Tuesday was supposed to be a trip to Stratford-Upon-Avon to see Twelfth Night and do some Shakespeare things, but with the amount of work I had to do, I had to skip it. That, and the fact that we'd get back at midnight and I had to catch a bus a 7am the next day. Where was I taking the bus? To Manchester, to go watch some Olympic soccer!
The match was a men's group stage game between Spain (my loves) and Morocco. When we originally bought the tickets, I thought that the Olympic team would be the same as the Spanish National Team. Casillas, Xabi Alonso, Ramos, Torres...I was going to explode. Turns out, per FIFA regulations, Olympic squads are all U-23 players, plus up to three players over 23. And some club teams can block their players from participating. So this was not La Furia Roja.
Spain had already been knocked out, so this game didn't mean too much. They did try though. But they blew a lot of opportunities in the second half, and the game ended 0-0. Oh well. It was still awesome to see!
Halftime, and down comes the rain. The cheap seats were covered!
gutter issues?
The worst seats in the house...
Ew, ManU.
My attempt at the Football Logo pose. I look like a figure skater.
...Then lots of candids happened, as Megan refused to stop taking pictures. They're kind of hilarious, so I had to post them all.
Attempt #2--bowling?
Look what I found!
We watched the Olympics in the town square on the big screen. Luckily it was swimming! Of course, when Nathan Adrian won gold, we HAD to do the obnoxious Rocky-style "ADRIAAAAAAAAAN!" Sorry you don't really win medals, Team GB.
Manchester has a China Town?
We arrived in Oxford right around 4am...and had class at 8. Sleep? We don't need no stinkin' sleep.
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