Kicking Team When Down Becomes the American Way

Among the thousands of words written about the U.S. team in the past few days, none were more telling, or more humorous, than these penned by Tom Powers of the St. Paul Pioneer Press:

“The really good soccer players have only one name. Like Romario and Bebeto. But if the United States’ athletes went by one name, the play-by-play would go something like this:

“Inepto . . . passes to Disgusto . . . over to Misfiro . . . back to Lethargico . . . and the ball rolls out of bounds.”

Cruel, yes, but oh so apt.

DON’T HOLD PICKLES

Perhaps somewhere in England there lives the distant offspring of Pickles, the dog who became an international celebrity in 1966 when he found the stolen World Cup trophy in an English garden.

Because the English, as is their bemused nature, have managed to lose it again.

This time it’s not the real trophy, but a gold-plated replica, worth about $2,000, that was being rented by the British Broadcasting Corp. for $150 a week and used in the BBC’s graphic design department.

The BBC was supposed to return it to its owner, a prop company, but somehow the trophy was mislaid or stolen and never got there.

Pickles IV or V would have been on the case in a minute.