World Cup Fever - Final Impressions, A Canadian's View

At the beginning of every World Cup game I'm struck by the colonial influence on each nation's anthem. Western instruments, chorus lines, and structure predominate. There's no rumba, salsa, or cross-rhythm, and that's such a shame, given the diversity among each nation's fans and players. Fortunately, the music at taxi stands, airports, and fan parks weren't restricted to western notions, and, of course, the vuvuzellas made stadiums their own.

I took quite a few bus-taxis and buses to get around from my remote abode. Although people on the bus-taxis were quite friendly, especially when I repeatedly asked Illovo? or some other destination, people on the bus ignored me. I discussed this behaviour with a white South African after, and she attributed it to the fact that a white person on such buses is a rarity, never mind one with an accent. By the way, from what I've gathered South Africans refer to each other as black, white, or coloured (any ethnic mix other than the former two). I struggled with this terminology due to my North American sensibilities, but soon tired of unnecessarily tip-toeing around.

Another sensibility that I lost pretty quickly was pedestrian right-of-way. Drivers gave me courteous beeps, but such notions can be dangerous (I had a few close calls in my jet-lagged stupor). Like Europe, standard transmission dominates the market, so drivers are quite skilled, but the numerous construction projects made navigation difficult. I still can't get over the lack of seat-belt laws. I desperately wanted to fasten a belt around the new-born in the front seat. Although I wanted to stay and try to get tickets for the Brazil/Portugal, which turned out to be rather flat, the time had come for me to go. I made it to Sandton (an up-scale suburb into which a number of downtown businesses fled when the fence came down) and then to the GauTrain.

The train was filled with residents excited by the prospect of travelling at high-speed. They marvelled at the new smell and efficiency, and some claimed superiority to London's tube (not a fair comparison). I was buoyed by their enthusiasm. The driver came on the intercom, introduced herself, and announced we were travelling at 160 km/h. I was one of the few to leave the train; I picked up some last minute souvenirs and made for my gate. I flew Etihad to Abu Dhabi once more. There were many empty seats so I quickly grabbed a middle row, so I could stretch out later. The meal included a chicken tandoori breast and three bean salad and a choice of chicken tikka, grilled hake or penne in cream sauce. Then I slept. No movies needed on this leg. No World Cup on a single TV in the airport. What's with this place?

After a drowsy day in Frankfurt I boarded a Swiss Air flight to Zurich. The stewardess had a topless picture of Drogba on her serving station and defended her choice, stating that he was her motivation. Swiss chocolate and a great Duty Free catalogue made their low take-off-and-landing priority bearable. I then flew Swiss Air to Montreal. The service, chocolate, and Movenpick ice cream was excellent, but the entertainment system ran on a rotation so you couldn't watch what you wanted when you wanted. The kicker, however, came when I boarded an Air Canada plane and paid $7 for a stale wrap.

Canada really needs to welcome its citizens. Rather than calculating potential tax revenue, citizens shouldn't have to fill out forms or stand in a general line. Where's the Canadian Passports line? It's as rare as a default choice of "Canada" on a Canadian website form. Anyway, I'm back; nearly over 29 hours in the air and nearly acclimatized to Victoria's poky drivers.

World Cup Fever - Argentina Game, A Canadian's View

For the game, Argentina vs. South Korea, I had incredible seats very close to the field and not far from the goal. I saw three of the five cumulative goals. Messi appears even faster in person than on TV. It's too bad he didn't score, but his goal setup was invaluable. The crowd roared most, even overcoming the vuvuzellas's drone, when Maradona tapped the ball.

The only drawback was the belligerent Americans behind me; however, one benefit of their loudness was their attempt to start a wave. We nearly got one going and had lots of fun. Canadians were there, too; one wore a huge maple-leaf hat and the others were grad students who asked me to fill out a very long survey on the World Cup. They got half their way paid for. Not a bad way to go. I was surprised to find out that the attendance was a few thousand lower than the Holland game.

The park and ride bus service was excellent and got back with enough time to watch the end of the Nigeria game. It's very unfortunate that Nigeria lost on home soil, so to speak. Chris, a Ugandan staying at the same place as I, noted that he's been disappointed with Nigeria since the 90's. After the game I experienced my first brownout, but the power came back in time to watch the Mexico game and power my microwave dinner. One benefit of the darkness was seeing the Southern Cross without artificial light obscuring it. Very beautiful!

