As the USMNT congregates ahead of the much anticipated World Cup Qualifier against Mexico, Bob Bradley is surely exhausting all resources to ensure his side is as prepared as possible. The following is a fictional account of one such prep session.

Bob Bradley stares out on the practice pitch in Columbus, OH. His team files out of the locker room and stands before him.

Bob: Alright, men. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how big this match is and what it means.

M. Bradley: AAAAHHHH THIS GAME IS SO HUGE!!!!!

Bob: Calm down, Michael. Try not to get yourself too worked up. We’ve got to focus here.

Michael Bradley stabs himself in the leg.

M. Bradley: AHHH!!! OK I THINK I’M GOOD NOW!!!

Bob: Alright, now, as you guys know, we have Jose Francisco Torres here with us and since he plays for Pachuca in the Mexican First Division, he gets to see a lot of these guys we’ll be facing on a regular basis. So, I thought it would be beneficial if we had Jose give us a little insight on our opponents. Jose?

Jose Francisco Torres steps forward.

Torres: (opens mouth to speak, but…)

Freddy Adu jumps out like a crazed leprechaun.

Adu: This is bullspit! I know more about these guys than this munchkin! Respect The Adu! American Pele!

Bob: Freddy, I’m gonna have to disagree with you there. Jose plays against a lot of them regularly–

Adu: And I’ve been sitting on the bench at Monaco for like nine gazillion months! What the funk you think I’ve been doing with that time? You can only watch RV staring Robin Williams and JoJo so many times, fool! I used to date JoJo! And I know all about Oswaldo Sanchez!

Bob: Ok, what can you share with us, Freddy?

Adu: Allow me to demonstrate…Jozy, get your punk butt over here! You’re gonna be Oswaldo and I’ll be American Pele.

Jozy Altidore cautiously gets closer to Adu.

Altidore: Hi, Coach Bob. How are you doing?

Bob: I’m still fine, Jozy. You’ve already asked me that a few times today. How are you?

Altidore: I’m goo–

Adu delivers a Chuck Norris style kick to Jozy’s midsection, causing Jozy to double over in pain.

Altidore: Ugh, I’m good, Coach Bob.

Adu: American Pele! Kick him in the gut! That turdspiker won’t never get up!

Bob: Ok, we’re not going to do that, Freddy. I know this is a strong rivalry, but we need to respect our opponents, right Jose?

Torres: (opens his mouth to speak, but…)

Brian Ching, falls to the center of the group. His nose starts to bleed.

Ching: I have a plan, coach.

Bob: I don’t think bleeding on them isn’t a very good idea, either Brian.

Ching: No, that’s only the first part. The second part is that we make them think we’re talentless wastes of space for a while and then, out of nowhere, we make an amazing move to setup a goal for Sacha Kljestan.

Bob: Interesting. Well, I don’t know about that, but I would still like to hear what Jose has to say. Jose?

Torres: (opens his mouth to speak, but…)

Freddy Adu kicks Jose Francisco Torres in the stomach.

Adu: American Pele! Kick you in the gut!

Bob: Freddy! That’s enough! Now, why are you even here — I didn’t call you in for this match.

Adu: This is bullspit! I’m gonna go hang out with Kenny Cooper.

Adu leaves.

M. Bradley: I HAVE AN IDEA AND IT INVOLVES VOODOO AND STABBING!!!!

Bob: No, I know Mexico is going the voodoo doll route, but we don’t need to concern ourselves with that nonsense.

M. Bradley: WHO SAID ANYTHING ABOUT DOLLS??!!?!?

Bob: Enough, guys. Let’s just listen to what insight Jose can provide us and then get a good practice in. Sound good? Ok. Jose, the floor is yours…

Torres: (opens his mouth to speak, but…)

Boca: Uh, I don’t mean to interrupt, but Mexico hasn’t beaten us in like million years at this point. I think all the insight we need is that we’re the better team and all we need to do is play our game. Agreed?

