I was walking down Third Avenue with Jeff, a Gooner who was making the convincing argument that since Eduardo da Silva had emigrated from Brazil to Croatia, he should no longer be referred to as "Crozilian," but rather as a "Broatian." "Doesn't it sound like more of a nationality to you? He's a Broat!" All of this was really cracking me up, and within minutes I was going around calling Eduardo the "Broatian Sensation," which put me in good spirits, considering my earlier frustration watching Liverpool blow numerous chances as well as piss away a good 4 minutes of stoppage time, failing to capitalize on a vulnerable Chelsea squad.

With a brilliant free-kick strike against D.C., the bequeathing of Galaxy captaincy from Landon Donovan, an appearance in the SuperLiga final and an England call-up in the works, it appears as though the David Beckham experiment is finally beginning to run according to script. Perhaps some of the adversity of the past month has been a bit of a blessing in disguise, as it appears as though the hoopla was enabled to extend itself just a little bit longer than it would had everything gone swimmingly from the start.

The Premiership season is upon us, and I can't really say that I'm ready. I am, without a doubt, excited, but in terms of actual preparedness I find myself a step behind. This could be due to the fact that I'm preparing for a weekend that includes both a bachelor party and a christening (if I go missing from this blog, it's probably a result of the lightning bolt that's coming my way for being at a strip club and church within a span of mere hours) and I'm likely to miss the opening of the season, or it could be the result of an unusual summer overload of football due to international competitions, SuperLiga and what's-his-name.