Last Thursday night, at a sweltering bar in Brooklyn, Umbro hosted their first Foosball Cup and DT happened to be one of the 16 teams involved. In an effort to stoke the Internet's biggest non-existent rivalry, we were matched up against the privacy-invading street peepers that call themselves Google in the opening round.
I served as manager, while Carter and his hand-picked teammate served as the actual foosball players on team DT. Our strategy was a simple one: drink (the beer was good and free) and play foosball. Fortunately, our skill at the first task made the latter borderline irrelevant.
The official rules (which included the polite request to "please do not spin the rods") specified that the first team to five goals would win and advance. We fell behind 4-1. Like the soulless robots that they are, the Googlers refused to speak or acknowledge the taunts I shouted at them. But, like the miracle in Istanbul (except nothing at all like the miracle in Istanbul), we battled back. Carter scored a wonder goal to shift the moment and within seconds, it was back even at 4-4. And then Google scored a winner and, suddenly, I understood everything Jose Mourinho has ever said about Barcelona.
As Google advanced to the next round, I realized that they too must be a part of the UNICEF conspiracy that has helped Barcelona hold an edge over Mourinho's Real Madrid. As further evidence of this, just type "Google+UNICEF" into Google search and you'll see evidence of the many forms their charitable collusion takes.
Also, our referee was drinking a beer during the match. Even Tom Henning Ovrebo didn't do that.
Anyway, at least we didn't lose to the nightclub team or the hair stylist team or any of the other random sides that were in the tournament (something called "Psyop" won it). And in the end, we got revenge on Google in a way that would've made Mourinho proud...
Here's the final bracket:
As you can see, the UNICEF conspiracy can only take you so far without also having a Leo Messi.
So, that was the Umbro Foosball Cup. Maybe next year, I'll poke one of Google's assistant coaches in the face. I mean, we all have to set goals for ourselves, right?
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