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It hurts to see grown men faking injuries and then pleading their case to referees who might not even speak their language. To see them perform the international signal for disbelief:
One part Home Alone face, open hands grasping both cheeks. One part "I'm watching my house burn down" face, mouth half open, eyebrows sagging to the side.
All of this because the ref pulled a tiny yellow credit card out of his pocket and wrote the guy a ticket.
What's next, Europe? A televised bicycle race through some mountains?
Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner.
Same tennis match on TV.
Lie if you missed it.
Speaking of European dominated sports, yesterday’s Wimbledon men’s final was beyond a classic. It might have become the definition of one.
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