Hot diggity! We had ourselves a barn-burner on Sunday night, ladies and gentlemen. Trust me when I say you wish you would have been there. Despite the unfortunate postponement of Caraiman vs Noroc, the ninth match of our little series went off without a hitch. Y’all should’a been at this here hootenany, I tell you whut.

As the third foreign beer in the tournament, Tuborg Strong invaded the BraşoDome and were welcomed by the fans as conquering heros. That’s right, Timmy, the Romanian beer drinkers were actually hailing the mighty crimson and black from the frozen north of Denmark. These Danish warriors were menacing and somber with a keen eye toward revenging the loss of their sister team Tuborg Gold.

The crowds mostly ignored the yellow jerseyed brand when they entered the coliseum. Sure, the funny commercials are well liked in Romania, but to actually drink some? I’ve never seen it. Ever. At all. Leading beerontological experts believe this is a consquence of Bergenbier’s status of a cultural mutt. It’s brewed in Romania, has Belgian ownership, and the name is a mixture of Norwegian and German. And yet, flying in the face of overwhelming anecdotal evidence, some bean counters claim it was the leading beer in 2003.

At the cap-off, things got wet quickly as the eager competitors went neck in neck. That is, their bottle necks were nearly down the throats of the judges necks. As the first to be orally enclosed, Tuborg Strong has the first chance to make good on its rage. Racing down the sidelines to the deafening thunder of the expectant crowd, Tuborg Royal Export stung the thirsty palates with its patented flavored of a sugared-up sourmash. GOAL!

Nonplussed, the sticla din Belgia surprised the complacent judges (who had been secretly fearing the worst from this heretofore unknown taste) with a full-bodied and outrageously delicious balance of light malts and hard hops that washed away all concerns with a slightly nutmeg characteristic in just an instant. GOAL!

In fact, the Bergenbier flavorings shocked both the crowd and officials alike by completely dominating the tastebudinal aspect of the game, when it was assumed that Tuborg Royal Export would win that category. Yet, for all the predictions of the betting public, the radiant Truth came shining down on the blessed referrees as they greedily relished large swigs of this Lager As Lagers Should Be. Astonishing all present with undeniable great brewmastery, Bergbier struck again before the half. GOAL!

The inter-period break featured the very talented discography of Tool, which made rock lovers of all apartments surrounding the BrasoDome. The gathered faithful played a little air guitar, took their try at singing, and even engaged in a little headbanging fun. During breaks between songs, the game caller notified alert sportsfans that some health conscious smack talkin’ was still raging on about possible side effects of Ciuc.

During the second half, Tuborg Strong evened things up with the expected superstar forwards using the devastating alcohol content to push the yellow defenders back on their heels. GOAL!

As you mostly cannot tell from the photo above, the Danish Royals (and not the royal danish, mmm yum) were a strong straw color while the Norwegermans were close in coloration but with slightly more amber hues darkening them. Either way, the image is a complete failure to capture what at the time seemed like a relatively simple scene to nail. But between the lighting, mugalogical differentiation, and general incompetence, it turned out a bit shoddy. Sorry, gents.

Ever persistent, the boys of Bergenbier took their succulent, savory time in passing the ball down the field. Eventually, their costational lownitude paid off when the far side left-wing struck gold on a flying scissor kick. GOAL!

Tensions mounted in the stadium as the lush drunkards anticipated a counterstrike from the mighty alcohol of Tuborg Royal Export. Indeed, the crimson worshippers were not disappointed when the expected attack came with the sheer brute force of seven point two percent alcohol by volume and the very breath of Tuborg Strong sent the ball sailing on a saturated wind. GOAL!

Satisfied with a draw match instead of a loss, the weary crowds shuffled towards the exits, muttering under their breaths and fumbling around for taxi money. Invariably, the louder folks were chattering about the upcoming match between CBA and Skol. Talent scouts discovered CBA was managed by the same brewer as Carrefour, so bets weren’t being made about who would win, but rather about how much nonsense the judges could suffer.

Oh, but strange things happen. With most of the beer drinking public already squabbling over who got shotgun in the 1968 Dacia taxi, everyone paused in disbelief at the sounds of a roar coming from inside the BraşoDome. While not many people had remained behind, the excitement unextinguishable as newly loyal Bergenbier fans watched them but the nail in the coffin with a late shot based on the insanely low price of only 1,39 RON. GOAL!

Fantatical supporters stormed the field and tore down the goal posts. Fire works were set off and someone opened more bottles. The party raged on into the wee hours of morning when Mirinda, the janitor tasked with preparing the BrasoDome for the next match, found a number of individuals passed out on the field… including Spammy, conspicuously absent from the game after his recent injuries, who was found wearing earrings, lipstick and a wig in what is sure to be a scandal for some time to come.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, June 20th, 2006 at 5:24 pm and is filed under Mondial Bere '06. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.