It’s World Cup time again, and Americans from Bangor to Batavia don’t even bother to stifle their quadrennial yawns, while more fervent patriots are praying to the God who adjudicates sporting events that the US team flames out early, as usual.
It’s been 32 years since the World Cup first tainted American soil. The 1994 invasion was a colossal flop, despite the corporate subsidies lavished by Coca-Cola, Mastercard and the usual suspects. The title game – oh, excuse me: match – a thrilling 0-0 tie in regulation between Brazil and Italy, did not win millions of new fans.
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