Torres: Agreed.

The following is a fictional account of the US MNT’s Thanksgiving dinner together.

Bob Bradley Stares out over the table. Freddy Adu pounds his knife and fork against the table.

Bradley: Alright, guys. Before we eat, let’s go around the table and say what we’re thankful for. Jozy, why don’t you start.

Altidore: Thanks, Coach Bob. First of all, I’m thankful for my mom and my dad and all my teammates and Villareal and my friend Giuseppe Rossi and puppies and the table and all this great looking food and the chairs —

Adu: I’m thankful for me! Respect The Adu! Gimme a got dang drumstrick!

Bradley: Now, hold on, Freddy, we’ll eat in a minute.

Adu: Respect the drumstick!

Bradley: Brian, what you are thankful for?

Ching: I’m thankful for my helmet and the stickers on my helmet and Kleenex for their ability to clean up my nose bleeds. (nose starts bleeding) oh, there it goes again!

Bradley: Ok, please don’t –

Ching sneezes, shooting blood over the mashed potatoes.

Bradley: Ok, that’s not good, but ok.

Donovan: I’m thankful for Bayern Munich and the fact that Luca Toni hasn’t been banging my wife…yet.

Bradley: Alright. Kenny, how bout you?

Cooper: BRRRRAAAAIIINNNNSSS!!!

Cooper chomps down on an unconscious hobo’s head.

Hejduk: I’mthankfulforespressoImeanno,I’mthankfulformyMLSCup,Imeanno,theespresso–yeah,alltheespresso.I’mgonnadrinksomemore….

Bradley: Ok, guys. Let’s go ahead and dig in before all this gets cold. Who wants the –

Michael Bradley grabs both drumsticks, attacks them with zeal.

M. Bradley: AAHHHHH! I FRIGGIN LOVE THE DRUMSTICKS!!!

Dance music thumps, Danny Szetela dances in, wearing his speedo, chased by Asian security guard.

Szetela: Yeah, bitches — Thanksgiving dance party!

Adu: No! Bullspit! Drumsticks is mine!

Everyone dances. Ching’s nose bleeds until he loses consciousness and passes out, smacking his head against the table.

(Ed. Note — I just got home from a night on the town and wrote this. I’m still pretty drunk. That should explain things. Or not. Whatever. Poop. What time is it? What’s the score here?)

With all the faces we don’t usually see on the team for tomorrow’s match against Guatemala, Bob Bradley has his hands full with guys who aren’t used to the US MNT way of life. The following is a fictional account of how the new guys are getting acclimated to how they do things on the US MNT.

Bob Bradley stares out on the practice pitch. The team congregates behind him. He turns to face them.

Matt Pickens rubs his hands together, clearly way too excited.

Pickens: This is so great, you guys! Since QPR chose not to extend my contract back in May I’ve been waiting for this chance! Well, waiting and making dioramas of every Saved by the Bell episode. Not Good Morning, Miss Bliss or The College Years or The New Class, just the ones with Kelly, Lisa, Zack, Slater, Jessie, and Screech. Oh, and Mr. Belding. Can’t forget Mr. Belding. Hahahahaha! Right, guys? Right? Wow, it’s fun to talk to people again!

Bradley: (ignores Pickens) Alright, everyone. Match is tomorrow, so we have to select our starting XI.

Freddy Adu punches Sean Franklin in the throat.

Franklin: (doubled over, choking) AKKK-KAK! Ow, Freddy what was that for?!

Adu: You don’t start over American Pele! Respect The Adu! Starting XI is mine!

Franklin: (rubbing throat) What? Coach?

Bradley: You better fight back, Sean. This is how we decide who starts — team brawl. Last 11 standing get to take the pitch.

Franklin: But Freddy and me don’t even play the same position!

Jozy gets on all fours behind Franklin, Adu pushes him over Jozy.

