With these can’t miss Champions League predictions.

1 ) A team that is not a champion of its domestic league will win the Champions League.

The FA Cup does not count.

2 ) The EPL will vote this year’s Champions League as the best ever.

Then the EPL will vote the EPL voting record as the best ever. What a fucking amazing year.

3 ) The champion of the Champions League will be decided by a playoff, not a league format.

Regular season? Ha.

4 ) Players suspended for misbehavior in a prior match will not play key roles.

Stop holding your breath.

5 ) If the first half is different from the second half, a match report titled “A Tale of Two Halves” will appear.

You will vomit.

6 ) If the game is decided by penalty kicks, a pundit will say the word “cruel.”

You will feel a vomit reflex.

7 ) You may hear the Champions League anthem more than once.

You will feel a very strong vomit reflex.

8 ) Phillip Lahm is not going to grow any taller.

I hate to break the bad news.

9 ) Players and coaches for at least two Spanish clubs will think “I could have won that.”

Even though, in fact, they did not.

10 ) Pele will predict that this year’s Champions League final will win the World Cup.

And who can fault him?

Elliott is kickstartering for his second book, Real Madrid & Barcelona: the Making of a Rivalry. Help him raise $1,000 by June 6 by visiting here.

Thus, we’ve sifted through a few key historical and Manchester-related alleged “signs of weakness.” Some are obvious. Some, not so much. Please keep them in mind as you watch Mario Balotelli either score a winner or get red carded during the derby.

 1184 BC: The Trojan Horse & The Glorious Defeat of the Greeks!

After ten years of fighting, the Greeks had little to show for their efforts. The City of Troy remained well-fortified and well supplied. Basically, the Greeks attempted a siege but left their siege tanks at home. Definitely not a bright idea. So, the Greeks devised a plan. They pretended to retreat, but left the gift of a wooden horse to the Trojans. Inside that horse, soldiers carefully hid and hoped the ruse would work. Despite warnings from the priest Laocoon, the Trojans saw this really large wooden horse and thought, cool, bastards left town and aren’t sore losers. Smell ya later Greek geeks!

We all know what happened. The hidden Greek soldiers came out at night and and sacked Troy. Pwnage. Instead of being a conciliiatory gift or sign of weakness, the horse was a trap. The Trojans’ hubris betrayed them. Today, many people hear the word “Trojan” and think of either family planning or nasty computer viruses. Yet we should always keep in mind this false portent. Beware gifts of thy enemy.

June 18, 1815 AD – Napoleon Totally Has This One In the Bag

Napoleon did more for little dudes than the entire cast of Pit Boss combined. He forever lowered the height requirement for emperors of Western European nations, won some battles, and showed great things come in small packages. In fact, his own “package” has been the subject of considerable debate & is a highly sought private auction item. At his peak, nobody dissed Napoleon, nobody.

By the time 1815 rolled around, all the pundits picked Napoleon for some serious decisive conquest. The Anglo-Allied army? Ha. Everybody heard the name “Gebhard von Blucher” and just kinda giggled quietly to themselves. Still, the Seventh Coalition featured some typically ferocious tackling from the Duke of Wellington’s forces, and Gary Neville would probably have picked them to overpower Napoleon’s continental dandycakes. And, just like with the EPL, Neville would have disagreed with you, ended up being right, and caused some major consternation and self-doubt. Napoleon lost. But why?

Bottom line: Napoleon’s own confidence was his sign of strength and he only saw signs of weakness in his foes. Hubris clouded his judgment. He initiated the Battle of Waterloo to try and strike early before the Seventh Coalition formed, but, on game day, he waited until midday for the fields to fully dry. For the first but not last time in history, a shitty pitch and questionable match scheduling contributed to the fall of a continental power. Napoleon lost and resigned himself to being the Pep Guardiola that never was. What-er-looser!

March 21, 2012 – Vieira Totally Predicts Paul Scholes to Flop

During Christmas break, Sir Alex found himself short on midfielders: Anderson was either partying or “recuperating” in Brazil, depending on which of his drunk bodyguards you asked. Tom Cleverly was also crocked. Manchester United needed help in the center. Thus, Sir Alex convinced Paul Scholes to come out of retirement. Manchester City’s director of dumb remarks, Patrick Vieira, immediately seized on the action and declared it a “sign of weakness.” What happened next?

Since then, Scholes and Carrick have rekindled their midfield bromance and United are level with City on points. Scholesy has even scored one of his trademark “how the hell did this happen” header goals. Thus, Vieira saw the recruiting of a veteran player as a sign of weakness. However, the Frenchman failed to realize that class is eternal, especially when you never really tackled all that much as a youth. Scholes’ game centers on snap decisions and precision passing – neither of which has atrophied with time. And the ginger just may be essential in the game vs. City.

