The US World Cup Team Gets Its Proper Dose Of Motivation

06.09.10 8 years ago 96 Comments

Landon Donovan: Holy smokes! We’re in South Africa, Jozy! We’re finally here!

Jozy Altidore: Yup.

Landon Donovan: This is the big one, man. Lotta people hoping we finally come through.

Jozy Altidore: Yup.

Landon Donovan: How’s your ankle?

Jozy Altidore: It’s all right.

Landon Donovan: I think we can do it, Jozy. We almost won that Confederations Cup last year, you know.

Jozy Altidore: Yup.

Landon Donovan: You think Coach will have a few wrinkles ready for us?

Jozy Altidore: I don’t know.

(door flies open)

Coach Bob Bradley: All right, men! Listen up! The time for sightseeing is OVER! We gotta hunker down and get ready for these Brits. I want you men focused. I want you determined. I want you ready to shock the world. That’s why I personally flew in someone very special to talk to you boys about what this Saturday means for you, and for your fellow countrymen.

Jozy Altidore: Who’s that?

(door flies open)



Donovan: Whoa hey, that’s Coach Rex Ryan of the New York Jets!

Jozy Altidore: The fuck is Rex Ryan doing here?

Coach Bob Bradley: I’ve long felt that Coach Ryan’s aggressive approach to American football is just the kind of no-bull philosophy we need to take down the Three Lions. Isn’t that right, Coach?

Ryan: Oh, men. MEN. God dammit, men, I feel fucking GREAT today. Do you feel fucking great?

Donovan: I guess.

Ryan: Let me tell you about the shit I took on Delta coming over here, men. All the sanitary napkins in the WORLD won’t clean up the fucking WAR I waged on that little airplane potty. It was like dropping six hydrogen bombs on an igloo. A DISPLAY OF OVERWHELMING FUCKING FORCE.

Jozy: What?

Ryan: All right, first order of business: NICKNAMES. Landon, your new nickname is PA INGALLS!

Donovan: Why Pa Ingalls?

Ryan: Because I fucking loved that show and don’t tell anyone or I will stuff you in a urinal and piss on ya. The dad reminded me of my dad, ONLY MY DAD WAS A KILLER! Altidore, your new nickname is The Instigator.

Jozy: Okay.

Ryan: Dempsey, your new nickname is Cumbubble. I don’t like your hair. Beasley, your new nickname is BEAST.

DeMarcus Beasly: But that’s already my nickname.

Ryan: Then I’m calling you Pussymonger! Now, what’s the nickname of our team?

Bradley: Uh…

Donovan: Uh…

Jozy: Well…

Ryan: Oh sweet little infant Jesus sucking on his mom’s tit. THERE’S NO NICKNAME FOR OUR NATIONAL TEAM?

Donovan: No one ever really came up with one that stuck.

Ryan: Well, that is bullshit, pretty boy! We’re coming up with a nickname RIGHT NOW!

Donovan: Shouldn’t we practice dribbling?

Ryan: Fuck your dribbling! This is important. EVERY team in this stupid tournament has a nickname! Even Cameroon has a nickname, and I thought Cameroon was just a cookie before someone told me it was a place full of Africans! The British are the Three Lions! The Italians are the BLUE FAGGOTS! And the Canadians are the Fuckhead Mountie Salmonblowers Who Couldn’t Make The Cut! AM I RIGHT?

Jozy: Well, the Mexicans always call us Los Gringos. We could call ourselves that.

Ryan: Too Spanish.

Bradley: The Eagles?

Ryan: The team that fucked over my daddy? NEXT!

Donovan: The Red White and Blue?

Ryan: NEXT!

Jozy: The Tailgunners?

Ryan: God dammit. From now on, your new team nickname is THE FUCKING OVERLORDS OF DEATH. You got it? You are a fucking group of KILLERS. Now, next up: Bounties. $1,000 to the first fucker that takes out Rooney’s legs while he’s trying to head in a goal.

Donovan: Won’t that get us a red card?

Ryan: Oh! Oh, no! Oh, little Pa Ingalls is afraid of fucking STATIONERY. You men play this dipshit soccer game like a bunch of soccer players!

Jozy: But we ARE soccer players.

Ryan: No, you aren’t! You are the fucking OVERLORDS OF DEATH. You are the fucking sheet of icy cold darkness that envelops the world and suffocates every living thing trapped inside. You are not human. You are a dark force of the netherworld. You are the cavalry the frightened villagers hear before the slaughter. You are here to fucking LAY WASTE! Do you understand?

