I Like Landon Donovan, But I Can’t Hear Landon Donovan
When the United States began their Gold Cup campaign last Saturday I was in a bar. I was there to watch this game, but somewhere around the 30th minute I started to drift. I was like a pass from the American midfield — serenely floating here and there without any purpose or sense of direction.
Dom Dwyer’s opening goal sent the bartender on a rambling ode to Sydney Leroux that lasted until tonight’s match against Nicaragua, a week-long sonnet on unrealized love.