I don't care if you don't like soccer. My take on The World Cup.
In the spirit of the beautiful game and the upcoming semi-finals and championship game of the World Cup this weekend, I am posting my newest column (which hasn't been posted online yet). I'm also posting this with the original title. Haha. What can I say?
I don’t care if you don’t like soccer. The World Cup has
taken over my household and everyone in it and around it. Daily televised games
are turned on whether I have housework or writing to do – it must be playing in
the background. It has taken hostage of my Twitter account and as well my
Facebook. It holds me in its thrall as I watch nation after nation stride
proudly out onto the pitch and sing their national anthems with a fervor I’ve
little seen anywhere else. I wait impatiently to see the fans in the stands
wear their colors and crazy uniforms signifying love for their team. I hang on
every world those lovely Euro announcers say. The world, at least from what I
see on social media and on TV, comes together for one month in June. Every four
years. They come together for love of a game that holds not enough love in the
country I call my own.
I’ve written before on soccer and how my love for it didn’t
come until I met my husband. Of course, we all know that Hiland was the only
area team to have soccer because we didn’t have football. I can’t count how
many jokes have been leveled at Hiland players because of our “lack” of
American football. Lack? Sad day indeed for those, I think, to not have been
introduced to soccer. Without the beautiful game there would never be words and
phrases like the pitch, set pieces, velvet touch, or “This could be a clever
ball!”
My husband was an
amazing soccer player. He gave up a tryout in the Mexican leagues to come to
the USA permanently and get married. To me. For that, I owe him a love for
soccer like no other. I believe I yell louder than him during games. I get more
angry than him when we lose. I pout in a corner and tweet the night away when I
can’t accept a loss. He knows me and lets me have my time. Then I move on. He
told me that when fall comes, and I have no children in high school soccer,
that he would play on a team so I could watch again. He said, “Don’t worry,
babe, I’ll join a team just so you can cheer again!” All kidding aside, he
knows how much soccer means to our family. It’s a bond that brings us together,
made us fight and have heated conversations, brought tears, and also brought
the greatest joy. We weren’t the family that made our kids play year-round
soccer and do everything imaginable. We felt that would take the joy out of it.
The love would disappear if it was mandatory. These were the right choices as
our kids now move on to bigger and better things, yet retaining that love for
soccer they felt so deeply. All we have to say is, “The game is on!” and
everyone comes running.
The World Cup, as you read this, will enter its final week.
The championship will be held on July 13th and an entire globe will
hold its collective breath as they crown a world champion - not a national
champion. The beautiful game brings people together. It makes fans out of
people that swore a dislike for soccer their whole lives. I believe it’s the
camaraderie that is shown in the fan base, the oneness and singular passion
that bursts through the TV screen. It is also felt on the local pitches, those
patches of green and dust where little feet scrabble and kick. Those feet who
grow up to learn how to bend and weave the ball like magic as it slices through
the air. The net that kicks back with a whoosh to receive the ball and the
scream, as one, of the fans who breathlessly await that long worked for goal.
Those goals that come in very small numbers, because you must work tirelessly
to achieve one. Like life.
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