March 23, 2012 – Sir Alex Calls out City Desperation Over Tevez Return

You didn’t think SAF would let another coach or media figure get the last word, did you? Thus, mere days later, in the heat of the Premiership title race, Sir Alex pointed out that Carlos Tevez had basically blown off Mancini for half a year yet now the Italian caved & took him back. Surely, Sir Alex stated, this reeked of desperation. Eastlands fans asked: could the calmer heads in the City locker room, like Mario “veteran presence” Balotelli, cancel out Carlitos’ antics & petulance?

Thus far, Sir Alex looks wrong. In addition to increasing City’s sex appeal quotient, Tevez has combined well with Sergio Aguero and scored goals by the bucket load. In a bizarre twist, his six months of golf only marginally improved his handicap, yet left him with fresh legs for the stretch run. In the upcoming Manchester derby, Tevez is a key player/heartthrob. His smile may show weakness in the Eastlands’ players dental plan, but nobody can deny his goalscoring & dribbling exploits. He’s the poor man’s “post-car accident” George Best that can’t afford facial surgery. Tevez has returned as a spark plug, not a weak point.

From the Trojan horse to Tevez’s teeth, so called signs of weakness dot the landscape. However, beware the hubris of the speaker. If he says that “X is a sign of weakness,” then….that statement is probably itself a sign of weakness.

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But the Clasico exceeds in self-appointed grandiosity any old run-of-the-mill Champions League quarterfinal clash. Thus, flash forward several months and add millions of dollars to the movie’s budget. Plot-wise, the vampires have since graduated from high school. They and their werewolf double agent allies have plotted to take over a small pioneer town by the name of Bernabo Bay. Only one thing can stop them: Cowboys. And one more thing: Aliens. And one last thing: Predator.

Of course, we can never fathom why this macabre collection of nocturnal monsters desires to take over Bernabo Bay. Tis a quaint town with humble hardworking folks that work hard in mines. The vampire leader, the fanged and immaculately-eye-brow plucked Count Xavi Nosferatu, has perhaps grown restless in his old age and got bored with his haunted Castle Nou near Mont Thabor. Regardless, he brashly believes that Draculiniesta and fierce werewolves Masher and Busk will make quick work of the townfolk.

They are in for a rude awakening. Bernabo Bay is aware of the impending attack thanks to their own double agent: skinny and socially awkward vampire heartthrob Angel de Muerte. De Muerte looks like an emaciated kid with a tapeworm or a teenager who went vegan to impress a goth chick, but don’t let appearances fool you – he is as quick with his mind as with his feat. He cleverly befriended Lord Leo, a knight of the vampire order, and learned of their attack.

He reported the pending vampire & werewolf invasion to Joe Mayorinho, the town mayor. Mayorinho held a town hall meeting that at times grew rowdy. Peppy, a local ruffian, suggested that they all just kick and step on the vampires until cracking their shins and every metatarsal in their feet. Rancher Sammy the Kid suggested they merely body slam the werewolves into a million pieces. Mayroinho listened to their suggestions, and he liked them. But he also had his own grand plan.

During the meeting, at the back of  the town hall stood the cool and eternally calm cowboy Shabby Lonzo. He smirked from time-to-time and puffed on a cigar.

Shabby and Mayorinho both knew the inherent difficulties of vampire combat – any single one could bite you at any single time. Even a prick from vampirocito Alex Sancho would be fatal. The vampires would form a long and spread-out line, appearing thin in ranks. However, at the first sign of success at any single link in the chain, they would then shift their formation to fully press that particular spot. They attacked like water – first a drop, then a flood. The townsfolk did not have time to construct a metaphorical dam, but they would need to stay compact and prioritize the City Hall, the Grain Depository, and the Post Office (with its telegram in case reinforcements had to be called). United, they had a chance. Separated, they would fail.

They would also need help. Each vampire posed a threat, but the Lord Leo and Count Xavi Nosferatu must be divided and accounted for at all times. No human being could stop Lord Leo in flight. Not even a hungry werewolf. They would need help from out of this world. They would need an alien.

Not just any alien would be able to tail Lord Leo. The alien must be fleet of foot but also incorporate unique cloaking techniques so as to render itself invisible at key moments, but also blind Lord Leo at appropriate times. Ideally, the species of alien would have a white cranium that could reflect light to accomplish both those tasks. Thus, Shabby Lonso, despite the inherent frailty and great risk of any cowboy-alien alliance, sent smoke signals into the sky. And sure enough, an alien ship responded, landed, and down came the white-craniumed Coentraooooo. His bleached scalp temporarily blinded Shabby. Perfect, Shabby thought, rubbing his eyes.

Alien forces would also be necessary for any hope of attack. The rear of the vampire legion was guarded by two ferocious werewolves, Masher and Busk. No man could get past them. Even for an alien, battling hand-to-hand with werewolves was a fool’s errand. The alien species must defeat them through slipperiness, not strength. Shabby needed an alien ally with an incredibly moist and slick cranium that could avoid werewolf teeth, and also fake-baked smooth and plasticy skin that could avoid werewolf claws.

He knew who he needed. And, with assistance from Coentraooooo, he coaxed the slimy Crishtano into landing on Earth and forming an alliance with the folk of Bernabo Bay. Still, Crishtano would not start the fight. Rather, he would lurk in a bunker at the end of a very long tunnel and wait for the right moment to spring forth. Joe Mayorinho organized and rallied his men, designated Shabby as lieutenant, and prayed for victory.

