Word: turfed
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...dying moments of the second leg of his country's World Cup play-off against Germany on Nov. 14, he knew the goal would serve no purpose: the Germans were already leading by four. As the final whistle sounded in Dortmund's Westfalenstadion, the Ukrainians slumped to the turf. Shevchenko was shattered. "The door of the World Cup is closed to me," he said later. Football fans around the world mourned with Shevchenko, for they will be deprived of the chance of seeing football's most prolific striker?73 goals in 104 games for Italian giants AC Milan...
Upon entering the exhibit you are immediately drawn to a pile of what appears to be large hunks of turf, haphazardly dumped in the center of the room. As it turns out, these are actually chunks of chocolate, popcorn and caramel, there to be eaten. For some reason it is a disconcerting sight to see tweedy patrons bending down and nibbling at a sculpture...
...basement of the White House, for high-level meetings. But the National Security Council considers the facility its own preserve, for monitoring the counterterrorism war in Afghanistan and elsewhere overseas, and is balking at sharing. National Security Adviser Condoleezza Rice has already given up some of her turf; she ceded control over the counterterrorism fight inside the U.S. to Ridge (while retaining oversight of the battle abroad). But prime real estate in the West Wing is another matter...
...grim knowledge of the threats to American forces on the ground. The pace and scale of the Taliban's retreat last week left U.S. special-ops troops scattered throughout a ravaged land that lacks a central governing authority. Dozens of warlords staked claims to their own pieces of turf, and in several cities, ethnic tensions held the potential for fresh violence. And even as the Taliban's supreme leader, Mullah Omar, attempted to install his replacements in Kandahar and take to the hills, he vowed to turn his cadre of holy warriors into guerrillas who would fight U.S. forces...
...good friends and a glass of warm rum cider. My roommates and I standing among the hoards waiting to rush the field, shocked by the Yale band’s flag burning half-time show but proud that we had finally stuck it to them (and on their own turf, no less). Once on the field, I turned to see none other than President Lawrence H. Summers milling among the jubilated crowds. No time to consider proper protocol, I went with my instincts and asked him to pose for a celebratory photo. Just another of the vivid memories, the snapshots...