A team you probably didn't know we have has won a trophy that probably shouldn't exist, in a competition with the words "World" and "Cup" in it, which sounds about as Texan as tofu. Not since Garibaldi gave Apulia to Piedmont has a prize been received with more befuddlement and nascent regret. Italy wound up with the Mafia, and Texas has one more thing to live down.
That Texas beat a top-seeded UCLA to win it all does nothing to take the sting out of this victory. The final score, 190 - 80, sounds more like Cricket, where they use words like "test" and eject players for "taking a step toward an umpire."
This is a game that has a human playing the role of the Golden Snitch. I am not making this up. Someone runs around playing a one-man game of tag in the middle of several simultaneous games of kickball and volley-hoop. And Texas is on top. Where people can see us.
I'm not going to beat up on Harry Potter (that's what every other single effing character in the books is for), but running around pretending you can fly is for children and mentally-ill Turks. To run around with a broomstick between your legs is to be a threat to yourself and others, and a sure way to be deleted from those dial-a-dick-pic devices today's young women euphemistically call "phones." No gonorrhea for you! You and your contused member will be spending the evening with tumblr. Good thing for you this "sport" is co-ed. Laxbros colliding with women who read. Books. They look like they're shitting straw, and none of them are flying.
For this reason, the World Cup of Quidditch isn't technically Quidditch. It's Muggle-Quidditch. We need a new word to convey not just the oxymoronic nature of such a phrase, but the sheer shame it conveys by making the mistake of trying to exist at all. It's like "business ethics," the "European parliament," "zigan urban planning." Winning at Muggle Quidditch is like nail-failing that coyote-hottie with your impotence-boner.
Now I know how Jim Rome feels about soccer.