A full moon peaked through the clouds. The witching hour approached. The vampires stealthily crept closer. For all the moon’s whiteness, a sea of red soon flooded the town of Bernabo Bay. The townsfolk unleashed an ambush. Ruffians and ranchers and cowboys and vampires and aliens did battle. It was a battling battle of battles that can only be described as battlerific. On a ten-point scale of battleosity, it would have ranked just above Hannibal’s crossing of the alps and just below the Battle of Carthage. 7.8, to be precise.

On the field of battle, the battlers battled valiantly. The townsfolk swarmed Lord Leo at every available instant. At one critical juncture, Peppy tossed a special wooden, silver-lined stake (designed to be deadly for both vampires and werewolves) at the young Lord. His compatriots screamed in horror as the wooden, silver-linted stake flew through the air.

Masher, the werewolf, sensed the danger and sprinted towards his ally, Lord Leo, intending to heroically throw himself in the line of danger. He was willing to sacrifice his own tortured existence for the greater vampire-werewolf good. He galloped a might gallop, with all his might. However, he inexplicably fell to the ground and clutched his ankle, despite no contact whatsoever from any other person or object. Nobody knows why he fell.

Busk, the other werewolf, also alert to the danger. He saw the wooden, silver-lined stake flying towards Lord Leo. He also saw Mash inexplicably laying on the ground. He began a mad dash towards Lord Leo, hoping that he could heroically toss his body in the line of fire and protect him. He ran and ran and ran. However, he too inexplicably fell and clutched his ankle.

Lord Leo appeared doomed. The stake flew closer. However, at that time, Angel De Muerte shouted “Noooooo” and showed his true triple agent colors! Yes, he had tipped off the townsfolk to the vampire attack, but he had also tipped off the vampires that he had tipped off the towns folk to the vampire attack. That’s how they had survived the initial ambush! Apparently, Angel valued his friendship with Lord Leo above all else. He sprinted as fast as he could, intending to valiantly toss his body between the wooden, silver-lined stake and Lord Leo. He sprinted and ran and moved his legs as fast as he could. However, he too fell inexplicably and clutched his knee.

Angel De Muerte, Masher, and Busk writhed on the field in made up agony. The stake flew ever closer to Lord Leo, but in the blink of an eye he sidestepped the stake and made Peppy look like an idiot. For the millionth time. Lord Leo then set his sites on the last hope of the Bernabo Bay: prodigious child of the force Iker Skywalker. He targeted the unsuspecting Iker, prepared to deliver a fatal blow, but then was brutally and savagely taken down from behind by none other than Sergio Han Ramosolo!

This shocks everybody – vampire and aliens and cowboys alike. The night before the big battle, Sergio Han Ramosolo had been all “I’m a cagey bad-ass rebel who is leaving Dodge” and all the cowboys were heartbroken because they thought after all they had experienced that Sergio would have developed bonds of affection. Thus, for Sergio Han Ramosolo to come out of the blue and foul the hell out of Lord Leo was pretty neat. He got a red card for it, but still. 

And then came the end game. The pawns cleared the board and out came the true daggers: Jose Mayorinho vs. Pepator, the preppiest and best dressed Predator ever.They circled. They grunted. Before the day of the battle, they had exchanged obtuse banter and indirect barbs via press conferences. Now it was time to fulfill their word.

Then came a fight scene so awkward, so fully of shitty special effects, that it could easily pass for the end of a Star Wars Prequel. At the end, it turned out that Bernabo Bay was built on top of some sort of pyramid or some crap. Nothing important was resolved. Everybody left, disappointed.

Elliott’s soccer eBook, An Illustrated Guide to Soccer & Spanish, is available on the Amazon Kindle for only $5.99 Check out a free preview here.

And intellectuals. Luckily, last week noted Psychoanalytic scholar Jacques Lacan spread some truth on Manchester United’s record-setting 19th title winning season. Now, we once against seek help from the world of academic all-stars: noted Postmodern educational scholar Paulo Freire gives us a peek at what to expect in the Champions League final.

You are widely credited as one of the fathers of “liberation theology”, summarized as an attempt to return the Catholic Church to a decentralized entity as envisioned in the gospel of the early Church. Will United be able to exploit Barcelona’s centralized reliance on Xavi and Messi?

Liberation theology, before anything else, is an attempt to apply a Marxist lens to Christianity by focusing on the suffering of the poor and their perspective. In this sense, Christ forces us to look at the larger structures of the world to ask – how and why do they create such unequal results? While Messi has scored lots of Barcelona’s goals, one can never underestimate the power of Xavi to fairly redistribute the ball to other teammates. This is the fundamental tension between centralization and decentralization, no?

Some of the key tenets of liberation theology, grass roots meetings and build-up theological interpretation, have been criticized by the current Pope. Will Barcelona’s attempt to slowly build from the back also be repressed by United’s pressure?