As I'm writing this, the patrons of this internet cafe are watching WWE. Western culture's everywhere.

World Cup Fever - Johannesburg Impressions, A Canadian's View

Whenever I travel outside of North America I'm astonished by the grip of western culture. Johannesburg is no exception; a mall culture is particularly strong here. Malls host all the parties and have all the big screens and FIFA centers. They seem to be “the place to go”, much more so even than in North America. Thankfully, there's little evidence of big box stores although the city is car-centered and lacks efficient public transit. Nevertheless, this role's been filled by shuttle taxis which, although intimidating to visitors, seem quite effective. I was surprised at the lack of seatbelt use especially in the case of infants who rest on their mothers' laps in the front seat. There are some traces of the colonial past, the architecture and rusks appearing on aisle markers in grocery stores. Despite all this evidence of western culture many things set this city apart.

• Some malls contain flea markets. Only a few are heated.

• Entertaining store names and slogans:

Pick n Pay (As opposed to Pick n Run?) Their by-line, “Inspired by you,” has little to do with their brand.

Mr. Delivery for pizza.

Clicks Pharmacy: Clicks Clubcard. Saving is the point.

• Fences. Electric, concrete, and steel. Every structure is well fortified. Perhaps the most striking example is the university whose fortifications seem to contravene tenants of higher learning, such as openness and right to protest.
• BP appears to be doing quite well and has been running ads promoting their non-Fair Trade coffee.
• No headphones on people. People spend time at bus stops in conversation.
• Noises, of so many kinds, fill the air. Drivers toot horns to alert pedestrians who have no right of way here. Vuvuzellas fill the air, especially when South Africa is playing, then they begin at dawn and last until dusk.

People here are very friendly and most are quite excited to meet a Canadian. They ask many questions about Canada. Some, assuming I'm a white local have even asked me for directions. I've spent the most time speaking with Victor, the caretaker and my host, Alima. Victor is from Malawi and is working here to support his family back home. He's hoping to start an IT business here or a kindergarten back in Malawi. If anyone knows of some free school supplies, let me know.

Alima is fiery, passionate, and very kind. She addresses every black South African as brother or sister. They have a really cool culture which blinds the visitor to all the uncompleted projects, delays, bus strikes, leaky taps and lack of recycling.

A note on security: Although security is a major concern here, I've not felt threatened once. (I walk or taxi everywhere.) I have, however, felt a certain fear in the air, heard conversations about car-jacking, and seen reports of home invasions. This is enough to restrict my travel at night to well-worn routes.

World Cup Fever - FIFA Critique, A Canadian's View

At first glance the FIFA ticketing process seemed quite robust. I entered my choices in the first round of the lottery, was billed a few months later, and received an email notifying me that I'd purchased tickets a month or so after that. The trouble began when I tried to determine what matches I was seeing, in order to arrange all the necessary travel arrangements. My FIFA on-line account contained no information about the tickets I'd purchased. All that was there were FIFA bingo and fantasy football. No comparison to the VANOC site, which I'd used a few months before. I was informed that I'd receive a ticket confirmation in the mail by May 1st, which was extended to the middle of May. I emailed and got no response, I phoned and never got an agent. Eventually, I did receive the confirmation and was very pleased with my tickets, but the process was very stressful.

Note: After talking to a number of fans, some shared my experience, and it appeared to be restricted to the first two rounds of ticket sales.

Upon arrival at 5:00 am I learned that the automatic booths at the airport (a major ticket collection location) were closed outside of business hours. Imagine if ABMs were closed outside of a bank's hours. What's the point? Then there was the run-around I received prior to my first match. Only one private security guard knew where to pick up tickets. He told me that fans were in tears at the opening game, believing that they wouldn't be able to enter the stadium.

The name and passport number that I'd entered for me and a guest was not checked; furthermore, all the tickets had only my name on it. So much for all the rules on security and application forms to trade or sell tickets. FIFA created a convoluted system, required people to adhere to it and then abandoned it.

Once inside the arena everything ran smoothly and there was a surplus of information volunteers. The match was an incredible experience, but FIFA has to do much better in this modern age. Maybe that day will come when some form of television replay gets incorporated into the officiating.

