Friday, June 11, 2010

The World Cup: Let's Kick Balls!

It’s time to break out the face paint and the beer, because it’s time for the World Cup! That’s right, the worldwide soccer tournament that happens every four years and probably involves more drinking and rioting in three weeks than the entire 19th century (By the way, why is everything every four years? Why is never anything every three years? Or every eleven?) The World Cup is the greatest sporting event in the world, and frankly I don’t really care about it. Lesser people might be tempted to pretend they love and know soccer to sound sophisticated, but the last thing I want to be known for is being cultured.

I mean let’s be serious for a second here. I am a big a sports fan as there is, but I just never saw the appeal to international soccer. For one thing, there’s not enough offense in international soccer. They score goals about as often as Ricky Martin scores with the ladies. Half of the games end in scoreless ties, and half of the time that is what they want anyway. There is a reason that they celebrate like they cured cancer every time they score: it’s probably harder. Hockey is another low scoring game, but at least the action is fast and there is lots of hitting. Whereas in soccer they just kick the ball back and forth across the middle of the field, and if a player gets within even shouting distance of another player, that player will collapse in pain apparently so excruciating that they stay down on the ground long enough that the grass under them dies.

I mean, I don’t know what goes on in European schools, but if you have ever watched basketball or soccer involving Europeans, you can only assume they spent their elementary school days wrapped in bubble wrap. They are very sensitive to touch. If they are touched, they will fly backward as if possessed by some unseen malevolent force and lie screaming in excruciating pain on the ground. Unless the ref doesn’t call it, in which case they bound up to their feet and begin to argue while limping on the wrong leg. Now, that’s why I actually liked watching high school soccer. Our high school girl’s soccer team ran train on everybody. And I mean that literally, some of those girls ran over people; I was genuinely afraid of at least half of them. They were all nice people, but when they stepped onto the field (or “pitch” if you want to be an anal little dweeb) the part of their brain that has kindness and emotion and sympathy just sort of shut off (I find women in malls have a similar reaction).

Speaking of wussy Europeans, that is the other reason I don’t like soccer. We aren’t very good at it. As a flag-waving, French-hating American patriot, I denounce everything that the Europeans are better at than us, like using bidets. And it’s not just the Europeans; even all those little poor countries dealing cocaine down in South America are better than us. Even the announcers are all foreign .I’m pretty sure that just before the start of the Cup, ESPN just goes around hiring the people with the most ridiculous accents, regardless of whether or not they know anything about soccer.

I mean, in most sports the U.S just dominates. Sure, there are a few Canadian teams here and there, but it’s not like I wake up every morning worrying about what the Toronto Raptors are going to do. But America plays soccer about as well as Hellen Keller plays Pictionary. Of course, that could be because we don’t take soccer as seriously as these other countries; although that is probably a good thing. These places take their soccer a little too seriously, and frankly it scares me. I mean, fans have killed players and refs that have cost them games. They have demolished entire cities over losses (and wins for that matter) and riot like the world is going to end tomorrow. I say we tell these soccer fans that Osama bin Laden in some way will cancel 2014’s World Cup and the next thing you know Osama will have fifty drunken hooligans trying to burn down his cave. This is why the only reason I might care about the World Cup is if America can win a few games. Nothing would make me happier than hooligans rioting their countries back into the Stone Age because we beat them at a silly little game where you can’t even use your hands.

Now, believe it or not, I used to be a soccer player myself, and I did my country proud by being horrible at it. Like every other kid, I was in AYSO growing up. Of course, since I was not the graceful epitome of athleticism I am today, I mainly played defense. And that is only because AYSO has a policy where you have to let every kid play. Although frankly, I would have been fine with sitting out the entire game. All I remember is that it was always ridiculously hot, and the chairs under the tent were way more appealing to me. I played from kindergarten until sixth grade – that’s seven years – and I never scored one goal. Ever. The Cubs have nothing on me as far as droughts go.

Eventually, the coaches never wanting to put me up front led me to becoming a decent defender and goalie. The highlight of my soccer career was in fifth grade, when I made a diving stop on a breakaway to preserve the win. OR at least I think that’s what happened. I might have just fallen down and let the goal through. It happened a while ago, so I don’t really remember. But what I do know is that when the U.S soccer team takes the field, I will know exactly what they are going through. Especially the losing part.

3 comments:

  1. Do you have anything against indoor soccer?

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  2. I personally do not, but after about the fifth broken window, I think my parents did.

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  3. Ha ha that's not what I meant but yeah...indoor soccer is fun :D It's soccer in a hockey like setting.

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