Many theological scholars misinterpret the criticisms of then-Cardinal Ratzinger. Rather than tossing the baby out with the bathwater, his concern was that Marxist and political lenses had supplanted, not enhanced, the fundamental message of the Bible: Jesus’ love and sacrifice for humanity, and our own potential to attempt to imitate this act. As such, Barcelona’s intricate buildup will surely face an initial wave of pressure from the light-footed Chicharito and tireless Park Ji-Sung. However, we cannot conflate such specific points with the broader picture.

Your obra maestra, “Pedagogy of the Oppressed,” has been summarized in unflattering terms as “Students prefer seminars to lectures – no shit.” Similarly, Barcelona’s approach has been called “Monkey in the middle ’til Messi gets open.” How do you respond to such characterizations?

A superficial and functional observation can always lead to unflattering summaries, even if they do have a shred of accuracy. However, these characterizations reveal a critical eye but a closed heart; only by fully rejecting the “top down/banker deposits knowledge” pedagogy and the “run-and-kick” offense can one accept the amazing power of transformation. On a spiritual level, you must accept this concept before the intellect can follow. Not vice-versa.

Your book “the Pedagogy of the Oppressed” has been banned in several totalitarian states, including Arizona (zing). As such, how can we reconcile Sir Alex’s iron-clad clasp on power and United’s success?

Well, for starters, one must clearly define success. Is power alone the definition of success? If so, then some authoritarian states, such as Cuba, must be deemed “success.” However, this is a self-serving criteria. Similarly, oftentimes the iron-clad SAF image and reality diverge. His assistant, Carlos Quieroz, actually runs a large share of United’s day-to-day operations. Also, SAF has shown a democratic and meritocratic approach to players – blooding, developing, and incorporating several different generations over the years. In this sense, SAF has the final say, but the players run the show. Is that not democracy?

Literacy programs for impoverished adults played a large part in both your personal and professional life & development. Do you believe that Barca’s cultured reading of the game gives them a slight edge as compared to United’s counterattacking 4-4-2?

Knowledge and power form a symbiotic bond. One inevitably influences the other. At moments this season, Manchester United has launched counters which go beyond functional literacy to collective telepathy – an understanding and coordination among persons that extends beyond top-down models. However, ultimately, in any society individuals are frightened by their freedom, yet freedom can only be attained by conquest. This is the paradox. We must rightly ask – will fear dominate? Thus, as always, human praxis will rule the day. If one side’s defense fails in its dialogical pursuits, the antidialogical temptation by either Pep or SAF, manifested in a defender for winger/forward sub, could undermine the entire enterprise. And leave them exposed to a counter.

First, this game is all about Cristiano Ronaldo vs. Lionel Messi. Don’t let any encyclopedia fool you. There are not 20 other players on the field at the same time. And who really cares about statistics anyway? Twitter-addicts starved for content? Yes. But definitely nobody by that definition blogs in these parts. So play close attention to the number of touches-per-frustrated-facial-and-or-hand-gestures-per-millisecond of both Ronaldo and Messi. If you cannot find a site with such stats at hand, then get out a pen and paper to keep track yourself. Then, after the game, roll up the piece of paper and eat it. Then douse your neck in gasoline and light yourself on fire. Only you must know the truth.

Second, I have never been worried about Mourinho leaving Madrid. At least not of his own accord. He speaks in double-speak, so his flirtations with Portugal and potshots at Pellegrini reflected his twisted desire to remain in charge. Still, seeing his recent smirk and press conference shenanigans brought a smirk of my own. Mou learned from Manuel’s errors by prioritizing the two competitions not entirely dependent on consistency. Madrid went years without caring about the Copa del Rey, until Mou realized the psychological importance of a potential victory against Barca. Winning the cup is not important, as evidenced by Sergio Ramos’ butter fingers. But penetrating Barca’s air of invincibility proved priceless.

Third, let’s vomit through this topic again. Barcelona has constructed a monopoly of the mind – by repetition, the world accepts their patient (slow) passing based approach as “beautiful.” I find this odd, because US collegiate basketball had a similar “four corner offense” which was so plodding successful it led to the invention of the shot clock. Because of this assumption, Barcelona cannot lose. If they win, it is a victory for slow-possession (read: beautiful) soccer. If they lose, it is because the loser played trash (read: non-slow-possession) soccer. The circularity makes the head spin.

Which leads to point Four. What about defense? Why can’t we construct wonderful images of defense and praise back lines? Are we too far removed from Fabio Cannvaro’s 2006 World Cup Player of the Tournament award? An example. In the 2008 European Cup, Spain played Italy in the knock-out rounds. The two extremes butted heads: Spain would rather connect a ten foot pass than dirty the field with a shot on goal, while Italy would rather defend without the ball than risk a shot on goal. The result was a matador encounter in the plaza de toros where the bull, rather than running into a cape, sat down on a leather sofa, pulled out a pipe, and began to flip through the daily newspaper. Boring for all watching? Yawnerrific yes. But why cry when the bull doesn’t play along?

