Wayne Rooney in agony? Maybe. But he might just be feigning some of the pain. A World Cupper’s first job is to flop and grimace at even the slightest brush-by contact. The games, too often, are ninety-some minutes of twenty-two thin, fit, young, incredibly-amazingly-fragile, apparently-very-injury-prone drama queens running around on a big green field.
Slackers.