I am surprised that empty seats have been shown on TV. Apparently in 2002 buses went into the Asian countryside to get spectators to fill seats. The only deception here was the 1,000 or so Chinese actors at the North Korean game.

On a separate note, SABC provides local commentary for all the African nation matches, which provides a different take on the game that I quite enjoy.

World Cup Fever - The Holland Game, A Canadian's View

I'm sitting here in a South African house huddled around a space-heater while the weather forecaster states that it will go down to minus 3 tonight and that snow has fallen in some parts of the country. I notice that the forecaster uses clucks in her speech and that the kids in a snowball fight behind her must be a rare sight. Two days ago, I was in the same seat when Daf, attired in a bright orange suit, came through the front door with Marcel on his heels. These were the house-guests I was expecting, but had no idea they would be Dutch fans. I was there to support Holland, so was quite happy. The orange clad Blues Brothers set to decorating a house that had only sported a few South Africa flags.

The next morning everyone was quite excited about the game and dressed in their finest orange. Daf was kind enough to give me a cool hat with red, white, and blue dinosaur spines across the top. Chantal, Daf's girlfriend had arrived in the night and soon some other fans showed up. We got a ride to the stadium in threes. About 2km from the stadium we got out of the car to walk due to the congestion. Every three cars we passed cheered, clapped or honked. As the enormous calabash stadium drew near people started to ask if they could get their picture taken with Marcel and Daf, and sometimes all of us.

Then began an extremely frustrating time of tracking down my tickets. Volunteers were either uninformed or misinformed; furthermore they were too few in number. We finally found someone who knew where we needed to go and escorted us there. We entered the stadium to find the Dutch party. Holland supporters usually party in a city square before the game and then follow a double-decker bus to the stadium, but here, likely due to the remote location of the stadium and security concerns, the party was inside the stadium. We sang songs, danced, drank, chanted, and cheered. Marcel and Daf gave a number of interviews, and I gave one. I was assured by the reporter that it would appear here.

My seats were pretty good and the vuvuzelas not nearly as loud as I'd thought they'd be (I still wore earplugs). All around me were jubilant when the Netherlands' side scored a goal rather than winning by an own-goal. Many after were not too impressed by the Dutch side, but everyone concluded that it's better to start a little slower than come out blazing and lose to the likes of Russia and Portugal. Robbyn's appearance when they need him should also add a huge flame to the fire. Hup Holland Hup.

World Cup Fever, A Canadian's View

My trip began in a dull dreary Vancouver. Calgary was even wetter during the six hour transit, so wet that the roofs were leaking. Buckets marked by placards collected the drops. Frankfurt was very warm 29, by comparison and muggy. After a day there I boarded a plane for Abu Dhabi. I had an emergency exit seat, which soon became vibrant with conversation. I talked with the two German guys on either side and the Slovakian stewardess in front.

When the plane landed one German and I sought out a screen to see the highlights of the first World Cup game. We could find none. They had TVs, but they showed volleyball and car racing. No soccer to be had. I asked an information steward and he mistook my request of “football” as “food court”. Not impressed, especially because the stewardess had told me of how many fans have been funnelling through the airport.

I'd rank the airports as follows (1=little effort; 2=some effort; 3=noticeable effort; and so on) Vancouver as a 3, Calgary a 2, Frankfurt a 3, and Abu Dhabi as a 1. Johannesburg, of course, was filled with welcome posters, red carpets for players, but what really set it apart was the multi-clad fans and horns, drums and chants.

The environment in Jo'burg airport is quite playful with announcers proclaiming that smokers violating the non-smoking policy will be banned from football games. On the last leg I got my first run in with England fans. My neighbour took up much more space than his small body would seem to be possible. He preempted the flight attendants' questions, slurring out “Lager” and “Bir”. I re pronounced his request and he got his beer. He must have had a prostrate condition, and if he does I have sympathy for him, because he went to the bathroom twice for every beer he consumed. Quite a different experience than the last flight.

What I learned at the Vancouver Olympics.

After a number of sun-filled glorious days at the Olympic games I thought I’d summarize my experience. Sorry about the lack of tweets but Internet wasn’t that accessible where I was staying.

1. The crowd in Vancouver is awesome. Far from an unruly mob the crowd propelled and energized athletes and made mundane tasks, such as queueing, fun. Without a doubt the most powerful crowd was that at the Canada-US hockey game on Sunday. Only high-fives and embraces tempered the ear-splitting roar. Personally, I was at my best when some American fans in the next section started chanting, “U-S-A.” I promptly responded with my loudest “GoCanadaGo” rousing those around me to drown them out. Despite the loss it was the best hockey game I’ve ever been to, mostly due to the crowd.