Fifth, Iniesta. I’m not convinced that the Spaniard’s late “calf injury” isn’t more than a mindtrick and we will see Andres start vs. Madrid. This bothers me. Greatly. Inter in last year’s semis and Germany in the World Cup showed that if you double Messi and push him wide, his effectiveness drops considerably. Meanwhile, Xavi does not need to be rushed, only followed and stood in front of. But Andres has no answer. One cannot grasp mercury. If you press him, he dances around you. If you stand back, he sidefoots a lethal pass forward. Lass has a better chance of grasping mercury than stopping Mr. Sideburns.

Regardless of the outcome, recent wounds have started to heal. If Madrid does not lose 2-6, then Mou has made progress. Soon, we may start to recall the pasillo in the Bernabeu from a few years back. And we can dream of a sprinkler-filled evening at the Nou Camp in a week’s time.

Photo: Reuters

Real Madrid tied Lyon 1-1 in the first match of this away leg. Slightly better than last year under Manuel Pellegrini. I predict that Madrid will advance after either a 0-0 draw or a victory at home.

But that’s not the prediction you should be worried about.

First, I predict Karim Benzma will continue to score goals either against lower teams or as a super-sub off the bench. He will assume the role of Ibrahimovic at Inter under Jose’s reign – the forward who scores the goals Jose needs to win today, but failing to defend or improve his hold-up play. Jose will lose two inches off his hair line, as he fields calls from Jorge Valdano about why Karim doesn’t start. He also will get creeped out by how Perez refuses to acknowledge his existence in public and does not return his phone calls.

In short, Jose will realize he is a rental. Just like Capello. Just like Schuster. Just like Luxemburgo.

Second, his disdain for the Madrid management structure will blind him to the growth and development of Karim as a player. Yes, Benzema will continue to improve at Real, even if his height and weight mean he will never hold off centerbacks like Adebayor. Jose won’t care to notice, instead pleading for his club to sign Fernando Llorente over the summer. Which they might do. Or might not.

Third, Lass will languish on the bench and be hastily sold for less than his market value. Lass will then go on to become a world class holding midfielder, a newfound maturity in passing and patience easily overcoming the decline in his physical stamina. Like Esteban Cambiasso & Claude Makelele before him, he will be the quintessential “holding midfielder bought and sold too young.” Madrid thrives on buying and prematurely selling these types of player. It is essential to the European soccer ecosystem, like algae and/or cow caca. And plankton.

Fourth, Real Madrid will legitimately compete with Barcelona next year. And it will have nothing to do with major signings. Instead, the Copa America will leave Messi gassed, while father time will show himself in the decreased movement and increased injuries to David Villa & Xavi. Jonathan Dos Santos & Bojan will step up to the plate of futile scapegoats, forever discrediting La Masia as a respectable soccer academy.

Fifth, Jose will grow increasingly paranoid. He will have nightmares where a hooded man follows him closely into a dark alleyway, muttering French with a strong Algerian accent. Mourinho will avoid ladders, black cats, and his own shadow, only to realize that his Brutus has been alongside him this whole time: Zinedine Zidane! Et tu Zizou?Qui qui, monseur Mourinho. Okay so my Latin and French suck, but you get the dramatic & climatic idea. Jose has held Zizou close to act as a bodyguard with the media and Perez, but Zizou will appear an ideal candidate to replace him after one year of tutelage.

In that time, Zizou will learn the most important lesson of being a former player coach: bullshit about the history of the club when a few games go off the skids. He will then coach Real Madrid to a stunning Champions League victory, and eventually a heated SuperCopa showdown with Europa league winners Liverpool & King Kenny Dalglish.

Then, and only then, will history eternally bestow a crown of diamonds upon the greatest player-coach of the last three years. And that drunk guy at the pub will never ever shut up about how he told you so….

My original plans for this Premiership preview were quite simple – I would link to Brian who would link to Fredo. Last year, SIATS blew everybody’s collective mind by accurately predicting to the tenth degree every single Premiership fixture and 75% of the Cup thinger-ma-jigger-whatever(s). It was as if Nostradamus had broken the outer lens of the the Hubble telescope, turned it into a peace pipe, and graciously passed around some of that knowledge.

Alas, I am afraid it appears Bedorarrci has drugged the protagonist and I must carry Frodo to the promised land. With help from Kate Perry of course. So here you have it – a Premiership preview in terms of vapid pop songs that plagued the airwaves in the US of A. Or, alternatively, “how to improve mobility and decrease risk of cardiovascular illness your next stay-cation.” Vamos.

When somebody leaves Chelsea for money, you know either the Universe is an ironically just place, or Liverpool is in serious trouble. Or both. Placing Joe Cole behind the striker may make up for his lack of pace due to age & injury, but is Stevie G really the withdrawn drummer to lead the march to the Champions League?