Adu: Yeah! You out, fool! Starting XI is mine!

Jozy: Sorry, Sean. My mom always told me not to trick people or hurt them in any way, but Villareal still won’t play me even though I score goals within nine seconds of getting on the pitch and if I don’t get some minutes in an actual game soon I’m going to murder the entire world.

Conor Casey shoves Kenny Cooper, who had been standing off by himself with his eyes closed. Cooper doesn’t move. Casey shoves him again. Cooper opens his eyes, revealing the raging fire that exists where a human soul should be.

Cooper: RRRAAAHHH!!!

The force of his monstrous roar sends half the team into orbit, Conor Casey bursts into flames, earth’s axis shifts.

Adu hides behind Jozy’s ankles. None of the remaining players move so as not to upset the FrankenCooper further.

The locker room door flies open and Brian Ching falls out.

Ching: Hey, guys! Sorry I’m late, but I forgot how to tie my shoes this morning and it took a really long time to remember again!

As Ching walks toward the pitch, his nose begins to spray blood like a high-powered sprinkler system. Everyone runs away, including Cooper.

Ching stands before Bob Bradley, soaking him in the process.

Bradley: Well, Brian. Looks like you start again.

Ching: Hooray! (falls, accidentally scores goal)

US Soccer is holding their annual awards for everything from player achievement to best soccer blog (I’m sure you already know which soccer blogs you’re going to nominate by sending an email to centercircle@ussoccer.org) and as with any awards, some people are taking it very seriously. The following is a fictional account of how a couple members of the US MNT are handling it.

Freddy Adu reads about 2008 Best of US Soccer Awards, slams laptop shut.

Adu: This is bullspit.

Calls Bob Bradley. It rings.

Adu: Answer the phone! I used to date JoJo!

The ringing stops, there’s a fumbling sound.

Bradley: (groggy) Hello?

Adu: This is bullspit! I deserve the awards!

Bradley: What awards? Who is this? It’s…4 in the morning.

Adu: American Pele! Respect The Adu!

Bradley: (sits up) Oh. Hi, Freddy — I told you there’s a time difference between France and America, so you have to be careful when you call… How are you?

Adu: I’m flunkin’ pissed!

Bradley: I know. But if you keep practicing hard, Monaco will start giving you the time you deserves and you’ll get your goals. Just like Jozy. Maybe they’ll even loan you out like Villareal might with Joze.

Adu: Funk that spit, I’m talkin’ about the awards!

Bradley: What awards?

Adu: The 2008 Best of US Soccer Awards! I was readin’ about all this nominatin’ and votin’ spit! That’s poop. Those awards are mine! American Pele! Respect The Adu!

Bradley: Well, like I keep telling you about your playing situation, you just have to be patient, Fred — (call waiting beep) hold on one second, Freddy, I have another call…

Adu: Respec –

Bob switches to the other call.

Bradley: Hello?

Nurse: Hi, this is Nurse Betty at Sisters of Mercy Hospital.

Bradley: Oh God, did Michael stab someone with a cell phone again?

Nurse: Um, no. We have a…Brian Ching in the emergency room here and he has you listed as his emergency contact.

Bradley: Ok, what’s wrong?

Nurse: Well, nothing, really. He wandered in by himself and he was very upset because one of the stickers peeled off his helmet, so he was worried that now it wouldn’t protect him when he falls, which apparently happens quite often.

Bradley: Ok. So why did you call me?

Nurse: Well, he said he had to talk to you and I felt bad for him, so I told him I would. I’m sorry, I know it’s very early in the morning. Here he is –

Ching: Hi, coach!

Bradley: Hi, Brian, how are you?

Ching: I’m good. My helmet broke, but the nurse fixed it for me.

Bradley: Good…so why are you calling?

Ching: Oh! I heard about those US Soccer awards and I think there’s a good chance I will win them because I scored so many goals for the national team!

