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Published: June 21st 2006
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My Non-Existent History with Soccer:
As of one month ago, this was (as far as I can remember) the only conversation that the Mesle family has ever had about Soccer.
Mark: So how was your weekend?
Sarah (my wonderful older sister): It was really great I got recruited to play a game of intramural soccer with some of my friends.
Mark: How did it go?
Sarah: It was so much fun, you just get to run around and look for things.
Mark: You mean like the ball?
Sarah: Yeah, I like looking for it.
Mark: Well, that’s…um,….that’s great Sarah.
Sarah later clarified that on numerous occasions she did in fact “find” the ball, however when she found it she was not exactly sure what to do with it.
During the 2002 World Cup, I was vaguely aware of three things:
1. The US had won a game or two of the World Cup.
2. They had probably won these games by scoring more goals than their opponents.
3. According to the rest of the world these victories should have had some impact on my emotional well-being.
In reality these victories were significantly less important to
my emotional well being than the fact that 7-11 had finally started serving cherry slurpies again for the summer.
During the 2006 world cup I not only rescheduled my classes in order to watch a US game. But when the US lost this game 3-0 to the Czech Republic I was genuinely pissed off for the rest of the day. So much so that I actually snapped at one of my students (which I never do) when all he did was make the same type of arrogant and condescending comment that he makes every class. During the next game against Italy when one of the Italian players blatantly elbowed a US player in the face, my heart filled with a genuine disdain not only for this one particular player, or even the Italian team, but for the entire country of Italy. And when a US player slid viciously into the ankle of one of the Italian players I did feel a little bad for the guy, but in the back of my mind I have to admit that I was thinking, “it’s a tough sport, things happen.” I don’t know what the hell happened to me. Up to now
I have never cared about soccer, and what’s more I have never been particularly patriotic or competitive. Now all of sudden I have turned into some weird yuppie version of George Patton. It’s all very disconcerting. Before I know it I'm going to be wearing a hat that says "These Colors Don't Run" and a shirt that says "Ayatollah Assaholla."
Never Cry Wolf:
One of the little quirks of the game is that whenever a player is tackled or even bumped by a player from the other team they instantly fall to the ground and pretend that their tendons were partially detached and are now dangling loose within their knee or ankle. (Sometimes they pretend that they are dead, but this is less common.) While they do this their face contracts into a grimace that conveys to the ref that their opponent is a monster who has not only purposely ended their career, but will likely murder their dog in the very near future. This is of course done to provoke a penalty from the ref. As an American, and a natural worrier, this was very disorienting for me at first. In America we are raised on stories
Me doing my best to be a real soccer fan
Thanks be to Silvio for the jersey. Silvio is the greatest senior accountant/hard-core surfer/punk rock afficiando that I know. And when he combines forces with his partner in crime Luciana, they are unstoppable. of athletes like Lou Gherig who display weakness only after they are informed that they have a rare terminal disease and even then the message is not “pity me ” but rather “I am the luckiest man on the face of the earth.” But here literally every five minutes someone falls down to the ground and looks as if they are about to start crying. Then of course they get up five seconds later and are perfectly fine. From time to time they even do things like forget which leg was supposed to be hurt and limp around a little on the wrong leg. At first I fell for it every time, and felt so bad for each player and was genuinely upset at the player who had supposedly hurt them. Now my heart has hardened and when a player goes down I instantly assume they are trying to deceive the ref and I curse them under my breath. From time to time players are seriously injured, as it can be a surprisingly brutal game. Yet even when they are being carried off the field, in the back of my head I am still thinking “faker.” It’s terrible. I think that “The Boy who cried Wolf” should be required reading for all soccer players. What is worse is that I am sure little kids here do this all the time as well and it must be very awkward for little league refs to tell a nine year old “look we both know your faking, now get up.”
Povero Claudio:
On Friday one of my students, who is in upper management at a big bank and a fanatical soccer fan, made a comment that was fairly representative of this country’s obsession with soccer:
“You know what I like most about the World Cup is that I get to watch so much Soccer without feeling guilty about it. During the regular season I don’t get to watch that much at all because I’m so busy. On Sundays I watch the hour-long recap of the Argentine premier league, on Tuesdays I watch an hour-long summary of the British League and a half hour recap of the Argentine B League. On Thursdays I watch the Italian summary and then on Fridays I watch the Spanish recap, and then maybe on Sunday afternoon I watch a game. But that’s it, only six hours a week or something.” He said this without any sarcasm at all.
When they say, they mean:
Lionel Messi: Lebron James
Bocca vs. River: Yankees vs. Red Sox with a dash of Crips vs. Bloods
Media coverage of the Argentine team: Imagine if Dick Cheney had accidently shot Laura Bush in the face, or if there was a sex tape released of Angelina Jolie, Brad Pitt, and Jennifer Anniston. That is the type of non-stop coverage we are talking about here.
Ronaldinho: Michael Jordan (circa 1992)
England: The colonial power which took the Malvinas’ Islands away from us a century ago and then kicked the living shit out of us in 1982 when our military dictatorship decided it would be easier to take back the island and inspire a warped sense of nationalism than actually fix the country. (But that’s ok because Maradona got us our revenge in the 86 world cup.)
Maradona: God
Brazil: The one country in the world that might be better at soccer than we are
GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL!!!!!!!!!!: We scored and this is a good thing
I’m going to the bar to watch Argentina play in the World Cup: I’m going to the bar not to get drunk or bullshit with my friends, but rather to watch the game with a lazer like focus that will only be interrupted by goals or penalties, at which point I will erupt like Mt. Saint Helens.
My Dream Team
While the US has a fairly decent soccer team this year, I like to imagine sometimes what our team would be like if all American children grew up playing soccer and only soccer the way they do here. Here is a short list of athletes that I think would have given the US a special edge on the Soccer Field. (Or at the very least would have been interesting to watch.)
Barry Sanders
Deion Sanders
Walter Payton
Jerry Rice
Isiah Thomas
Sugar Ray Leonard
Lawrence Taylor
Tyrell Owens
Allen Iverson
Michael Vick
Hulk Hogan
Bo Jackson
Ozzie Smith
Charles Oakley
In Goal: Kevin Garnett
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pepito
Joseph Sieben
Hahaha!!!
This is one of the funniest blogs I have read in a long time!! - Were I not in Argentina it might have made little impact, but since I am here it made me laugh non-stop... I am like you and never really been a soccer fan and yet since arriving in Argentina I find myself converted to the omnipresent religion that is football. It truly is amazing to see just how worked up people get about the whole ordeal and the parts about how soccer players are the world´s biggest babies is so true! ... Canada doesn´t have a WC worthy soccer team so I am in the clear when it comes to cheering for the home team! VAMOS ARGENTINA!!! .. ;-) - Joseph