Liverpool is Katy Perry – a disheartening and disturbing transformation. Unlike Perry’s past, which includes being a Christian singer and the profound song title “You’re so gay”, Liverpool were the elite of Europe a few years ago. Yet the credit crunched right when the overextended American owners landed. Forced to play Ngog, Babel, and other Rafa miscues has left Scousers as shallow up front as the lyrics to “California Girls.” Is Joe Cole as cool as Snoop Dawg? Arguably, yes. But a few moments of rapping brilliance won’t be enough.

Meanwhile, Arsenal finds itself in an odd position – the global economic meltdown means that almost every other club is pinching pennies. Will Wenger’s prudent policies make the Gunners the king of the scrooges? Arshavin is rested. Cesc is not in Catalunya. Van Persie learned to play forward effectively without scoring goals. Cesc is not in Catalunya. Nasri looks lively. Cesc is not in Catalunya. Alexander Song looked good in the World Cup. Cesc is not in Catalunya.

The Gunners are Eminem – the rhythm and flow remain the same, but success may return several years later. Arsenal fans love the way Wenger lies, but can the backline break a cycle of dysfunction that makes Slim Shady seem the prudent marriage counselor? Goodbye Gallas was addition by subtraction, but ultimately Abou Diaby will be the next Patrick Vieira, or will be the eternally next next Patrick Vieira.

Up in Manchester, the town has gotten somewhat small with the Blue shirts signing any warm body looking for a wage boost. Nevertheless, Manchester United is BoB. After the Community Shield victory and a stunning return to form last spring, could Paul Scholes sparkle like a shooting star?

Manchester United fans wish that the Glazers had never purchased their beloved club – if a leveraged buyout was a bad idea pre-2009, post stockalypse it is chinese water torture meets time bomb. The last major purchase, Dimitar Berbatov, has yet to show his best form. Every defender but Vidic has a glaring weakness, from O’Shea’s footspeed to Ferdinand’s fitness to Evans’ maturity. Still, Valencia and Nani should wreak havoc on the wings. After last season’s disappointment, can the Red Devils change flight and be back winning titles at the end of the night?

At the other end of town, Manchester City is Talo Cruz. Which is to say, we know nothing about Talo and we know everything about Talo. While Mancini takes to the sidelines wearing his favorite brands, notably a scarf, when faced with adversity, the Blues seem to throw their hands up in the air. Each player is a microcosm of the club – on the verge of world class, but lacking that “it.”

Given the surplus of talents, plus the presence of ever unhappies Carlos Tevez & Emmanuel Adebayor, a stick of dynamite would be less explosive than the Blues’ locker room. Last season Mancini managed the egos, but as ridiculous wages anchor anxious players to Eastlands, the sheer size of the problem may overwhelm the Italian tactician. City came close to the promised land, barely losing out to Spurs for a shot at the European promised land. With Yaya Toure adding balance to midfield alongside Gareth Barry, expectations are higher, but trophies may still be just beyond reach.

In London, Tottenham is Enrigue Iglesias. Before you could always crack a joke and be generally indifferent. Sure, bailamos was a decent song. Yeah, dimelo had a nice beat. But reggaeton? Reggaeton? Whether or not you or I like it, the Spurs will be representing the isles in European club competition. Try not to let the rhythm of your churning stomach take you over.

The European nights will sap precious energy from Tottenham. And the savvy European opposition will pose problems. Gareth Bale will run into three defenders to no avail. Robbie Keane’s finishing and timing will come in handy on occasion, emphasis on on occasion. Wilson Palacio’s typically suspect passing will shift gears to “always suspect.” And Lukas Modric will look like an all-star. He is. Still, as the curse of the Europa league has sabotaged many a season at AstonVilla, expect similar scars for Spurs. Yet you won’t be able to turn your head away from the wreckage.

Chelsea are, of course, Travis McCoy. But here’s the catch – Chelsea really are billionaires. For those unaware, Travis dreams that zeroes and bank accounts will afford luxury and eliminate problems. Err, wrong.

Malouda & Anelka have adapted well to the Premiership, but can they be counted on to not strike at the first rumble of disturbance? Frank Lampard hopefully has seen a hypnotist and draws a blank when asked about the months of June & July. Didier Drogba’s arm does not hide the fact he’ a diver, but surely he will dive more carefully so as to avoid re-injury. The Blues barely edged United at the finish line last season, but the exit of effective subs like Cole, Deco, and Ballack, stretch them too thin.

So, in sum, my prediction for the English Premiership is a top-down corporate structure controlled by elite tastemakers whose decisions behind closed doors determine your preferences by artificially limiting options. In a word, Manchester United.

The typical suspects have overcome group stage difficulties to rise to the top. However, no smoking gun has appeared to point out the single culprit most likely to win the tournament. Using a really big magnifying glass, a trench coat, a smart talking sidekick, and intuition, we embarked on an investigation of the remaining teams in this World Cup quarterfinals, searching for clues in a sea of uncertainty. Our conclusion as to who will win the World Cup?

All signs point to….