Bradley: Uh, yes, I guess that could happen.

Ching: That would be cool!

Bradley: Sure.

Nurse: (in the background) Oh my, your nose is bleeding!

Ching: Haha, yeah, it does that sometimes.

Bob Bradley hangs up, goes back to sleep.

Bob Bradley walks into the locker room to find Jozy Altidore injecting Freddy Adu with a butt full of steroids.

Bob: What the hell is going on here?!

Altidore: (smiles) Oh, hey, Coach Bob! How are you?

Bob: I’m good, Jozy, but what do you two think you’re doing?

Adu: Gettin’ big.

Bob: Have you guys lost your minds?! What you’re doing is illegal and could have very serious consequences on both your careers and your bodies!

Adu: Funk yeah, it will. This spit’s gonna make me like seven feet tall. American Peter Crouch! Respect The Adu!

Bob: (flabbergasted) Jozy, I’m especially surprised at you. I thought you’d know better than this.

Altidore: (shrugs, still eye level with Adu’s ass) Sorry, Coach Bob. But Freddy and I still aren’t getting anything but garbage time at our clubs. We try real hard in training and stuff, but we’re still getting left on the bench. Seems like for no reason, too. So we thought we’d try this…you’re not gonna tell my mom are you?

Bob: Well, I understand your frustration, guys, but this is not the way to go about things. Where did you get this stuff anyway?

Jozy and Freddy exchange a quick glance, look away from Bob.

Bob: Come on, guys….who gave you this stuff!?

Michael Bradley crashes through the wall.

M. Bradley: STAAAAAAAAAAAAB!

Bob: Michael! Did you take the steroids? Tell me you didn’t take the steroids! ‘Roid rage combined with your natural rage would produce a lethal mix!

M. Bradley: UH I DON’T FEEL SO GOOD


Michael Bradley explodes.

Bob: See? Now do you boys see why steroids are bad for you?

Adu: The funk you talkin’ about? If I blow up in training one day everybody’s finally gonna notice The Adu and know I ain’t playin’. Got dang, Coach. You’re kinda dumb for a coach.

Altidore: He’s got a point, Coach Bob.

Brian Ching walks through busted wall, slips on Michael Bradley goo.

Ching: Whoa! I wasn’t gonna practice my falls ‘till later hahehahehahe!

Bob: Uh, hey guys, why don’t you save some of that stuff for Brian here…

Ching: (smiles vacantly) What, does that stuff cure nose bleeds?

Ching falls again even though he’s already on the ground…his nose bleeds spontaneously.

Meanwhile, Jose Canseco sits before a room full of empty chairs in Murray’s Used Book Depot in a strip mall outside of Toledo, OH.

Canseco: And that’s how I saved soccer. The end.

He smiles, holds up book to empty room.

Freddy Adu and Jozy Altidore play FIFA 09 in the locker room. Jozy (playing as Villarreal) is up 7-0 on Freddy (playing as Houston Dynamo) at halftime.

Adu: This is bullspit.

Altidore: Sorry, man. I think they made me too good in this game. I’ve never scored seven goals in one half all by myself in real life. Maybe I should call and let them know they’ve made a mistake.

Freddy spikes his controller in anger.

Adu: This is the last time I listen to funkin’ Bob Bradley! He said play as Dynamo cause Brian Ching is so good and he’ll score assbuckets of goals, but he loses the ball every time I pass to him and his speed rating is -8. This is junk!

Altidore: Calm down, man. Let’s play the second half. I’m sure your luck will turn around.

Freddy picks up his controller and they resume play. Altidore quickly scores another goal with himself to go up 8-0. The goal is somehow credited to Ching.

Adu: Bullspit! Stop cheatin’! You and this game are cheatin’ – I know it! Stop cheatin’! Respect the Adu!

Altidore: Nah, Freddy. I would never cheat you. I learned my lesson about cheating in video games when I was little and my mom caught me playing with GameShark and she said that when you cheat all you do is prove you’re not good enough.

