...because that is all there were on Sunday's trek to Gillette Stadium where the US pounded the Sallies over and over again...making it one of the worst defeats this writer has ever seen. While the score does not belie the severity of the defeat, all of the big guns were taken out in this blowout win.

The Drive and Tailgate

The road to Gillette began when the four horsemen Paul, Jason, Ronen, and Drew, (sans Keith- who apparently had unnamed business in Boston prior to game day…more to come on his replacement), hooked up in Westchester at 8 am (a frustrated Ronen arriving 3 minutes late due to the acquisition of coffee and donuts by Jason, apparently a cataclysmic gaff in the “Wonder's” mind (see emails before game if you are confused). Ronen, masterfully guided us to the Stadium, except for a few lapses by yours truly, who to everyone's wonder was placed in the co-pilot seat despite having driven to Bean Town maybe once or twice in my life. In addition, slight delays were incurred due to Paul's need for very, very, very specific sun block, which had to be acquired from the back of the Big K store (it really is big), oh and of course we had to stop at Home Depot with Ronen driving. These stops also saw the arrival of our newest Idiot, a fancy shmancy bottle opener, with adaptable wine cork screw (just in case we ever have to satisfy Paul's delicate taste buds), obviating the need for Keith to appear at the tailgate in future games (Keith: I know you thought we were dependant on that little opener of yours, but we finally kicked the habit). The early bird Idiots arrived at the stadium to find all of the lots closed. We, thus, spent two hours in the baking sun, in the back of the Red Timber motel (or something designed to illicit thoughts of Red Roof Inn, but actually harkened back to the motel in Psycho) kicking the ball and playing monkey in the middle. I don't think either Drew or I can blame the alcohol for our poor play, reminding me of my childhood traumas as an inept soccer player in High School. Two hours later and after much debate about where to light up the grill, we elected to head into the stadium, where I must say, Ronen cooked a feast of Kabobs (chicken and meat) that probably surpassed our opening day celebration. The meal included fresh humus, chopped vegetables, and spices that turn you hair gray. Kudos to the chef. Since I don't recall any significant snafus getting into the game, I will forgo the transition section, not that we don't appreciate a little creativity on Brian's part.

The Game

As noted above, the game was a lopsided victory for the Americans, with Ching scoring after just five minutes into the match after a nice give and go by Convey. The Sallies were then forced to play a man short after Denis Alas's was ejected midway through the first half for wearing a gold chain or arguing or getting his second card, I have never been able to confirm which, but it appears it was the chain. From there on out, the Yanks dominated, yielding only one shot on Goal from El Salvador, and boring Timmy to tears. This game saw Landon Donovan score a second-half goal after nicely crossing over the middle to find the seam to the goal, and the United States won 2-0. While some reports claim the game was marred by violence among the players following a harsh foul on Beasley and first hard foul on Convey by Alas, the result was the evil Sallies were forced to bunker in and try to defend against a prominent US attack which saw 19 shots on goal. In addition, despite some criticism from the Idiots on the car ride home, I thought the Americans were phenomenal. Beasely time and again split defenders to lead the charge and made some beautiful crosses which should have been finished. We were also treated to Timmy's first world cup qualifier start, and after the crowd chanted bring on your Clint, Mathis arrived taking something like 7 shots in the final 11 minutes. It was simply a great game.