Let’s start with the obvious – you knew nothing about Paraguay except that their A closer inspection reveals a side more than capable of holding la furia roja without a goal for 90 minutes. Also, Argentine born – big in Germany -forward Lucas Barrios has proven potent up top, while Oscar Cardozo shined in Portugal this past year. Still, the albiroja would be a long shot for a finals appearance. Thus, they are among the list of secondary suspects – dangerous, but not requiring closer inspection at this time.

As for Uruguay, admit that you knew about Diego Forlan. He had a good season at Atletico de Madrid, scoring clutch goals in their successful Europa league campaign. However, aside from the game against South Africa, he has taken on an accomplice role. Diego is the distraction to the deadly, deceptive, and delightful enrachado Suarez, the Dutch young player of the year who has scored crucial goals this tournament for the charruas.

Despite the  world class striking tandem, depth at midfield poses a problem for Uruguay. Do they have the bodies to pull off a heist of global proportions? Probably not, as a nearly disastrous double yellow in the opening game against France revealed. Thus, the Uruguayans may pose a bigger menace than Ghana, they remain a secondary suspect.

Ghana is better than you thought. Despite the injury to Michael Essien, the seeds of the successful under20 side are blossoming nicely. Even Muntari, a strong role player in Inter’s successful treble winning season, struggles to get minutes. However, a glance at the magnifying glass reveals overly defensive tactics and a team too wet behind the ears. Could they upset Uruguay? It’s a remote possibility. But the semi-finals will probably be a bridge too far for Africa’s last remaining representative.

Now we move onto the primary suspects. The first is obviously Spain. The furia roja edged out a negative Portugal side which lacked any ounce of creativity in midfield. Still, David Villa aside, the Iberians have lacked a cutting edge in the 18 yard box. Despite Fernando Torres’ attempt to conceal his identity via hair color change, his lack of fitness has hindered his contributions. And his athletic and direct approach always stuck out like a sore thumb for Spain.

More troubling is Del Bosque’s overly negative tactics. The Spaniards two holding midfielders, Xabi & Busquets, means that Xavi has limited attacking targets. The lack of movement has been troubling. David Villa’s individual brilliance can probably lead them past Paraguay, but the semi-finals should see the limping Spaniards bounced in convincing fashion. The Spaniards are a primary suspect, but only just barely. Don’t count on finding their prints anywhere near the trophy.

Now, we turn out attentions to the disappearing Dutch. A glance at the roster gives us ample motive to assert Holland as favorites. However, going from paper to people, reasonable doubt creeps in. The Dutch locker room is always volatile, a tempestuous sea of swirling emotions where placid surfaces mask powerful undercurrents. Robin Van Persie’s recent outburst and lingering resentment from a basic free kick at Euro 2008 reveal a group of mean spirited, needy, and insecure professionals.

Up until this point, the Dutch coach has refrained from criticizing his own players, a rarity in the “everybody else is to blame” orange establishment. However, when the going gets tough, when the chips are down, the stylish Dutch 4-3-3 reveals a gaping hollow in the center as wingers complain about a “lack of service” rather than backtracking. Not to mention that this Dutch side has hardly played stylish attacking soccer so far. The orange’s suspect back line will haunt them against Brazil, in a closely contested affair more akin to involuntary manslaughter than premeditated murder.

Argentina has scored goals by the bucket, shielding an aging and lead footed back line. Javier Mascherano, aided by either Veron or Maxi, has worked tirelessly to feed the three striker attack while provided cover for Heinze and Demichelis. But will Di Maria provide enough width against a well organized German defense?

The bi-polar Diego gives both reasons to both suspect and discount the Argentinians. On the one hand, he has a happy locker room and confident group of attackers. On the other, he has failed to show the capacity to make an astute tactical substitution to turn a game in the albiceleste‘s favor. The young Mueller and speedy Podolski may reveal the wear and tear on the defensive tires, but no team with Leo Messi and the in-form Tevez & Higuain can be dismissed out of hand. Expect a breathtaking quarterfinal, with the Argentines willing to attack, and the counterattacking Germans inviting them forward. Who will win? That would be more guesswork then detective work. A coin toss.

You can never underestimate the Germans. Never. Just when you figure the old guard has advanced into the sunset, a group of young and sprightly blonds, tall as an oak, sprint by your wingbacks and outjump your centerbacks. The biggest cause for concern, and suspicion, is the Turkish central playmaker.

Mesut Ozil’s ascent has been meteoric. June 29 of last year, he led the Under 20 side to a 4-0 thrashing of England. And this summer? Just a 4-1 drubbing in the World Cup. With the tireless Schweinsteiger in midfield, the ageless Klose occupying defenders, and the fearless Podolski out wide, Ozil offers a touch, vision, and reading of the game rarely seen in Deutschland. He is a primary suspect and must be watched closely, along with the rest of his German cohorts.

The primary suspect is the typical suspect is the usual suspect. Brazil. However, this Brazil wears gloves, a mask, dusts its own prints, and leaves no trace of impressive success in its wake. Not wanting to leave behind a shell, a bullet, or any other clue, the Brazilians prefer a much simpler, less noisy, and less messy manner of murder: asphyxiation.

