Torino 0:2 Juventus
I wasn’t expecting very much. It may be a derby, but c’mon, it’s the Toros and it’s not like they were supposed to be much of a threat. They’re only seven points north of the relegation zone. I hope they stay up and everything–I think they will, probably–but on paper this was supposed to be a relatively easy match and it most certainly was not. For most of the match, the Toros overachieved and the Zebes underperformed and Gigi was called on to make a few saves that he probably shouldn’t have had to make and Mirko was even more ineffective than usual and at about minute 70, I looked over at Mr. Dirtbunny and said “This is a null-null draw, isn’t it?” and he said that it was. But he was wrong. (Sorry. That was a little snotty. We were talking just now and he was arguing with me over whether Ian Joy is British and he said “I know these things” and I felt like it was 1908 and he was explaining to me why girls should not vote and should trust men to make decisions for them because men just know things that women cannot possibly understand. Which is not at all what he meant. Probably. No, he’s not sexist. He wouldn’t say that women shouldn’t vote; he’d just say that Dirtbunny shouldn’t vote, because she’s demented.)
But that is not how things turned out at all. Juve held onto it’s patience much longer than Bunny did and scored two late goals to secure a glorious victory, etc. It was all very happy-making. Also? It was raining in Torino and everyone got all wet and if you know I mean then….. then you know what I mean *eyebrow waggle* and I need say no more and if you don’t know what I mean then Trust Me. You Don’t Want To Know.
Let’s begin with a lucky contest winner, Piccolo Alessandro, as the photo credits call him:
Then again, the photos credits also say that this is a photo of Claudio Marchisio signing a jersey when it is plainly no such thing. Not that it matters. Whatever Claudio does, he does it like a boss, even when he does it while carrying a man-bag that is not at all from the American Macho school of fashion.
So, the Cavaliere Oscuro can write, can he? He was a right dingbat this weekend and was lucky not to get called for a penalty. AND he’s wearing those cheesy sunglasses that Lapo Elkann introduced at last year’s scudetto celebration. Dude: if you can afford a Ferrari, you can afford a pair of Wayfarers. BTW: Piccolo Alessandro is wearing a Vucinic jersey, the poor lad.
Oh, Giorgio. It’s a public appearance, not a trip to the dentist. Can you at least pretend that the prospect of being interviewed by Piccolo Alessandro is not the most depressing thing since Quags got broken at Parma?
That’s better. Nice backdrop.
There has also been a bit of training lately.
Oh no! Poor Caceres! I didn’t know that the car accident broke your hair too! Pobre cito! Here, let me kiss your bald spot. *mwah* Let’s see: Pirlo is smiling, Peluso is looking oddly long-waisted, and PDC’s eyes are looking all dreamy.
Oh for crying out loud. Is it really necessary to carry on with the pretense that Nicklas Bendtner has a future as a Juventus player and just send him home for the rest of the season? Why bother training him? Grrrrrr.
And then we have some dramatic photos of Zebes inspecting the pitch before the match under a threatening sky.
Andrea Pirlo. Like a boss. Obviously.
Leonardo Bonucci. Like a slightly confused boss. I’m so pleased he’s grown out his hair a little bit. Tighten up your tie a bit, sweetie.
Paul Pogba. Ready for the big time. He’s Heathcliff on the moor, right before the storm. nngghh
Luca Marrone. Still working on it. Watch Pogba, honey, and practice doing it like he does it.
Gianluigi Buffon. I think this is the save he had to make when the defense lost track of (of all people) Mario Alberto Santana. This guy, if you’ve been with me for a while:
Fortunately for us all, Gigi was awake even if the defenders weren’t. Speaking of defenders…..
Um, no. First let’s get the Mirko out of the way so we don’t have to talk about him any more. As with last week, Conte started Mirko Vucinic as The Lone Striker. Mirko, as you can see, has gone for This Year’s Crappy Haircut just like all the other Serie A sheep, only Mirko got his done by a blind seven-year-old with a rusty jackknife. It’s the ferric oxide that makes it so special. And now let’s admire our Magnificent Defenders.
Andrea Barzagli, La Roccia, seen here battling with Douchebag of the Match Riccardo Meggiorini. He’s number 69, which makes him either Beavis (heh heh heh) or Butthead (heh heh heh). (If there’s a non-douchey explanation for his choice of number, I really don’t want to know what it is.)
Here’s our Dre with Rolando Bianchi.
Ooooooh. Very nice composition. Don’t forget to tip your photographer, ladies and gentlemen.
My Leo. *sigh* So Leo decided to make an obvious grab on Jonathas‘ jersey in the box and should have been called for a penalty and that would have changed everything. Fortunately, Mr. Bergonzi is a terrible referee, so he missed the call and Leo got away with it. A careful defender would have performed a quick cost/benefit analysis (What’s the worst that can happen if the Toros score? How would a draw affect the scudetto race? What are risks?) and made a reasoned decision, but Leo’s tiny little beagle brain can’t perform that sort of calculation with any speed, so he’s prone to dingbattedness. I’ve been trying to work with him, but he’s almost impervious to training. His punishment for the shirt-pull was that he had to clear all the pollen and related spring-time tree detritous from my back deck so we can go outside once in a while before the summer comes and it’s 95 degrees every day. He did a crappy job, but he did it while wearing wet shorts, so I overlooked his deficiencies.
