team chose to tank. Call it a twisted sense of humour from the footballing gods, but it also happened that Croatia chose to do the same. In fact, the only reason why the media chose to talk about Portugal tanking the 90 mins is due to the Croats being eliminated as a result. Can you imagine Bernard "the Tank of Oz" Tomic playing against Nick "the Tank Down Under" Kyrgios at the Australian Open men's singles final, only to see both tanks... well, tanking each other? That's how bad the Portugal-Croatia match was.
Then we have the Poles. Originally, much was expected from them. It's like anticipating a team of witchers to annihilate a mob of monsters, only to have a certain Ciri to bail them out instead (ok, I know Ciri is also a witcher. Happy?). Defensively, they're good. Going forward, their attack was as slow as a heavy infantry battalion marching through a forest. In other words, brace yourselves. A boring match is coming.
If you don't know who this Polish bloke is, let me introduce to you Jakub "I don't know how to pronounce his blasted last name" Błaszczykowski. Despite having a name which 99% of my fellow local S'poreans most likely can't pronounce properly, he's quintessentially the Polish hero of the moment. Forget about the reincarnation of Lews Therin Telamon or Rand al'Thor. The Poles now have an unexpected hero in the form of Perrin Aybara. In a tourney where no one expected a 30 yr old bloke to bail out a nation in a major tournament, Błaszczykowski was the reason why the Poles were able to do a 1-0 instead of doing a 0-0. His presence ultimately showed where the battle will be won.
If you think I'm being crazy by upping unrelated content, think again. As the song title suggests, both teams will be caught in the middle. In other words, it's going to be a match of attrition all over the middle 3rd. The team with a more robust midfield will control the battle, the team with a faster wing play will win the war. Do not be surprised if this fixture will last till AET or beyond. If this one can be ended by 90 minutes, it should be seen as the best form of euthanasia. Period.
Y Dreigiau
VS
De Rode Duivels/Les Diables Rouges/Die Roten Teufel
Not so long ago, Wales as a footballing nation is only known for a certain Ryan "I don't break other people's legs" Giggs. Not so long ago, Belgium as a footballing nation is only known for the beer, chocolates, waffles, mussels, and Jean-Claude "not Van Damned" Van Damme. And yes, we also have one of the finest female tennis players in the form of Justine "she doesn't hit like the Williams" Henin. How the times have changed. Cardiff and Swansea managed to prove the conspiracy theorists wrong by securing promotion (after all, the Welsh ain't English). Belgium managed to prove that with fine food comes a brand of football equally fine.
If you ended up at the Wall, it means your life must have sucked terribly hard. Not only that, it also means your life is doomed to suck even harder. While this is no indication of how it feels to be a Belgian or Welsh, the key victory (for one nation) and defeat (for the other) lies in the thankless task of manning the wall. For the Welsh, it's all about 5 men across the width, whether it's down at the back or up front in the midfield. For the Belgians, it's all about 6 men behind 4, a four by two formation (no racist jokes please. I'm no Cockney). Interestingly enough, Jon Snow was made a steward of the Night's Watch for a very good reason. It's called leadership.
Ultimately, it won't be the Welsh tenacity or Belgian finesse which will win the match. At the same time, it's never down to Gareth "not Christian" Bale or Eden "the Duke of Hazard" Hazard to win the match. Hell, it's not even Aaron "will his next missile destroy ISIS?" Ramsey, Kevin "the male Brünnhilde" De Bruyne, or even Joe "not Ledley" Allen.
Rather, it's all about how fast either team can stage that counter-offensive which matters most. As what Romelu "the black Romulus" Lukaku has already proven against the Irish, it's down to tactical cohesion in a collective sense. Something the English failed to understand for the past donkey years. Perhaps even now.
Next up: The last 2 fixtures aka The (Footballing) Gods Must be Crazy.
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