The guys answer your tweets on the best manager in the world, the top Ballon d'Or candidates, and Conte's celebrations. For the first time in my life, I am officially a West Coast soccer fan. That's right: I have left the comfort of my bar stool at New York's Football Factory and moved to Los Angeles to live out my dream of being a mustache model. Sure, the weather's great and you can get a quinoa pizza to go once you've removed all your taste buds, but you also have to wake up three hours earlier just to watch football. On the other hand, my new local pub, Ye Olde King's Head, is conveniently located only a corner kick away from the Pacific Ocean, just in case I want to pitch myself into...
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