Giorgio Chiellini. Federico Peluso was pretty, but now that Chiello is back, I don’t miss Peluso at all.
LOOK AT HIS FACE! His adversary here is Kamil Glik, Mindless Brute of the Toro back line. Glik got sent off (DRINK!) but not until the 90th minute. Predictable, but not very helpful, as it turned out.
Big Ugly Monster Stephan Lichtsteiner was kept unexpectedly busy. He’s still a monster, so he got carded just before the half. Conte wisely subbed him out in the 74th before he got a second yellow.
For Christ’s sake, man! It’s only Santana for crying out loud!
Speaking of Antonio Conte, it seems that he has decided to marry the woman who is the mother of his child and has been his wife-in-all-but-name since Grover Cleveland was president, and this is somehow supposed to be a big deal. What’s going on here? You’re already married, just not legally. Sign some papers and get it over with. I…I’m finally ready to take that last step and commit. Jeez. You don’t get medals for the act of ceasing to be a big baby.
Ahhhh, the bench. Sebastian Giovinco, chewing his fingernails. Marco Storari, looking completely disengaged. Nicklas Bendtner, sleeping with eyes open, or perhaps passed out drunk. (Send him back already! It’s pointless to keep him around! grrrr) Emanuele Giaccherini, sporting his new Haircut of The Year, and looking especially bad in it. Luca Marrone, mouth-breathing,. Simone Padoin, meditating on his good fortune. Paolo De Ceglie, head cocked fetchingly to the right. Rubinho, um, being Rubinho.
Um, is it just me…
or does this look like what PDC would look like if he were a zombie weirdo? PDC has better hair, of course.
Kwadwo Asamoah is playing like his normal self again.
Oooh. Nice furrowed brow you got going there, Asabob.
I’m still amazed that this was even necessary given how mediocre Santana was at la Viola (sorry Martha; I love him but he kinda sucks), but Paul Pogba helped Lichtsteiner whenever Santana slipped his collar and started playing, um,
good well. Pogba is a beast.
Not so much a beast here. More like a character from a Monty Python sketch who has just been instructed to “Walk This Way.” Don’t forget to wave at QuasimodoSantana and DOTM Meggiorini.
He’s a badass and he keeps getting better. Makes Luca Marrone look like he’s 16 instead of 23.
He had an awesome chance to score the go-ahead goal towards the end of the match, but…..
…he missed. Oops. Whatever. He makes fail look good.
It was a rough day for Andrea Pirlo. When the hairz get wet, it is more difficult for to cover the ears.
Plus, DOTM Meggiorini fouled the crap out of him a number of times.
Meggiorini was a busy boy. Apparently, the FIGC is opening an investigation into allegations that he made racial insults to Pogba. His defense is (1) It was a normal insult, not a racial insult and (2) Insults happen so get over it. #2 doesn’t sound very much like an apology, and #1 sounds a bit like Lance Armstrong telling Oprah that he never said Betsy Andreu was fat. Whatta prince of a guy!
And so, we find ourselves in the 90th minute of the match and I’m hardly even paying attention anymore when Arturo Vidal broke through the stupor by slipping a shot in between Jean-Francois Gillet and the post.
Wha? Goal? GOAL? GOAL! Hahahahahaha. Juve is going to win the Derby della Mole!
Yay! sez the bench. I think Marco Storari is going to get there first. I guess he wasn’t disengaged after all. Awww. Look how happy the BUM is!
Wow, Barza. I didn’t know you had it in you. Well. You’re just going to have to move into the barracks out back with the rest of the harem.
My only regret is that they all stayed vertical. There was, alas, no manpile. It’s been a long time since there was a manpile, come to think of it. Anyway, lookit Leo getting wound up to jump.
I’m pretty sure that he’s the heaviest guy on the team, except maybe for Gigi, bit he never seems remotely concerned about the possibility that he’ll crush someone. I mean Pirlo’s only about 145 or so and Giovinco is barely 85 pounds! (Not really. Don’t be so serious.)
This goes in here somewhere. Conte has the magic of being able to glomp like he’s still an active player without looking completely ridiculous. Maybe Stramaccioni can do it. Montella can’t; he’s young enough but his coaching persona is too cool and dispassionate to pull off a good glomping.
Il Principino. It seems like it’s been a while since he got a goal, but then, he tends to show up in big games, and this was a derby.
It wasn’t over. Claudio Marchisio scored off a Pirlo free kick with an assist from Quags. This wasn’t it, but you get the idea.
Awwwww. Such a pretty smile.
And a little bit of rawr too.
The whole thing ended with the traditional big jump:
What on earth……..
OMG. That’s disgusting.
Oh! That’s not an infection or anything. Leo has the pallone shoved down his pants. Dingbat. Chiello, on the other hand, is just being Chiello. Ahem.
Caceres’s bald spot. 🙁 *pats him*
The BUM, not looking particularly monster-ish as he takes a cuddle with El Pelado. Um, hey Martin, we need to have a talk about your pal Luis Suarez. I know you love him, but I need to be convinced that he’s not an uncontrollable psychopath. Stop by the house on the way back to the harem, mkay?
And we end where we began. Gigi Buffon. The best there ever was.
Next match is…..um….the fifth. What day is the fifth? OK . Next match is Sunday at home against Palermo.
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