Adu: (chucks controller) Why is Ching’s nose bleeding!?! Is this NHLPA Hockey ’93 in the movie Swingers? His nose is bleeding and he just fell over even though the game is paused! This is bullspit! Flunk you, punk! I used to date JoJo!

Freddy storms out of the locker room. Jozy looks around for someone else to play, dials cell phone.

Altidore: Hey Landon, it’s Jozy Altidore from the US Men’s National Soccer Team. You wanna play me in FIFA online?

Donovan: Not right now, Jozy. I’m playing Manager Mode with Bayern Munich. I transferred myself to them.

Adu: (heard faintly in the distance) American Pele!

Altidore: (to Donovan) Oh yeah? How’s that going?

Donovan: Well, I haven’t gotten myself off the bench yet and the last newspaper headline said that Luca Toni is banging my wife…There really is no place for me in the starting XI there. I think the video game version of me is developing a good chemistry rating with Lukas Podolski, though.

Altidore: That’s cool. Well, I’ll talk to you later, man. Have a good one. (hangs up, looks around)…hey, Danny, wanna play?

Szetela, in his Speedo and bow tie, dances to thumping techno music while the Asian security guard still chases after him.

Altidore: Uh, ok…(spots Michael Bradley punching the wall) Hey, Michael, you wanna play? Wait, why are you here? You’re not on the roster for this match.

Bradley: MY DAD IS THE COACH

Altidore: Yeah, that’s cool. So you wanna play?

Bradley: YES

Bradley sits beside Jozy. He selects Manchester United, Jozy selects Chelsea.

Bradley: I AM SO PUMPED TO PLAY THIS GAME. WHAT BUTTON DO YOU PRESS TO STAB PEOPLE

Bradley immediately draws 22 yellow cards, his entire team gets sent off, match forfeited, PS3 melts.

Bradley: AAAHHHHH THAT ALWAYS HAPPENS!!!

Bob Bradley stares out on the practice pitch. Carlos Bocanegra approaches, wearing his captain’s armband with his street clothes.

Boca: So who are you going with, Bob? Usual suspects?

Bradley: You know, Carlos, we’ve gotten all nine points possible so far, we haven’t allowed a goal in I don’t even know how long, and we really stepped it up in that last match against Trinidad & Tobago. I think it’s time we mix things up a little bit.

Boca: Yeah, ok, I totally agree…but, um, you do remember that Claudio Reyna retired, right?

Bradley: Ah, here come a couple of the new guys now…

Michael Orozco and Danny Szetela jog over, both smiling.

Bradley: Welcome, guys!

Szetela: WHOOOO! NAT TEAM! YEAH!

Szetela rips off his warm-ups, leaving him in nothing but a Speedo and a bow tie. He produces a ghetto blaster, plays thumping dance music, dances like Jesse Spano on too many caffeine pills.

Bradley: Uh, ok…(motions to Asian security guard)

Asian security guard chases the dancing Szetela off the pitch.

Bradley: Ok. I think Danny just needs a timeout for a little bit. Michael, how are you?

Orozco: I’m great, Coach. To be honest, I really didn’t expect your call. After I pretty much sealed the United States’ exit from the Olympics with that red card I got, I figured I was done for.

Bradley: (chuckles) Well, if you just be sure to keep your elbows to yourself, I’m sure you’ll do fine.

Orozco: (elbows Boca in the face) Thanks, Coach!

Boca covers his mouth, doubles over.

Boca: Ow! What the hell, kid?

Orozco: What happened to you? I didn’t do that! I don’t know what you’re talking about! Coach, that wasn’t my elbow!

Bradley: (growing uneasy) Ok, this, uh…

Freddy Adu bursts out from the locker room, dragging Jozy Altidore along in a headlock. Jose Francisco Torres follows behind, looking confused and bewildered.

