(news) For soccer-mad Mexicans, it was bad enough that their team was eliminated from the World Cup. More heartbreaking was the fact that the blow was delivered by the United States, which many Mexicans see as an arrogant, domineering neighbor. "It hurts us here," said Jose Luis Luviano, 21, punching his chest. Tears melted the Mexican flags painted on his cheeks.

I have had enough of these crocodile tears cried by sporting men who wear grief like an ascot scarf. If Jose Luis Luviano was truly sad, he would overturn a car. Now, those Russians, they cared about their soccer team. Any fool who settled for street parking in Moscow that night knows as much. Jose Luis, on the other hand, doth protest too much. Where is his new TV? What has he set on fire? Why will he not deign to participate in the most profound, authentic expressions of grief - and joy - known to our age? For fuck's sake, man, topple a motorbike and then tell me how much you liked your team. Because, otherwise, I ain't hearing it.