Z/Web

I managed to stay awake through this one. Partly because I got up and had a late supper (soup, of course, since I’m sick), but also because the game was so exciting. Milan was out for revenge, having lost the game at Bologna earlier in the season, and they started off with two cheeky goals against the run of play by Shevchenko. It looked like it was all Milan, and though Bologna had been playing well, they’d given up two goals. Then, late in the first half, Cipriani pushed into the box and forced Italian great Pablo Maldini to foul him. The ref awarded a penalty, and just before the half, it seemed like the idea time to narrow the lead. But the Bologna player missed the penalty kick! So it was still a two-goal lead for Milan. In the second half, however, as the commentators were complimenting Cipriani’s play (this was only his sixth Serie A appearance and his first start), he scored a goal. Scoring a goal in your first start is incredible, and Cipriani was ecstatic. But there was more. In the 75th minute, Cipriani leaped up to intercept a cross, beating Maldini, and caught the ball perfectly with his head. It ricochetted into the net with the force of a kick! Bologna had come back from two down to tie the score! Cipriani was suddenly a Bologna hero. Tears were running down his face as he celebrated his score. Unbelievable to do that your first start. That just doesn’t happen except in books. But Cipriani wasn’t done. As Bologna pressed, he managed to draw a defender away, leaving space for Signori, who put in a third for Bologna. The Bologna bench and fans were mad with joy. This was unheard of, to come to power-house Milan and beat them on their own turf (and hadn’t happened since the 1960s), especially starting the game two goals down. But the joy was pre-mature. Though only seconds remained in the game, a mistake by Olive, substituted just a minute earlier for Locatelli, who’d pulled his hamstring, gave the ball to Sala, who tied the score for Milan. Twenty minutes earlier Bologna would have been delighted with a tie, and Milan crushed, but now it was Milan who breathed a sigh of relief and Bologna who were disappointed to come so close and miss victory. Great game! Final: 3-3.

A slow game, with Bayern forgetting to show up. Unterhaching’s a tough, tenacious team, especially at home. The first half was a nil-nil draw, but in the second, Unterhacking put together a great series of passes which left Spizak open to shoot. He finished beautifully, putting the ball past a diving Oliver Khan. Bayern fought back, but it seemed like destiny was against them this day. Final: 1-0 Unterhaching.

Friday I flew up to Oregon for the three-day weekend. The flight up was delayed for an hour by an “emergency”… the coffee pot was broken (we also didn’t have a pilot, but that was a minor detail). By Sunday I had caught my uncle’s flu, and Monday evening I was not feeling well at all. For some reason my stomach was ridiculously upset. I totally felt like vomiting even before I got on the plane (which was thirty minutes late departing). The flight was hell. I threw up once in the bathroom, and I couldn’t sleep at all. Just miserable. When we finally got near SFO, the pilot came on and said we were going into a holding pattern because of bad weather at SFO they wouldn’t let us land. After thirty minutes of that, they decided to land at Oakland airport instead, as we were running out of fuel. That descent, through a violent rainstorm, was worse than hell. At one point we dropped 20 feet in half-a-second. All the passengers gasped and I saw the people in front of me rise up out of their seats we dropped so fast. If I hadn’t been so sick, I’d have been terrified. As it was, crashing seemed like a pleasant alternative. I don’t really remember the actually touchdown, which occurred a few minutes later, as I had my head in the barf bag. Once we’ve arrived at Oakland, we were told the plane would refuel and in one to three hours we’d head to SFO, once the weather cleared. Well, it was already almost midnight. Waiting for several more hours before I could get to my car and drive two hours home in my condition did not seem like a great plan. And knew positively, absolutely, that I was not going to survive another take-off and landing that night. So I deplaned at Oakland and called my Aunt, who was gracious enough to pick me up and let me stay at her place. On Tuesday she gave me a ride to SFO where I got my car to come home. Now I’m in bed, trying to recover from this flu. I only slept twelve hours yesterday, I think I’ll go back to bed.