Yes, World Cup 2010 South Africa began today, and so did the stress upon me, the lone ambassador of soccer to the Jolley and Vernier families, as well as to the staff of ProFormance Physical Therapy, the surrounding community, and most of the region of Eastern Washington. I’m not complaining, but it isn’t an easy job.
I laughed pretty hard during the 1989 movie Uncle Buck when John Candy, as Buck, asks “Does my hat bother you? Because some people get angry at the sight of it.”
Don’t think I’ll be able to tie that old movie quote to the current topic? You obviously don’t know how ADHD works. Watch.
In my family are several who don’t simply ignore soccer, not caring about the teams or leagues, but actually hate soccer, and become angry at the very sight of it being played. See how I did that? I pity you people with your totally predictable brains. Maybe there’s a pill you can take to give you ADHD so you’ll suddenly see the connections between all things.
Returning to the topic, when the World Cup begins, I feel the lonely and confused stares of friends and family upon me. It’s time for me to step up again and explain to them the frightening sporting spectacle to which their televisions are now beholden.
If I could introduce an average soccer-ignoring American to soccer with my choice of any soccer league, tournament or competition, I certainly would not choose the World Cup! My favorite team, The Royal Arsenal of London, began last season by out-scoring their opponents 22-8 in the first five games. Did you hear that? That’s an average of six goals total per game! Then comes the World Cup. The only time most Americans can be bothered to watch a soccer match. There aren’t nearly as many goals even though these are the same players scoring every week professionally. The logic is painfully simple: if you can win seven games in a row, you’re the world champion. If you screw up even once, your World Cup dreams will burst like the fragile soap bubbles floating in the summer air.
Then comes “They never score, there’s no real action. All the injuries are fake. I don’t get the offside rule. Didn’t 96 fans die in 1989 during the Hillsborough Stadium disaster in England?”
Lately, I’ve changed my approach. During all the years that I’ve been an American soccer fan, I’ve had to analyze and understand sports, what makes a sport interesting, even addicting to its fans, and why it is Americans don’t “get” soccer. I’ve suffered this because, for some reason, the people around me feel that somehow I owe them an explanation for liking the world’s most popular sport.
Here’s my new approach, America: you already understand soccer! Do you understand offense and defense in basketball? If so, you can coach a soccer team, because they are identical! Do you understand the hook or slice, as in golf or baseball? Then you already know the different ways that a ball can be kicked to get the pass or shot on target! Did you know that football, baseball, and soccer are all addictive to their fans for the very same reason? First semester psychology: the random reward! A first down, touchdown, base hit, home run, or goal doesn’t happen during most plays. Most attempts at scoring in all these sports end in failure. But sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they come from nowhere. Sometimes it all clicks and the scores start pouring in. It could happen at any moment, and that’s the addiction. Like slot machines in Vegas. So don’t peer down your horn-rimmed spectacles at me, Mr. Football or Baseball Fan. You suffer the same addiction as I. There is no distance between us.
Earlier today, in typical fashion, Uruguay put all eleven players in defense against the high-scoring and very talented France team. I was at ProFormance Physical Therapy in Pullman, exercising, balancing, stretching, and breaking scar tissue while the match played on their wall-mounted HDTV. I had heard a few comments from the staff about all the diving and fake injuries they expected to see. I had something to say about that, but I held my tongue. The game soon provided all the evidence I needed.
Doing reps on the hip sled, I looked up at the screen to see the referee show a red card and eject one of the Uruguayans, as a French player lay still in the grass, in apparent pain. Troy, my brilliant and handsome knee therapist, said in somewhat cynical tone “Ha. You just watch, he’ll be up and doing back flips in two minutes.”
“He darn well better be!” I said aloud, sitting up as I finished my last set of leg presses. The downed French player? Bacary Sagna, right fullback for Arsenal.
The staff stood to watch the replay, ready to laugh at an obvious flop. What they saw had them gasping and covering their mouths. ”My God! Is it broken?”
They say when you take a hit like that, and both bones of your lower leg are broken, the snap can be heard for two blocks. Sagna was in a lot of pain, but his leg was intact, likely he was able to lift his foot from being locked in the turf at the last second, or maybe the tackler pulled back at the last moment to minimize impact.
“Divers” deserve the match suspensions and bad reputations they get, but I’ll take a fake injury any day.
Recent Comments