Adu: This is bullspit!

Bradley: What’s wrong, Freddy? I’m glad you guys made it!

Altidore: Hi, Coach Bob. How are you doing?

Bradley: (bending over to look Jozy in the eye) I’m good, Jozy. Uh, how are you?

Altidore: (winces as Adu tightens his grip) Um. I’m good.

Adu: This turdspiker’s been playin’ on my phone, telling me I got called up to the national team while I’m sitting on the bench in Monaco, busying myself by saying lines from the movie RV starring Robin Williams and JoJo! I used to date JoJo!

Altidore: And I told him that I’m sorry, but that wasn’t me, man. I learned my lesson about prank calls when I was little and my mom caught me calling the old neighbor lady and saying her fridge was running away from her.

Adu: And I told YOU Santa Clause is dead, punk! Respect The Adu! American Pele!

Bradley: Freddy, that wasn’t a joke, that was me. I really did call you up.

Adu: Oh…

Freddy releases Jozy from the headlock. Jozy rubs his neck, smiles.

Adu: (points to Torres) Who’s this munchkin?

Bradley puts his arm around Torres.

Bradley: This, everyone, is Jose Francisco Torres. He passed up an opportunity to join the Mexican national team to play with us. I think he’ll be a tremendous addition to our side.

Torres: (opens mouth to speak, but…)

Brian Ching stumbles out of the locker room, wearing a children’s bike helmet.

Ching: Hey, guys, I’m here!

Bradley: Hey, Brian, glad you made it!

Boca, still covering his face, rolls his eyes.

Ching joins the group, everyone tries to ignore him. His nose starts bleeding spontaneously.

Bradley: Oh, Brian, did Orozco elbow you, too?!

Ching: (smiles, lets nose bleed) No, it just does that sometimes.

Bradley: Any reason?

Ching: The doctor says it’s a symbol of my ineptitude on the pitch and is meant to serve as a reminder of how I have no business being here. Especially if it means I’m standing in the way of young guys like Freddy and Jozy getting some valuable playing time and experience.

Bradley: Interesting. Well, we’re glad you’re here!

The ground shakes…

Adu: What the funk? Who’s shakin’ my earth?

The ground shakes again…Ching falls down.

Ching: (nose still bleeding) Good thing I wore my helmet!

The locker room doors fly off their hinges, a ball of fire explodes, Kenny Cooper charges out.

Cooper: RRRAAAHHHH!!

Cooper fires ball into the net. Atoms of ball split, entire pitch catches fire, hole rips in space-time continuum, Cooper jumps through hole as it closes behind him.

Orozco: (elbows Jozy in the throat) What was that!?!

Bradley: I have no idea…

Altidore: (rubbing throat) Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I think we have a pretty awesome group here! Plus, we’ll be playing in the nation’s capital at a very important time in our country’s history. You guys think maybe Barack Obama and John McCain will come out to see us play?

Torres: (opens mouth to speak, but…)

Szetela runs/dances back onto the pitch, still being chased by the Asian security guard.

Szetela: WHOOO! NAT TEAM! WHOOO! YEAH!

Dance party ensues. Ching moves like Frank the Tank after shooting himself with the tranquilizer gun:

Criswell: Greetings, my friends. We are all interested in the future, for that is where you and I are going to spend the rest of our lives. And remember my friends, future events such as these will affect you in the future. You are interested in the unknown… the mysterious. The unexplainable. That is why you are here. And now, for the first time, we are bringing to you, the full story of what will befall Mr. Landon Donovan. My friends, can your heart stand the shocking facts of Landycakes in Germany?

LIGHTNING STRIKES, THUNDER CRACKS.

Criswell: It is May of 2009 and Landon Donovan has been with Bayern Munich since his transfer from the L.A. Galaxy in the January window. Bayern is playing a Bundesliga match against relegation-bound Borussia Monchengladbach. Here we find Landon in what has become a familiar position for him…sitting next to Lukas Podolski on the bench.

