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.


About zachdundas

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