2. Translink stepped up to provide fast-efficient service. (Despite my reservations surrounding Translink’s paving of the Whistler rail line and media reports of long waits.)


3. Events were were on-time, exciting, and well organized. The awesome volunteers and entertainers dimmed inconveniences such as security waits and the bottleneck at the pedestrian walkway into Canada Hockey Place.


4. The pavilions were neither well-organized nor on-time, but exciting for the most part (Ontario’s 4–D movie and First Nations Pavilion’s daily sampler platter were my favourites). The largest lacuna was in web presence (the official site has no map and speaks in terms of the facilities “upon completion will have … .”) The best information on the web, though not easy to come by via Google (a lady in line showed me a print out), is at CityCaucus. Furthermore, no comprehensive schedule of entertainment seems to exist.


5. Vancouver rocks when it’s sunny.


6. The Olympics are magical; at least, they contain many magical moments. The most captivating for me (and my family) happened watching Virtue and Moir’s final skate. We had watched them live during the compulsory skate at the PNE, so we were quite enthused about the sport. Then we started watching the final round on TV, but had to leave part-way to catch the ferry. We got to Tsawwassen as fast as we could and ran into the terminal in search of a TV. We found a small (but vigorous) crowd huddled around the sole TV. Everyone clapped, cheered, and (some) cried, while our collective anticipation over the performance and score was quickened by the imminent message that boarding would ensue. Community. Magic. The Games.

Sennasational

The news that Bruno Senna was testing with Honda, stirred up many emotions: loss, grief, and the inspiration of greatness. I watched once again the tragic footage of his uncle's death and various tribute videos, the best being this one:



Don't be put off by the opening text; this is a great tribute. The film opens with coverage of Ayrton in his car just before his last race, then spends some time on the crash itself, before flashing through highlights of his career. It's obvious from his demeanour and accomplishments that he was a great man, but the moment that encapsulates him best, I think, is when he pulls his car over in the middle of the race, gets out, runs to Eric Comas' car and presses the kill switch to put out the fire. The film ends with Senna's victory shouts at the 1991 Brazilian Grand Prix in which he overcame seemingly insurmountable obstacles and won with only two gears, a task that left him so exhausted he had to be lifted out of the car.

Commenting on his last qualifying session for the 1988 Monaco Grand Prix Ayrton said,

I was already on pole, then by half a second and then one second and I just kept going. Suddenly I was nearly two seconds faster than anybody else, including my team mate with the same car. And suddenly I realised that I was no longer driving the car consciously. I was driving it by a kind of instinct, only I was in a different dimension. It was like I was in a tunnel. Not only the tunnel under the hotel but the whole circuit was a tunnel. I was just going and going, more and more and more and more. I was way over the limit but still able to find even more.

Then suddenly something just kicked me. I kind of woke up and realised that I was in a different atmosphere than you normally are. My immediate reaction was to back off, slow down. I drove slowly back to the pits and I didn't want to go out any more that day. It frightened me because I was well beyond my conscious understanding. It happens rarely but I keep these experiences very much alive inside me because it is something that is important for self-preservation.”

Calzaghe's Conquest

Calzaghe not only conquered Roy Jones, Jr. but he also conquered doubt. He has put the matter to rest: he is great and among the greatest (since the fight his name has been bantered around with Mayweather's). His combination of resilience and controlled fury silenced the early chants of U!S!A! and the ridiculous speculation of the commentators, e.g., their observation that Calzaghe's girlfriend put her hands in the praying position. Beginning in the third round Calzaghe repeatedly taunted Jones by jutting out is forehead, daring him to take a shot and leave an opening. Although Jones did make some incredible punches, like the uppercut in the sixth, he never rattled Calzaghe again. Even with Jones' constant banter Calzaghe still had time to wiggle his hips, run on the spot, and deliver 75 punches a round compared to Jones' 35 to 40. Finally in the eighth round the crowd, perhaps seized by the animal instinct of a potential kill, started to cheer for Calzaghe. I prefer to think that they had realized he was the kind of champion whose greatness transcends nationhood.

