The Lucky Few

It's Christmas in June.  Soccer fans throughout the world are holding their breaths just a bit today, ready to exhale for an entire month.  I am, for lack of a better term, excited.  But if you have a better term please send it in.  My symptoms include dry mouth, perspiration, and a complete inability to work.

The World Cup is March Madness in June.  That is if March Madness were an international affair pitting the top athletes in their sport against each other every four years.  So yes, World Cup is better than March Madness.  That should say something to those nay sayers out there.  Especially since I used to loathe futbol.

But now I am part of the lucky few.  I am aligned with those in this country that can witness and marinate in the greater picture that is soccer.  I was once befuddled by those that could sit around and watch a game that had no score for an hour and a half.  Now I know the answer to that question is easy.  You sit and watch.  Once you do so, you will never look back.

My arguments were the same as yours.  The scoring is too low.  Well that's a very American thing to say.  Sometimes the foreplay is just as tantalizing as the act itself.  In soccer the build up of a potential goal is like an hour with a beautiful woman.  Except if you're me, you are drinking beer and the room probably smells like carnitas.  I am talking about the game watching not the being with a woman...but the same for that too.  Either way the passing and movements in open space are like poetry. That is of course if poetry was awesome.

What else?  Oh yeah the flopping.  I can't help this.  I hate it.  You hate it.  The players feel foolish doing it.  Its a necessary evil that more people should just accept.  Running around for ninety minutes is tiring. So if there are no timeouts in this sport, why not just fall down and say "Hold on a fucking second, I'm Super winded over here."  I can deal with that.  I think I might employ this tactic in my daily life, perhaps after reaching the top of a flight of stairs.

Then there is the possibility of a game going to kicks.  This is another acceptance that one has to make for a game that already takes from every player all they can muster.  When running for 90 minutes does not give us a winner, the players will run for thirty more.  If they still have none they can either run for a little more and make a complete mess of the field or they can just kick the ball and call it a day.  I hate that this happens, but really there is no other way.

But in the arbitrariness of the free kick is the justice of it all.  Both teams get a coin flip.  The rest is left up to fate.  I like that idea.  Let's let some magical mysticism decide the game.  I guess.  I'm sure I will still be pissed in the end.  But here's to the journey.  That is all soccer is after all.