Just what we needed~Us vs Italia

The evening was not yet done. We took seats near the corner flag as the crowd dispersed. The final whistle long since blown. We discussed what was to be, what must happen for our boys to advance. We laughed at the site of the linesman receiving his beer shower as the cups from disgruntled fans rained down in disapproval of his decisions. Just a sliver of American Hooliganism. Myself, Brett, German and his brother Dani, Clint and some other boys from Ohio; skate and his girlfriend posed for pictures in their E.K. daredevil costumes; together we sat and took the moment in. When from out of the blue a lone figure slinked toward us, ducking behind the end line boards. Eddie Lewis... he popped up and we shared applause. He was thanking us for our devotion. We were all just yanks abroad but we were together in our cause. He began to jog back towards the tunnel when just then, an overzealous member of the stadium security force took notice of someone running across the width of the field. He charged, full sprint towards our man. I watched with anticipation as Eddie had not yet seen the the young bull charging his flank. Other guards took notice and began an intercept mission of their own. Just as I thought we were about to see something truly spectacular... Eddie raised his right hand without breaking stride and said something to the guards at his front. They stopped and immediately looked at the still charging, orange jacketed, saver of the day; arms outstretched with wagging hands the yelled something to him that was inaudible to us. Though I am quite sure it sounded something like trying to clear phlegm from the throat while caught in a fit of sneezing. SuperHerr pulled back on the throttle. Surely there was nothing more to see here, and we went to concessions to return our cups and collect our deposits. They'll sell us more beer?!?!?! Everyone gets 2 and we stand in the empty corridor. As we stood talking, two lone Italians begin to pass, and from the darkness behind me I hear, "There we go." A young American fan streaks out and throws himself at the unsuspecting Italian's feet. He grabs his leg in intense imaginary pain with his girlfriend right behind him, her arms outstretched "OH, OH, What was that? Card, where's the Card!?!?", she cried to an unseen referee! The Italians just walked away with complete bewilderment in their eyes. At this point the guy gets up off the floor, arms above his head,"It's Okay, I'm better now." That was just what we needed. We cleared our noses of beer, and headed out into the night.