Everyone: Yes.


Everyone: YES!

Ryan: Men, I don’t pretend to understand your little sport. I know all the little Mexicans and Eurofags play it, and good for them. Little Mexicans and Eurofags need things to do. And I know you can’t use your hands, and that “tackling” someone means tapping their shins like a little cumswiller. BUT JUST BECAUSE YOUR SPORT IS FOR PUSSIES DOESN’T MEAN YOU HAVE TO FOLLOW SUIT! Men, I have seen you play. You play like frightened little boys. You play like you don’t belong. You’re afraid to let your guard down and ATTACK ATTACK ATTACK! Well, it’s time to cut that shit out forever.

I don’t want you to play “The Beautiful Game,” men. Leave that for the ass shakers from South America. I don’t want to see you play beautiful. I want to see you men play the UGLY GAME. I want you men to play the grisly, nasty, filthy, evil game. I don’t want you to make it pretty. I want you to make it fucking hurt. I want you to make those fuckers on the other side of the field BLEED. You know what I’m talking about, Pa Ingalls? You ever make them bleed? You ever make a lady bleed with pleasure?

Donovan: Well, I…


Ryan: Oh! Oh! Oh, ol’ Pa Ingalls here brought in the red tide last night! THAT’S DOUBLE GREAT HUSTLE!

(slaps Donovan twice on the ass, hard)

Donovan: Ouch!

Ryan: That’s what I’m talking about! Don’t make it pretty, men. Make it sweaty, and stinky, and vile and putrid. Make those assholes in the stands want to throw up when they see you get out there and fucking POUND THOSE LIMEY FUCKS. Is that who you play on Saturday? England?

Donovan: Yes, sir.

Ryan: And I suppose people think the English will win, do they?

Donovan: Yes, sir.

Ryan: BAHAHAHAHAHAHA! The fucking English? Those fuckers can’t even win their own tennis party. Let me tell you something about the English, gentlemen. A hundred years ago, those limey twats owned a quarter of the world. They were an EMPIRE. Their little dipshit king ruled over Canada, India, Egypt, and even the very soil you gentlemen now stand upon. They owned it all. They even owned US at one point. And do you know what happened to that empire, men? Do you?

Donovan: It fell, sir?

Ryan: You’re goddamn right, it fell. India? Gone. Canada? Gone. Africa? Fucking GONE. All those pantyhose wearers have left is some island full of pineapple eaters out in the ocean somewhere. They lost it all. They are NOTHING. They are fucking WEAK. They are a rotting shell of an empire, only they’re too stupid to even realize it. When the last time these fuckers won this tournament?

Donovan: 1966, sir.

Ryan: 1966! 1966! They’ve won JACK SHIT since 1966! Who have they beaten? What have they proven? And yet somehow, they’re miles better than YOU? Men, you are not underdogs. There are no underdogs in the world. There is only the weak. You are the fucking CHAMPIONS. If no one sees you coming, well then that’s their fault for being too fucking stupid to notice. You will take that field on Saturday, and you will fucking scratch and kick and claw. Your hands can’t touch the ball, but they sure as hell can touch BALLS, can they not? GRAB AND TWIST, FUCKOS! We are going to beat the ever loving piss out of these guys, and then we’re gonna take down the whole fucking thing. And your training begins NOW! BRING OUT THE GUMBY!

Donovan: Gumby?



Donovan: Kill him?


(everyone kicks the gumby to death)

Ryan: Do you fucking feel it, men? Do you feel THE UGLY GAME rising up within you? Do you now realize what you’re capable of?

Everyone: YES!

Ryan: Fucking bring it in!

(everyone brings it in)

Ryan: I don’t want you gentlemen to be soccer players out there. I want you to be FOOTBALL players. Real football, like the kind I coach. I want you to be ready to fucking TEE OFF. I want you to show the world how we do business here in America. We do it ROUGH. We take what we want and FUCK YOU if you get in our way. We don’t give a shit how messy it gets. BECAUSE LOSERS ARE THE ONES WHO HAVE TO CLEAN UP THE MESS. You will beat those English butlers, and then you will fucking crush Souvlakia.

Bradley: Slovenia.


Everyone: YES!

Ryan: Fucking kill on three ONE TWO THREE!

Everyone: KILL!

Ryan: God damn, I need a burger! Where do I find a burger in this shithole? Everyone here smells!

Donovan: We’re making the quarters, Jozy.

Jozy: Hell yes we are.

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