Ole! Ole, Ole, Ole! Ole! Ole!
When I was in second grade, I signed up to play soccer without telling my parents. I remember going home and trying to tell my mom what I had done, but since I had never heard of soccer before, I‘m sure I wasn’t particularly clear. Nevertheless, I started playing soccer and went on to play right through high school. I ended up pulling the whole family in with me – my brothers and sisters all played, my dad was a coach and later a referee, and my mom became one of the league commissioners. I considered playing in college too, but the two practices I attended convinced me that it would be a relentlessly miserable time. Maybe some day I will write about my life as a right wing, but the reason that I have been thinking about soccer these days has nothing to do with childhood nostalgia. No my friends, I am gearing up for the 2006 World Cup. Fortunately, immigration has increased the ranks of soccer fans in America sufficiently to force coverage of the whole tournament. I don’t remember seeing games at all before 1990, and I don’t think it was just because I didn’t have cable in college, but here is what I remember:
1990 World Cup - Winner: West Germany. The first world cup I remember watching took place in Italy. I was at the beach with one of my friends, and we went to a bar because her boyfriend wanted to catch some of the games. I had been such a soccer fanatic for 10 years before college, but during college, I lost track of it all together. If he hadn’t wanted to see the games, I probably never would have known they were on. As was often the case for the Americans, they lost all three of their opening round games and were eliminated from the tournament. I did get to see my first Ireland versus Italy game, the game of the great Catholic regimes, and although I was rooting for Ireland, I must have known it was a lost cause given that they were playing the home team. I don’t remember much else about the tournament, and according to Wikipedia that is because it is considered the “least spectacular and most cynical” games ever.
1994 World Cup - Winner: Brazil. When the 1994 World Cup rolled around, I was ready. My sister and I were living in Philadelphia, and I was unemployed but I was bringing in enough on unemployment to pay my rent, car payment, insurance, and bar tab. I had to add another expense to the ledger however, because the World Cup was what prompted my sister and I to finally get cable after living without it (and being regularly mocked about that fact by friends and family) for almost a year and a half. Unfortunately for my sister, she was still working, but on the days she was off we would drive to a bar somewhere, ask the bartender to put the game on (because no one had it on in those days), and nurse a few beers while we watched the game. The US team got into the tournament on a home team bid, and were completely outclassed by their opponents, although they did manage one win. My sister and I were glad when they were eliminated, because we hated having to root for a team that was so pathetic.
The highlight of the 1994 World Cup for me was the Italy versus Ireland rematch at the Meadowlands. Thousands of New Yorkers that probably couldn’t care less about soccer packed the stadium to root for the teams of their distant ancestors. A lot of the time when I see a huge crazy crowd on TV, I am just as happy to be sitting on my own couch and in my own house where the line for the bathroom is reasonably short. However, I would have loved to have been at that game. Ireland won, which I took as a personal victory in honor of my distant ancestors.
1998 World Cup - Winner: France. The HP and I will always look back on our 4th of July weekend watching the World Cup as one of our favorite weekends of all time. We were staying at my parents’ house in DC and commuting for drinking sessions with our friends (two friends of the HPs from high school and their girlfriends) in Alexandria. We would watch a game or two with my dad, and then get on the metro and ride to Alexandria to watch a game or two with our friends. We spent the whole weekend either drinking, watching TV, riding the metro, or doing any of those three things in combination. I was glad that the HP could enjoy something that I liked so much.
By the summer of the next year, the other two couples had gotten married, and we and one of the other couples had each had a child. We would look back to that care free drunken weekend and just shake our heads that things could have changed so dramatically in such a short time. In retrospect, that crazy weekend was perfectly timed. It established a point in time that we could look back to and say “That is how we used to be. That was what we did before we had kids.” It was as much fun as we ever had together, but when we compare it to our current lives as responsible (heehee) parents we never feel regret for how things have changed.
In sporting news, the US team once again failed to win or even tie a game and scored only one goal in 3 games, I believe the worst showing by a home team in World Cup history. I actually left work early one day to catch one of their games, and they were so bad, that I considered getting my work clothes back on and heading back to the office (considered, but really, I can’t think of anything that the US team could have done to make me take such an extreme action). We threw our support behind Denmark and the Netherlands because we liked to say their players’ names and because their games must have been on in our more sober moments. When France finally won by beating Brazil, I think we were happy for them, because that was back before everyone patriotic had to hate the French.
2002 World Cup – Winner: Brazil. The 2002 World Cup took place in a completely different world, and not just because 9/11 had occurred. We had gone from zero to two kids, we had gone from Maryland to Kentucky, and we had gone from enjoying the games while getting sloshed on margaritas to rising at all hours just to get a glimpse of them. The games were hosted by South Korea and Japan (who totally hate each other so I’m not sure what the organizers were thinking – probably something along the lines of, “Well they kinda look alike, let’s have them share”).