NAIG and other delights

A couple of weeks ago I went to the North American Indigenous Games (NAIG); it turned out to be quite a day of abundant flavours. Harvey, a friend from the Tsawout band, my son Iain, and I packed into a van and headed up-island. We got to NAIG and were immediately drawn to the stalls full of handicrafts; in the midst of Harvey's conversations with friends and relatives, we made some good purchases. Our main goal was to price cedar hats, but we only did so half-heartedly, preferring to just admire them, due to their high cost ($250-3,000). Instead, I purchased a wrist band of woven cedar with a clasp made from an Indian Head nickel. We then headed to the food stalls and had Scow bread, salmon and Indian tacos (venison chilli over fry bread and topped with cheese).

After meeting Vince from Hot Springs Cove at a soccer game, we headed back home; on the way we stopped by OrganicFair and were very impressed by their operation. This idyllic setting rewards the visitor for embarking on the circuitous route: I repeatedly thought, I would love to live in a place like this. After walking through rows of lavender reminiscent of Philip Craig's Lavender Fields, we arrived at the store. I looked forward to trying some more of their offerings after my previous mixed-review. The Kashmir and Maple Leaf bars were good but not great; their flavours clashed with one another. However, the lemon in Little Italy perfectly complemented the espresso chunks and chocolate, bellissimo! I was pleased with their Sinfully Spiced Coffee, and reminded of Fusion's Focus Blend . Unfortunately, they were out of Hedonist Hot Chocolate, but their homemade strawberry ice cream was excellent.

After getting into Victoria, we dropped my son off at home and went to Cafe Marrakech (2551 Quadra) for dinner. As soon as I walked in and had to engage the hostess, I suspected that the service would be bad. Shortly after our arrival, my suspicion was confirmed by the abrupt departure of a couple after the hostess/waitress got their order wrong; actually it wasn't that abrupt because she took five minutes to process the transaction for their appetizers. Hopefully some better staff will have been hired because the food was excellent. We started with salads, but it wasn't until the main course that things got interesting. I had Bestella Moroccan, two pies made of shredded chicken; each pie was the shape of a hockey puck and twice the size. The chicken was encased in crisp layers of a pastry similar to phyllo, and topped with cinnamon and sugar; the resultant combination of salt and sweet was rich and distinctive. Harvey had a lamb couscous, which looked good.

Then we buzzed down to the IMAX to watch Shine a Light. The sixty foot images and excellent sound left me applauding a couple of times; however, I stopped in embarrassment as soon as my rational brain realized I was in a movie theatre.

Olympic Glory

Although I was buoyed by the success of South Island athletes (six of Canada's 18 medals) at the Olympics, I was disappointed by Canada's overall performance relative to other countries of our size. How come we can never touch Australia, a smaller country in population (two-thirds of ours) with over twice as many medals, and only just beat countries, such as Holland who have half our population? (They actually ranked higher due to a greater number of gold medals). In the Winter Olympics countries such as Austria, a third of our population, are our nemesis. The coverage by CBC however, did not disappoint. The live video on their website was excellent offering versions with or without the commentary, and highlights were easy to find in the On Demand Video tab. Watching without the commentary was frequently illuminating as you could clearly hear the advice of coaches during a match, though it could get annoying with the repeated chanting of U-S-A. The ability to choose what event you wish to watch live and switch between them was very handy. I sure didn't miss cable this time around.

Orange Onslaught

After Holland's flawless entry into the World Cup and their dirty defeat by Portugal in the 16, much has been expected from this young squad of van Basten's design. Commentator after commentator has remarked on KNVB talent and their need for only experience. This team has matured since that ugly game and learnt from their mistakes. It was awesome to see such confidence in the team and van Basten getting along well-enough with van Nistelrooy. The 3-0 score was representative of Holland's dominance and abated any question on the significance of the first off-side goal. Normally I watch Holland's games with trepidation at the edge of my seat, and although it wasn't till the third goal that this abated, I have never been filled with such jubilation since the 80's. The dominance of their accurate passing punished the Italian side and van der Sar was there to mop up the few mistakes made by the competent and confident Dutch side. I hope their mental toughness and confidence to rush the other side continues against France.

