World Cup

I guess I better put my 2 cents in on the World Cup before the whole thing is over.

I've been paying attention from the beginning. I even made my own bracket and posted it in the kitchen so I can keep up with who's moving on and who didn't.

Not that I really watched the games much. I don't understand the non-scoring part of soccer, which kinda makes up about 98% of most games. Educated soccer fans can see the offensive and defensive schemes at work and can get excited about them.

Here's what I know about soccer: 1. Flopping to the ground after minor (or no) contact to draw penalties or milk the clock is wimpy, un-American and mildly entertaining. 2. Between the mysterious stoppage time and their ability to see or not see fouls where they do or do not exist, the referees have entirely too much power to control the outcome of the game. 3. The offsides rule exists solely to reduce scoring.

So why do I even bother to keep up?

Four years ago, I was at an airport in Chicago, on my way to a wedding in North Carolina (yes, I am not an experienced air traveler). I had a short layover.

There was this pseudo-bar just about 40 yards from my gate. It had beer, which was good enough for me. And it also had this crappy little TV, maybe a 23-incher. The TV did not have cable. No, it was getting its reception through a pair of rabbit ears on top.

The screen showed ghostly images in a field of static. Every now and then it came in a little bit clearer. Every now and then you couldn't see anything at all.

I wouldn't have bothered to look, except that the United Nations of fellow drinkers I had surrounding me at the bar were absolutely riveted. There was a couple of Asian businessman. Some Hispanic fellows. A couple of Germans (or some nationality that speaks something close to German). Some other Europeans.

And they were staring at the screen. Not because it was there — it was too fuzzy for just casual viewing. No they were working hard to make out what was happening. All of them were focused on that screen in the same way that I would be watching the Dallas Cowboys in the NFC championship.

It was the World Cup of course. And with every bit of action that could be deciphered, the guys would yell and groan. With nothing better to do, I did my best to join in. And I was distracted to the point that I damn near missed my plane, gulping down half a pint of beer and sprinting to my gate on the final boarding call.

(Some of you might have noticed that airports, alcohol and Mr. Bottlecaps is a combination that usually leads to trouble.)

Anyway, I ended up with a new perspective on the World Cup and soccer.

I'm still not really a soccer fan myself, but I appreciate what it means to much of the rest of the world.

And this is where this year comes in.

Too often I've heard from people who spend their time talking big about soccer, waxing poetic on the sport's subtleties and (this is the part that gets to me), looking down on those who don't understand the real football and only watch, snort, American football.

I know there are Americans who have been real soccer fans for years, but there are far too many people who have suddenly announced themselves as soccer connoisseurs in (this is my opinion) a sadly transparent attempt at making themselves look worldly and hip.

And the tendency to paint everyone in terms of soccer expert or knuckle-dragging American is just an extension of politics' and the 24-hour news media's ongoing tendency to make sure we only see the world in black and white.

The vuvuzela makes a great example: All the discussion centers around whether it is annoying or whether it should be banned. The truth is, it is annoying as shit, but it should not be banned. It's just a part of the World Cup in South Africa.

I want to be the first to say: It is OK to have a mild interest in the World Cup. It is OK to get excited about the American team's victory over Algeria, even if you don't understand what happened. (This is how many Americans look at most Winter Olympics sports, anyway).

There is nothing wrong with spending a month every four years getting to know a global phenomenon and then returning to our own national pastimes. You can dip your toes in the the pool, if you want. You don't have to jump off the high dive.

I'll be watching some portion of the World Cup final on Sunday. And I'll think it's pretty cool. But when it's over, I won't be thinking "we get to do it again in four years."

I'll be thinking "it's only 55 days until football season."

Comments

[Lee]

Nice post. Much better than the "why soccer will never catch on in America" articles that sportswriters always feel obligated to print every four years, often word-for-word the same article.

I think coaching youth soccer has really helped me appreciate the game, although it by no means makes one an expert. The game my kids play is quite a ways off from what the pros do.