The game I remember best was the USA versus South Korea, which was televised live at about 2:00 am Kentucky time. I had gone to sleep on the couch with the TV turned on to ESPN. I figured if I subconsciously woke myself up, at least the game would be on the TV already to remind me why I was on the couch. I did wake up during the game, and what I saw on the TV was shocking to me. Like 99.99% of other Americans, I had no idea that the South Koreans were still hopping mad over Anton Ohno winning (or stealing) the gold medal over South Korea in the Salt Lake City Olympics. Like most Americans, the moment the coverage of that race concluded, I put it out of my mind and never considered it again. I’m sure my ignorance was based on the fact that I (like most Americans) had no idea what was going on in those short track speed skating events. I don’t even know when it became an event, but I’m sure it only became a televised event because NBC thought we might win a medal. Eric Heiden and Bonnie Blair and Dan Johnson never did that sort of skating, but apparently a number of famous South Korean athletes do.
As I woke up on the couch and groggily turned toward the TV, I beheld a scene that was reminiscent of some sort of frenzied political rally. It reminded me of the descriptions of the Taliban executions that took place in stadiums during their reign of terror. Every person in the stands was wearing red and was on his/her feet screaming and waving a red flag. I was quickly jolted out of my bleary-eyed state in fear that I might witness some sort of mob violence against the USA players.
Early morning awakening is one of my least favorite activities, and when it is combined with extreme mental distress, I turn into a quivering mess, complete with heart palpitations and gasping for breath. Instead of the excitement of the game, I felt anxiety toward what might happen. The game ended up as a tie, which was probably the best possible result (although my high school soccer coach informed us that tying is like kissing your sister). I was so wound up I had trouble getting back to sleep, but of course I eventually did, and when I woke up the next morning, I knew that their probably had not been any danger at that game. What I had witnessed was simply a cultural difference: South Koreans root for their country with patriotic fervor; once they have concluded their business at the concession stand, Americans root for their country with the exact amount of fervor that will allow them to avoid spilling their beer.
2006 World Cup - Winner: ???. I eagerly await the matches of 2006, which start on my daughter’s birthday and will unfortunately wind up before the HP gets home on leave in July. Of course the US team qualified in such a manner as to wind up with the most difficult draw in the tournament. I will root for them again, since I have seen some of their games leading up to the tournament and I have seen a few hopeful signs. Unfortunately, the US team (in my mind anyway) seems to have a funk about it, like they are moving in slow motion compared to the other teams. They seem so careful, so sluggish, as if the need more time than the other teams to figure out what they are going to do next. I’m sure if soccer was a bigger sport, experts from around the world would have been hired to try to find a fix for the team. After all, if we were ever shut out in the Olympics, I can guarantee that there would be Congressional hearings on the matter.
1990 World Cup - Winner: West Germany. The first world cup I remember watching took place in Italy. I was at the beach with one of my friends, and we went to a bar because her boyfriend wanted to catch some of the games. I had been such a soccer fanatic for 10 years before college, but during college, I lost track of it all together. If he hadn’t wanted to see the games, I probably never would have known they were on. As was often the case for the Americans, they lost all three of their opening round games and were eliminated from the tournament. I did get to see my first Ireland versus Italy game, the game of the great Catholic regimes, and although I was rooting for Ireland, I must have known it was a lost cause given that they were playing the home team. I don’t remember much else about the tournament, and according to Wikipedia that is because it is considered the “least spectacular and most cynical” games ever.
1994 World Cup - Winner: Brazil. When the 1994 World Cup rolled around, I was ready. My sister and I were living in Philadelphia, and I was unemployed but I was bringing in enough on unemployment to pay my rent, car payment, insurance, and bar tab. I had to add another expense to the ledger however, because the World Cup was what prompted my sister and I to finally get cable after living without it (and being regularly mocked about that fact by friends and family) for almost a year and a half. Unfortunately for my sister, she was still working, but on the days she was off we would drive to a bar somewhere, ask the bartender to put the game on (because no one had it on in those days), and nurse a few beers while we watched the game. The US team got into the tournament on a home team bid, and were completely outclassed by their opponents, although they did manage one win. My sister and I were glad when they were eliminated, because we hated having to root for a team that was so pathetic.
The highlight of the 1994 World Cup for me was the Italy versus Ireland rematch at the Meadowlands. Thousands of New Yorkers that probably couldn’t care less about soccer packed the stadium to root for the teams of their distant ancestors. A lot of the time when I see a huge crazy crowd on TV, I am just as happy to be sitting on my own couch and in my own house where the line for the bathroom is reasonably short. However, I would have loved to have been at that game. Ireland won, which I took as a personal victory in honor of my distant ancestors.