Gilberto and Felipe Melo slowly wrap their paws around the game, patiently passing the ball with Lucio and waiting for a moment of weakness. All your intuition and instincts point to Brazil, yet no smoking guns appears. You blink your eye, and a first touch combination by Kaka, Elano, and Luis Fabiano leaves another talented side dead in the water. You blink a second time, and Robinho has just turned his defender and sidestepped a centerback, setting up Corrales for a tap-in.

And then they go back to pedestrian passing, a five foot pass backwards to a defender, a ten foot pass sideways to another, as if nothing had happened. You scratch your head in bewilderment, unsure of what you’ve just seen but uneasy all the less.

Uruguay vs. South Korea

I’ve underestimated Uruguay throughout this tournament, and I see no reason to stop now.  South Korea squeaks by in PKs.

USA vs. Ghana

Is it too early to call USA the Cinderella story of the tournament?  Two big crunch-time wins have given them at least even odds to make the Semifinals.  Jozy gets on the scoreboard today, and the USA sends the last African team packing.

Germany vs. England

It’s good for the US to be on the other side of this bracket.  Germany hasn’t been great at this World Cup, but England has been worse.  Germany in PKs.

Argentina vs. Mexico

El Tri will give the Argentinians a bit more than they expect–remember, Argentina hasn’t exactly had a top-flight opponent yet.  But the Argentinians have figured out how to score in a World Cup that has been lacking goals.  Argentina get a scare, but scrape this one out.

Netherlands vs. Slovakia

Yet another top flight team that hasn’t yet gotten a major challenge.  I’m pause to jump on the “Netherlands will finally win” bandwagon until I see them against a top 10 team.  Slovakia isn’t that team, but look at who’s up next after the Netherlands get through in a close match.

Brazil vs. Chile

It’s become pretty clear that Chile isn’t used to playing on a stage this big.  They controlled the game early vs. Spain but after conceding a goal deciding stabbing at the legs of opposing players would be enough victory for them.  Chile has racked up, by my rough count, 211 yellow cards and will be missing all 11 starters and 3 subs.  Brazil moves on, despite another threatening first 15 minutes by Chile.

Paraguay vs. Japan

Borrrring.  Paraguay tied an awful Italian team, beat Slovakia, and held onto a draw with the New Zealand All Blacks…or is it All Whites today?  I don’t know.  This somehow got them into the Round of 16.  Japan’s quickness eats them up.

Spain vs. Portugal

Spain get the matchup they want.  Right?  Maybe?  Aside from their 7 goal explosion against North Korea, Portugal have not looked exceptional this tournament.  Spain seem to have regained their footing, even if Torres is doing his best Emile Heskey impersonation.  But Spain have regained their footing against moderate opposition, and still only managed two goals against 10-man Chile last night.  This one goes to PKs.  Spain moves on.

We could resurrect the Mourinho as “dark lord,” a tactician who will win at all costs. But that leads to the next question – where will Mourinho be next summer?

If Perez signed Kaka & Ronaldo in part because their namesake sold jerseys, then what attire would Mourinho promote upon arrival? A dark and long coat? A Russian journalist offered Jose a crown, but the Portuguese astutely refused the obvious photo shoot setup. Still, how would the sly and sarcastic boy from Iberia fare in Madrid?

Well, the negative tactics…the negative tactics just do not fly in Spain. While the Italian media may dissect his every substitution and grant a standing ovation to a 1-0 victory, the cerebral fades into the aesthetic exterior in Spain. To win in Madrid is not enough – just ask Del Bosque and Fabio Capello.

Pellegrini led Madrid to a record breaking season in La Liga. Still, in a sense, his positive football undid the blanquillos in the Champions League. A compact and counterattacking Lyon took advantage of the galloping fullbacks, nicking a counter and then absorbing pressure. The Pellegrini approach can be described as Sven-lite: calm, composed, and always in control. At least of himself.

How would the Madrid press react to a 1-0 loss in the Camp Nou when Barcelona had over 70% of possession? Would Marca and AS take kindly to parking an airplane in front of Casillas? Mourinho’s defensiveness in press conferences belies his disdain for positive futbol purists. But can his ethos of “success at any cost” coexist on the same plan as Perez’s flashy “high costs equal success”?

And then there is the game, of course. Many Azulgrana faithful and PSV fans will recall Mark Van Bommel. The Dutchman is capable of a brilliant through ball spells of sharp possession, and totally disappearing for spells. Schweinsteger, to his credit, has adapted well to playing centrally. But can these two go toe-to-toe with Real rejects Cambiasso and Scheijder?

Robben, of course, has shown why he holds the label as World’s Best Player Made of Paper – when the injections reduce the swelling in his tendinitis ravaged knees, the Dutchman is unstoppable. But if Maicon diligently marked the elusive Messi, one has to wonder if Robben’s bags of tricks can fool the Brazilian.

So as you watch the game and count the players sold by Real Madrid at bargain prices, as you sweat alongside Pellegrini while Mourinho works his magic, just remember…the two teams playing one another are Bayern Munich and Inter. The merengues will have to wait another year.