Landon: This sucks, Lukas. I still haven’t started a match since I’ve been here, the only goals I score are in FIFA 09, Luca Toni is banging my wife, and I still can’t find a single freaking In-N-Out Burger over here.

Lukas: Vhat is you saying?

Landon: I’m the all-time leading goal scorer for the United States! I should be out there!

Lukas: How vany intearnational goals do you have?

Landon: 36!

Lukas: Impressive. I have only 30 in 57 matches for Deutschland. How vany matches for you?

Landon: Uh, 104.

Lukas: (laughs heartily) Silly boy. You vill never play here.

Landon: (sighs) I wonder what Golden Balls is doing right now…

Back in Los Angeles, David Beckham sits in his agent’s office.

Agent: Alright, David, I’ve got an assbucket of good news for you.

Becks: Ehm, alright.

Agent: First off, your 2009 calendar sold like gangbusters!

Becks: Lovely. But my real concern is Galaxy. Wif Landon gone we’ll be even more rubbish than before.

Agent: No need to worry your pretty little head, it’s all covered. I just got word that the club has signed Ronaldo to come in and score assbuckets of goals!

Becks: Cristiano???

Agent: No, the fat one.

Agent: And to capitalize on this reunion of two former Real Madrid Galacticos, we’ve already committed to put you guys together for a 2010 calendar that will make this year’s sales look like tiddlywinks. Here’s a mock up:

Becks: Bloody hell.

Meanwhile, on the pitch at the Bayern vs. Gladbach match, an enraged Michael Bradley charges at Luca Toni.

Bradley: I WILL STAB YOU WITH A CELL PHONE!!!

Bradley stabs Toni with a cell phone, gets red card, needs to be restrained like Hannibal Lecter.

Bayern manager Jurgen Klinsmann approaches Landon and Podolski.

Klinsmann: Luca needs to come off, one of you must go in for him. Landon!

Landon: (wide-eyed, full of hope) Yes?!

Klinsmann: Tie Lukas’ boots so he can go in.

Landon ties Podolski’s boots, silently weeps.

LIGHTNING STRIKES, THUNDER CRACKS

Criswell: My friends, you have now seen this incident of future events that will affect Mr. Cakes in the future. I leave you now with a simple question: Can you prove that it didn’t happen?

LIGHTNING STRIKES, THUNDER CRACKS

Freddy Adu sits in his luxurious Monte Carlo apartment. The film RV, starring Robin Williams and JoJo, plays on the big screen TV. Freddy reads of Jozy Altidore’s promising start to the La Liga season on his laptop.

Adu: This is bullspit.

Adu: Jozy gets a $10 million transfer to a Champions League team, hat trick in preseason, everyone treatin’ him like a Jonas Brother cause he didn’t play like donkey dump for 45 minutes in his debut, plus this Renken kid has Arsenal up his butt, and The Adu, the original American Pele, is getting garbage minutes for a mid-table club in the Surrender Monkey League. Bullspit!

Adu: Time to put these punks in their place…

Freddy dials his bedazzled cell phone…listens as it rings…and rings.

Adu: Answer the phone! I used to date JoJo!

Renken: (voicemail recording) Hi this is Charlie and I’m watching Arsenal DVDs so I can’t talk to you ok later bye.

Voicemail lady: If you’d like to leave a name and callback number, please do so after the tone.

BEEP

Adu: Flunk you, kid! If you play for Arsenal you will get butt cancer and die! Respect The Adu! American Pele! Santa Claus is dead!

Freddy ends the call.

Adu: Jozy’s turn…

Freddy dials, Jozy answers on the first ring.

Altidore: Hello?

Adu: It’s time to pay yo bills, fool!

Altidore: Freddy? Is that you? Thanks for reminding me, man, but I already paid all my bills this month. I even paid them for next month and the month after that! My mom taught me at a young age how important it is to be financially responsible.

