The 2008 FIFA Beach Soccer World Cup Final took place between Italy and Brazil on 27 July 2008 at the Plage du Prado. Brazil were the winners, winning by five goals to three. Brazil have beaten fifteen other teams to be crowned FIFA Beach Soccer World Cup 2008 Winners. It was Brazil's third title in a row.
Read more about 2008 FIFA Beach Soccer World Cup Final: Match Details, Overall Statistics, See Also
Famous quotes containing the words beach, soccer, world, cup and/or final:
“From the beach the child holding the hand of her father,
Those burial clouds that lower victorious soon to devour all,
Watching, silently weeps.”
—Walt Whitman (1819–1892)
“Our first line of defense in raising children with values is modeling good behavior ourselves. This is critical. How will our kids learn tolerance for others if our hearts are filled with hate? Learn compassion if we are indifferent? Perceive academics as important if soccer practice is a higher priority than homework?”
—Fred G. Gosman (20th century)
“Having children can smooth the relationship, too. Mother and daughter are now equals. That is hard to imagine, even harder to accept, for among other things, it means realizing that your own mother felt this way, too—unsure of herself, weak in the knees, terrified about what in the world to do with you. It means accepting that she was tired, inept, sometimes stupid; that she, too, sat in the dark at 2:00 A.M. with a child shrieking across the hall and no clue to the child’s trouble.”
—Anna Quindlen (20th century)
“I believe that water is the only drink for a wise man: wine is not so noble a liquor; and think of dashing the hopes of a morning with a cup of warm coffee, or of an evening with a dish of tea! Ah, how low I fall when I am tempted by them! Even music may be intoxicating. Such apparently slight causes destroyed Greece and Rome, and will destroy England and America.”
—Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)
“After a month or so I get used to the book’s final stage, to its having been weaned from my brain. I now regard it with a kind of amused tenderness as a man regards not his son, but the young wife of his son.”
—Vladimir Nabokov (1899–1977)