NOTE: All conversations between my dad and myself were live and in person; all conversations between Tim and myself were over the telephone; all conversations between myself and myself were held exclusively in my head.

2nd minute: We're looking nervous. Very, very nervous. Settle down boys. Breathe.

5th minute:

Me-Pope on the back line makes me nervous. He's too slow. I don't think he'll be able to stop the attack.

Dad-Our entire back line looks awful. This game is going to end 2-0, Czech Republic.

8th minute (Jan Koller scores):

Me-Are you crying?

Tim-Um, nice one Pope.

Me-I was just telling my dad how nervous Pope makes me.

Tim-Yeah, Koller totally rocked Pope.

25th minute (Claudio Reyna's blaster hits the post, does not go in):

Dad and I are screaming and involuntarily jumping up and down. We suffer minor heartattacks.

Tim-I think I'm going to throw up.

Me-No shiz. I'm quite sure that that shot was our last chance. We're not going to get another opportunity like that. Are you watching the game alone?

Tim-So far. I'm in a random Mexican restaurant.

32 minute: Beasley sucks.

33 minute:

Me-Beas sucks.

Tim-No kidding. I'm so ready for him to be subbed out for my boy (for those who don't know, Tim's boy is Clint Dempsey).

Me-I was ready for him to be subbed the moment I saw he was in the starting line-up.

37th minute (Rosicky scores):

Dad-I'm ready to start drinking.

Halftime:

General consensus-We're sucking. Our first touch sucks. Beas sucks majorly. Donovan, Mastroeni, McBride, and Convey have all disappeared from the match. We need substitutions. Bring on O'Brien and Dempsey!!

46th minute:

Me: Dad says he's ready to start drinking.

Tim: I have to go back to work, but if they score another one I'm going to tell them to start lining up the shots.

Me: Thank god O'Brien is coming in.

47th minute: Wait, did Arena seriously put Johnson in for Cherundolo? Take Beas out immediately!

52nd minute:

Dad-I wonder if the USA realizes that soccer isn't supposed to be entirely played in the air. SETTLE THE BALL.

55th minute:

Me-Beasley sucks.

Dad-If I were the coach I'd pull him off the field and immediately send him on a flight back to America.

61st minute: Johnson has the right idea, but where in the eff is the rest of them team? Where's the leadership?

66th minute: Good god, please don't let them score on us again.

70th minute (Josh Wolff prepares to enter the game):

A drippingly sarcastic Tim: The answer to all our problems is preparing to enter the game.

Me: Why god, why? Where's Dempsey?

74th minute:

Me-Beasley has the absolute worst first touch of any person I've ever seen.

Dad-My high school team plays better than this. Oh yeah and Beas sucks.

78th minute (Rosicky scores again):

Me: This is thoroughly depressing.

Tim: Yeah. I'll call you on the fourth goal.

Depression and embarrasment begin to settle in.

83rd minute: Dave O'Brien needs to shut the hell up. Where's Rob Stone when you need him? Oh my god, did I just wish for Rob Stone? Something is seriously wrong here!

88th minute: For everything good and righteous in this world DO NOT let us give up another goal!!

90th minute: Sweet Jesus. It's over.

Post-game report:

Alexi Lalas gives his depressed and totally embarrased speech. Eric Wynalda is barely restraining his anger. Gives a stern lecture. I half expect him to stand up and begin punching the wall. Julie Foudy looks like a disappointed mother, and there isn't anything worse than a disappointed mother.

Dad is irate. He wants Arena to immediate resign and Beasley to be run off the face of the earth.

I'm wholly depressed and disappointed but am waiting to see the Italy game before passing final judgement.