Adu: I’m not talkin’ about your diaper bills, turdspiker, I’m talkin’ about your respect bills! Respect The Adu!

Altidore: (laughs) Of course I respect you, Freddy. You’re a great player, man.

Adu: Then stop taking my headlines! I am the future of American soccer! Not you! Not Pokemon and his Arsenal DVDs! American Pele! The Adu!

Altidore: Nah, don’t worry about that stuff, Freddy. It’s all good. You’re still the man in my book.

Adu: (long pause) Thanks, Jozy. I appreciate that. Sometimes I just feel like things aren’t going the way they should for me and it gets frustrating…Sorry I called you a turdspiker.

Altidore: Don’t worry about it. We all get frustrated sometimes. I mean, I got left off the Champions League squad, the US squad, and I should’ve had a goal against Deportivo la Coruna but the keeper saved it. You just have to roll with that stuff, man. Plus you’re only 19, your time is coming.

Adu: Yeah, you’re right. And you know what else?

Altidore: What?

Adu: Santa Clause is dead, punk! American Pele!

Adu ends the call.

Adu: Alright. Now. Time to take care of that fudgenugget Park…

TO BE CONTINUED…

(maybe)

After yet another mediocre national team performance from Brian Ching (though it was highlighted by a fortuitous goal), many fans and critics are still wondering why Bob Bradley keeps selecting Ching over the second-leading goal scorer in MLS, Kenny “FrankenCooper” Cooper. To shed some light on the matter, here is a fictional account of how Bob reached his decision…

Bob Bradley stares out on the practice pitch as Ching and Cooper approach.

Bob Bradley: Thanks for coming out today, guys. I’m having a hard time deciding which of you to go with, so I thought I’d bring you both in and have you state your cases. Brian, you start.

Ching: Uh, well, to be honest, I’ve never been that great.

Bradley: Ok. Kenny?

Cooper: ggrrAAAHHH!

Bradley: Alright. Brian, a response to that?

Ching: Well, I’m 30 years old now, so I don’t know how much use I’ll be to you when the next World Cup rolls around in a couple years.

Bradley: Valid point. Kenny, you’re 23, right?

Cooper: Grrrrggg.

Jozy Altidore appears.

Jozy: Hey, guys, what’s going on?

Bradley: This doesn’t concern you, Jozy. Back to Spain! Go! On your bike!

Jozy: Ok. See ya, guys! Good luck!

Jozy rides bike away, whistling, rings bell. Bradley glares at him…he keeps glaring.

Ching: Uh, I don’t mean to interrupt, but you should also note that I’m really quite slow and I have the reflexes of someone who’s been slipped a date rape drug.

Bradley: I have to think you could’ve used a more tasteful analogy there, but ok.

Ching: Allow me to demonstrate… pass me the ball, Coach.

Bob flicks a nearby ball at Ching, who reacts like Brad Pitt in the Burn After Reading trailer as it bounces off his face.

Bradley: I see. Kenny, your turn…

Cooper: RRRAAAHHHH!!

Bob passes to Cooper, who fires it into the net. The ball disintegrates, net catches fire, ice caps melt.

Ching: (pinching bloody nose, head tilted back) Coach, please keep in mind that I can score when my teammates make a tremendous play to set me up and the goalkeeper has somehow fallen out of position. Then, with an empty net and from point-blank range, I can score you a goal…but only then.

Bradley: Alright, I think I’ve just about made my decision. Any final words, men?

Ching: I suck.

Cooper: BRAAAIIINNNS!

Bradley: Noted…After careful consideration, I’m going to have to go with Brian here. Sorry, Kenny. Maybe when you’re 30 and your skills have depleted to an acceptable level.

Ching: Thanks, Coach! (Nose bleeds spontaneously) I won’t let you down!

Cooper: (eats brains)