Where, Oh Where, was Olé Ray?

Wow--my dvr just served up a steaming pile of awesome! Sevilla stormed into the new year looking like they're ready to put La Liga to the sword after a dismal opening half of the season. The only thing missing was Ray Hudson. It would have been worth suffering the slings and arrows of the outrageous Phil Schoen to hear the Geordie poet laureate of absurdist football commentary sink his fangs into this one. By God, but the "matador footballs" and "magisterials" would have been flying like panties at a Beckham mall-opening (He's opened a mall already, right? If not, he will--give it time, my pets.)

Certainly. Well, at least the right flank was. If not for some wastefulness, Sevilla could have been bypassing the cinqo mark easily. Navas and Dani Alves absolutely tortured Betis with their speed, movement, skill on the ball, and passing. In fact, the dynamic duo on the Sevilla right were what made this match so much fun to watch.

I might even go so far as imperious, nay supernal, hell maybe even downright celestial. Actually, it's probably a good thing Hudson didn't get the call on this one as his tendency towards "arousal" in the presence of excellent futbol might have put Schoen or Lindsey Dean (ouch on the website buddy) in some danger of being accidentally violated.

Matador Football?
What else would you call it? From the opening rounds of savagery and violence, where the tackles flew thick and fast, and the blood flowed, to the bits of lethal skill and sublime artistry as the sorry Betis toro was put out of its misery, it was all on olé-inducing display for hoodlum and connoisseur alike to enjoy.

Sorry for the outburst folks, but sometimes the game gets a bit transcendent and inspiring, as is its wont, and that sort of response just comes welling up unbidden, a surge of magma from my volcanic noggin, as it were. The pretentious nitwittery is now thankfully over--we now return you to your regularly scheduled programming. Olé!

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