"I never thought our national team could play this well. 4-1 — against Scotland!"

"But isn't Scotland kind of a weaker country?"

"Ha, come on. This guy's standards have just gotten too high, it's a real problem. Buddy. Scotland is Europe. Europe. And they're right next door to England — the home of football itself. You call a country like that weak? Ah, come on. Say something like that and you'll get an earful."

"But they didn't even make it to the World Cup, right?"

"That's because the qualifying tournament is a whole different level."

Finding his clueless friend frustrating, the man gulped down his beer and launched into an explanation.

"The European qualifiers are on a completely different level from the Asian ones. In the last cup, the Netherlands — who crushed us — didn't make it through, and traditional powers like Italy get knocked out too. That's the European qualifiers for you."

"No way… Really? The Netherlands and Italy got knocked out?"

His friend stared at him in disbelief.

Frustration boiling over, the man tossed back more beer and pressed on.

"You think I'm making this up? I'm telling you, Europe is on another level. Look over there."

At the tip of his pointing finger hung a large sheet of paper printed with the national flags.

The flags were arranged by World Cup group, with the schedule and location of each match spelled out beneath them in tiny lettering.

"See if you can find the Netherlands' flag up there."

"What? Why would I—"

"Just look, then talk."

Waving his friend on to search, the man reached for a snack.

His friend squinted at the sheet on the wall for a long moment.

There were thirty-two flags — but the Netherlands' flag wasn't among them.

"Am I going blind? Why can't I see the Netherlands?"

"That's normal — you shouldn't be able to see them."

The friend tilted his head, puzzled.

The man lifted his beer glass again.

"The Netherlands are out, so of course they're not up there. And it wasn't just the Netherlands. Yugoslavia, the Czechs, Norway…