Liza left for Los Angeles today, her grandmother’s ninetieth birthday. I stayed behind for a matter I judged more pressing, the World Cup third place match, though I concede the ranking of priorities may not survive scrutiny. England beat France six to four, a result the wider world has already declared the game of the tournament. I could not quite share the fervor. A third place match is still a third place match, and my investment never climbed very high, though I confess some private satisfaction at watching France go into the half down four to nothing. It leaves me one small consolation to carry forward: Mexico, at least, lost to the team that finished third.