1998 World Cup - Winner: France. The HP and I will always look back on our 4th of July weekend watching the World Cup as one of our favorite weekends of all time. We were staying at my parents’ house in DC and commuting for drinking sessions with our friends (two friends of the HPs from high school and their girlfriends) in Alexandria. We would watch a game or two with my dad, and then get on the metro and ride to Alexandria to watch a game or two with our friends. We spent the whole weekend either drinking, watching TV, riding the metro, or doing any of those three things in combination. I was glad that the HP could enjoy something that I liked so much.
By the summer of the next year, the other two couples had gotten married, and we and one of the other couples had each had a child. We would look back to that care free drunken weekend and just shake our heads that things could have changed so dramatically in such a short time. In retrospect, that crazy weekend was perfectly timed. It established a point in time that we could look back to and say “That is how we used to be. That was what we did before we had kids.” It was as much fun as we ever had together, but when we compare it to our current lives as responsible (heehee) parents we never feel regret for how things have changed.
In sporting news, the US team once again failed to win or even tie a game and scored only one goal in 3 games, I believe the worst showing by a home team in World Cup history. I actually left work early one day to catch one of their games, and they were so bad, that I considered getting my work clothes back on and heading back to the office (considered, but really, I can’t think of anything that the US team could have done to make me take such an extreme action). We threw our support behind Denmark and the Netherlands because we liked to say their players’ names and because their games must have been on in our more sober moments. When France finally won by beating Brazil, I think we were happy for them, because that was back before everyone patriotic had to hate the French.
2002 World Cup – Winner: Brazil. The 2002 World Cup took place in a completely different world, and not just because 9/11 had occurred. We had gone from zero to two kids, we had gone from Maryland to Kentucky, and we had gone from enjoying the games while getting sloshed on margaritas to rising at all hours just to get a glimpse of them. The games were hosted by South Korea and Japan (who totally hate each other so I’m not sure what the organizers were thinking – probably something along the lines of, “Well they kinda look alike, let’s have them share”).
The game I remember best was the USA versus South Korea, which was televised live at about 2:00 am Kentucky time. I had gone to sleep on the couch with the TV turned on to ESPN. I figured if I subconsciously woke myself up, at least the game would be on the TV already to remind me why I was on the couch. I did wake up during the game, and what I saw on the TV was shocking to me. Like 99.99% of other Americans, I had no idea that the South Koreans were still hopping mad over Anton Ohno winning (or stealing) the gold medal over South Korea in the Salt Lake City Olympics. Like most Americans, the moment the coverage of that race concluded, I put it out of my mind and never considered it again. I’m sure my ignorance was based on the fact that I (like most Americans) had no idea what was going on in those short track speed skating events. I don’t even know when it became an event, but I’m sure it only became a televised event because NBC thought we might win a medal. Eric Heiden and Bonnie Blair and Dan Johnson never did that sort of skating, but apparently a number of famous South Korean athletes do.
As I woke up on the couch and groggily turned toward the TV, I beheld a scene that was reminiscent of some sort of frenzied political rally. It reminded me of the descriptions of the Taliban executions that took place in stadiums during their reign of terror. Every person in the stands was wearing red and was on his/her feet screaming and waving a red flag. I was quickly jolted out of my bleary-eyed state in fear that I might witness some sort of mob violence against the USA players.
Early morning awakening is one of my least favorite activities, and when it is combined with extreme mental distress, I turn into a quivering mess, complete with heart palpitations and gasping for breath. Instead of the excitement of the game, I felt anxiety toward what might happen. The game ended up as a tie, which was probably the best possible result (although my high school soccer coach informed us that tying is like kissing your sister). I was so wound up I had trouble getting back to sleep, but of course I eventually did, and when I woke up the next morning, I knew that their probably had not been any danger at that game. What I had witnessed was simply a cultural difference: South Koreans root for their country with patriotic fervor; once they have concluded their business at the concession stand, Americans root for their country with the exact amount of fervor that will allow them to avoid spilling their beer.
2006 World Cup - Winner: ???. I eagerly await the matches of 2006, which start on my daughter’s birthday and will unfortunately wind up before the HP gets home on leave in July. Of course the US team qualified in such a manner as to wind up with the most difficult draw in the tournament. I will root for them again, since I have seen some of their games leading up to the tournament and I have seen a few hopeful signs. Unfortunately, the US team (in my mind anyway) seems to have a funk about it, like they are moving in slow motion compared to the other teams. They seem so careful, so sluggish, as if the need more time than the other teams to figure out what they are going to do next. I’m sure if soccer was a bigger sport, experts from around the world would have been hired to try to find a fix for the team. After all, if we were ever shut out in the Olympics, I can guarantee that there would be Congressional hearings on the matter.
posted by Shannon at 10:45 PM
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