Life is about getting past mistakes and missed opportunities, and it appears that you should be doing so today. Instead of slipping on spilled cans of beer, or looking for a hazmat suit to enter the port-o-john at an outdoor viewing party, you might have been able to pull off watching the Women’s World Cup final with Jay Z and Beyoncé.
But you didn’t.
How’s your Monday going, anyway? Between 4th of July festivities, celebrating the U.S. women’s beatdown of Japan at the World Cup final, and attending Carli Lloyd’s coronation as Queen of All Things, you’ve had a busy weekend. I can only assume you are reading this from under your desk at work. Most likely hiding from the bright fluorescent lights in your office as you curl up in a hungover ball of meat sweats and hazy memories.
There’s no chance in hell that you’ll be doing anything productive today. It’s not your fault, really. Blame FIFA for scheduling the World Cup final during a weekend when your nationalism knob was already cranked to eastern European levels. You’re not responsible for anything you’ve done these past three days. It says so in the fine print of the Patriot Act.
Yeah, your Sunday was a blur of Yuengling bucket specials and 2-for-1 queso dip. You gave your number to some guy who was in town from Omaha. You had a great conversation about why the Confederate flag should come down. It got a little weird when he started making geisha girl jokes after doing shots at halftime, but you had fun.
But if you take a moment to reflect and be honest with your inner voice, you know that wasn’t the vibe you set out for when you left the house. You deserved better. You wanted to “America” pretty hard, but you wanted to do so with a bit of class and sophistication. The problem is, you didn’t know anyone who shared in your social sensibilities who you could have enjoyed the game with.
Turns out, you could have hit up the Carters and and spilled expensive cognac on yourself instead if Fireball whiskey.
After the design of the new crest for women’s jerseys (complete with an added third world championship star) was unveiled, some fans questioned its shape. Turns out, the stellar pyramid look isn’t a sign of Abby Wambach’s allegiances to the Illuminati, but just U.S. Soccer’s way of throwing up the dynasty sign and letting us know that the ROC is definitely in the building. Maybe both.
The Carters are common and accessible people. Undoubtedly, they would have been cool with random fans showing up to their house for a watch party, provided they brought chips or whatever. Hell, if Hov was staying true to his Brooklyn roots, he had a grill out on his sidewalk, a boombox plugged into a streetlight, and the whole neighborhood was invited.
There’s even a good chance that Prince was there at the Carters’ place, wrapped in a purple flag, sharing his amazing macaroni salad recipe with Solange. They probably talked about how Prince didn’t understand why Becky Sauerbrunn doesn’t get more press. You would have fit right in.
This was your chance to bask in American sporting perfection in a setting that met your high-class needs. It’s too bad you didn’t know sooner. It may be time to re-evaluate the quality of your social circles.