It's hard to believe it this year, when Italy didn't even qualify for the Mondiale, but twelve years ago they won.
It just goes to show how quickly anything can change, whether it's supernova theory or FIFA cabals aka the geodeportivo landscape.
My memory of that world cup is not the greatest, but That was the year the Jag came east.
Ironically, the children of privilege who may have been my tribe were so enraged, so dangerous to their own kind that I was left with a crowd of heavily armed Latinos so that I would live.
And for all his faults, Jag was a good father in many ways.
he had seen his tween nieces turn into barrio bitches, and was worried about his own daughters growing up in the LA gang scene, or so the story goes.
Many rurally born mexicans of both genders have kids before they're out of their teens, and Jag was no exception. He had to confront the realities of responsibility before a lot of gringos wake up from a beer bong party.
By the time he left the country, he was just barely 30 but had half a dozen kids already

He took us all east, even me, but he left me with the Godfather for four years.
Maybe he was sick of worrying that a crazed gringo relative would find out where I was and blow his cover.
The Godfather not only was trustworthy, he was a master of hiding things in plain sight, so that armed confrontation was almost never necessary, and the Jag held the Sicilians in high esteem. HOME.