Still recovering from yesterday morning, when I got up at 6am and trudged to one of my local Irish pubs to watch the World Cup final. (No, not that kind of "still recovering" -- they can't serve booze that early in the morning in Massachusetts.) It was a festive enough crowd for that hour of the morning, though not half as insane as if Ireland had been in the finals, of course. When the game was over, the proprietor pulled the shades and the guy behind me remarked, "I feel like a vampire." It burns! It burns!

As for the game itself, well, you don't mess with South America. But it was nice to see Germany get so far. You kinda wanted to give their goalkeeper a hug; he looked about ready to commit ritual suicide at the end of the game, and the German press is going ballistic. Jeez, cut the guy a break: he was injured, he made some truly miraculous saves earlier in the game, and it's hard to beat the new Pele.