Shralpawesomeness

Shralp's snow and surf video-casts not only consistently provide good coverage/footage of the various circuits and competitions but also do so in a fun and polished manner. Besides the great editing, they incorporate a wide variety of funky soundtracks. Watching them' s also a good way to get a first look at new trailers/teasers and short films; a new favourite with my family is Gnar Wars:



Some of my past favourites have been Purple Yeahh (the artwork of Christian Nuenschwander stands out and the reel-to-reel tape is cool), In Short (the back country footage of Alaska is great), 1st place Jib-Vid winner (remote control snowboarder with girly legs), and Teenage Love Graffiti (the graphics in the intro are awesome as is the rail to foam mattress trick and cutting of icicles). The video-casts come in a variety of formats, for phones, X-Box, et cetera; it looks especially sharp on my PSP.

Shame

Today, I went through the pain of watching Holland versus Portugal. It was painful to watch due to endless dirty play, cautions and red cards, and the fact that the Dutch brought shame upon themselves because they did not redeem the mistakes they made: Cocu who passed when he was in the penalty zone rather than shooting came closest to redemption when he hit the crossbar (see what happens when you shoot, the ball actually goes near the net). Robben said he could play much better when he played against Serbia. Where was he today? I know he was double teamed, but come on! Kuyt passed rather than shot and then when his chance came he kicked the ball right into the goalie rather than going around the goalie or shooting up high. Van Persie and later Van der Vaart were the only players that seemed to get the urgency of this game : elimination. Delivery has been a common problem among the Dutch this round (I talked about the heart-attacks they caused me by not scoring insurance goals, previously). They have very few finishers. The good news is that their finishers are young and I look forward to great things from van Persie, especially. I just hope that he stays out of Holland until the next World Cup so no one can convince him it is better to pass rather than shoot when you are in the penalty zone. Portugal deserved to win despite all their dirty work and if it weren't for Van der Sar the score would be even worse. Hopefully for Holland someone will be able to fill his shoes for the next World Cup (if they qualify). Until redemption it's sackcloth and ashes and lots of hard work.

Football Poetry

Well, Spain came back, but there is still a chance for Tunisia if they can beat the Ukraine by two goals. The compilation The Beautiful Game in National Geographic (June 2006) really pumped me up for the World Cup. The map is awesome, especially the chart that shows that 218 million watched the Final in 2002 compared to 127 million for the opening ceremony of the 2004 Olympics and to 95 million for the 2004 Super Bowl. Given my interest in the Classics I particularly enjoyed Robert Coover's article Morality Play: Soccer as Theatre:

The explanations advanced for soccer's intense mysterious power, the trancelike quality of great matches, its worldwide domination over all other sports, have been many...Soccer has often been compared to Greek Tragedy, or seen as a kind of open-ended morality play. Perhaps the difficulty in scoring...intensifies this sense of theatre, causing the denouement--or collective catharsis--to be withheld almost always until the final whistle.

I hope to read some more of Coover's works in the future (on the web version of the article he supplies an article on Spain).

Fever

Renovations and upkeep have filled my waking hours lately, so it has been a while since I blogged. I have run the gamut of emotions watching the World Cup Finals : despair, anxiety and elation. My genetic makeup comprises of 50 percent Dutch (25 percent Dutch-born, 25 percent Chinese immigrant) and 50 percent Scottish. Since China and Scotland never make it to the Finals, the Netherlands is my team. Now I mostly watch games feeding and distracting my two year-old daughter to keep her away from the TV. I used to visit Holland quite regularly as a child and recall the severity of punishment if my brother or I breathed too loud during a game. Now, when I watch Holland I hardly breathe, since they never score that insurance goal and give their opponents too many chances during the last 15 minutes of play when their chances of scoring would be slim. Whew! I will be even tenser on Wednesday when they play Argentina, who has just come off a 6 goal win against a team that Holland only scored one goal against. So far, the FIFA rankings do not match performance, since the Czechs lost and both Holland and Brazil have not played to their potential (the top 3 rated teams).

I am very excited about the remaining 3 African teams that have a chance to proceed. Tunisia is ahead 1 to nil right now (Joga Companion Rules!!) against Spain and a victory today will help them greatly. Ghana has the best chance; if they can beat the USA by more than one goal they will proceed, due to Italy's poor performance yesterday. If Mexico loses against Portugal, a possibility, and Angola defeats Iran, a high probability, then they will proceed. That would be awesome for a team that just earned their first World Cup Finals point by holding Mexico to no goals.