Morgan Wallen canceled his Saturday concert at Acrisure Stadium because he didn’t think Pittsburgh could find a raincoat.
I was supposed to walk out Wallen at the beginning of that show. Being a big celebrity. But that got scratched, so I drove to Cleveland and watched international soccer, a pre-World Cup friendly between Brazil and Egypt.
I’m kidding, of course.
I would never attend a Morgan Wallen concert.
Over 64,000 showed up at Huntington Bank Field to watch Brazil nip Egypt, 2-1.
Many were present for the same reason as me: To see (soon-to-be ex-) Liverpool FC star Mohamed Salah captain Egypt. Lots of Salah jerseys and Liverpool gear. Thousands of both.
Brazil was better supported via expatriates and heritage. Lots of kids and pasty-white bandwagon jumpers wearing Vini Jr. kits, too. (Full disclosure: I’m not from Liverpool.)
If Ben Roethlisberger had played for either team, he would have made the difference. He always wins in Cleveland.
The stadium’s ring of “honor” commemorates eight championships for the Browns, the last in 1964. And you think the Toronto Maple Leafs and Philadelphia Flyers should be embarrassed. (They should. So should the Pirates.)
The game was OK.
Brazil isn’t as good as they have been or as good as they would like, but were the better side, displayed attacking flair and showed why they’re in the second rung of legit World Cup contenders at 9-1. Egypt is a massive longshot at 300-1 but were competitive on the day.
But for me, the story was Salah.
Salah played nine seasons at Liverpool, helped win everything possible, is the club’s third all-time leading goal-scorer, won the Premier League Golden Boot four times, is a dazzling playmaker and master of both big moments and the spectacular.
A true Liverpool legend. That word is overused, but applies to Salah.
He’s a lot of fun to watch, too. Passes the eye test.
I teared up a bit when Salah lapped the field after the game and waved to the fans. It might be the last time I see Salah play live.
Salah had a decent game after entering at halftime: A great turn with the ball to beat a defender, a slick pass with the outside of his foot but no nailed-on looks and none of his work found the back of the net.
That didn’t stop the man sitting next to me from whooping orgasmically every time Salah got a touch. His expectations were even higher than mine.
It was an odd crowd. More American in its behavior than I expected.
Eating, drinking, merchandise, recording everything on video and mugging for the scoreboard Jumbotron were prioritized over watching the game. Lots of people left early, too.
Brazil’s fans chanted “Brazil!” Egypt’s supporters chanted “Egypt!” Not super creative.
It didn’t measure up to Anfield. (I compare every stadium to Anfield. Anfield always wins.)
But it was a terrific day. I had a great seat: Six rows from the field, 20 yards away from the center line.
I considered jumping the barrier and running onto the field to get a selfie with Salah, himself a master of the genre.
But two things stopped me: Jumping and running.
Two guys invaded the pitch at game’s end. That stupidity with Victor Wembanyama during Game 1 of the NBA Finals started an unfortunate trend.
One of the dipsticks got mauled by security. The other reversed fields upon pursuit and went back into the stands.
It was fantastic to see Salah play.
Thanks, Mo.
I could never say enough, so I’ll keep it brief and relive everything Salah did every day for the rest of my life.
Especially that 2-nil goal against Manchester United in 2020: “Now you’re gonna believe us!”
The World Cup is next.
The U.S. has zero chance.
I’ll be attending Scotland vs. Morocco June 19 at Foxborough, Mass.
That’s a bucket-list thing and a chance to watch Scotland captain Andy Robertson, another departing Liverpool icon.
Nothing is better than soccer. Hockey is a dead heat. Everything else stinks, to be honest.
NFL games contain, on average, only 11 minutes of actual action. Even less when it’s the Steelers.