Still Only One Sancho

What the Brit writers would call a “brave effort” by the Trinibagonians leaves me as exhausted as Brent Sancho himself must feel. I watched the game at Costello’s Travel Caffe, in what might be the heart of Portland’s World Cup action: the Rose & Thistle, Costello’s and Hugo’s, more or less right in a row on Northeast Broadway. The curb was lined with SUVs sporting England flags; the crowd was full of England supporters of all ages who, thank Jupiter, were not drinking. The Lions kept ’em on the edge, provoking numerous near-miss gasps and a general jollity when Rooney came on.

Which led me to wonder: just how hard-boiled do you have to be to actually support a team like England in a game like this? I understand you want your country to move on through, but it seems sort of inhuman to cheer actively AGAINST battling Trinidad.

[Whatever, Dundas, you hypocrite—who do you root for when USA plays ’em in the qualifiers? Fair point.]

Anyway, ex-Timber Brent Sancho once again did himself reasonably proud, and the Soca Warriors can hold their heads high after that. Paraguay? Bring ’em on.

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About zachdundas

Freelance journalist. Author of The Renegade Sportsman (Riverhead Books). Thank you.
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