World Cup obsession

Ok. I am not a sport’s lover. I think the only thing worse than kicking around a ball is watching someone else kick it around. A waste of time! I never understood those guys who just can’t get enough. There must be something wrong with them, right? The greater the fan, the less my esteem is for them.

Needless to say, when I heard this was a world cup year, I braced myself for the worst. More French divas, righteous indignation, arrogance, all the worst things you can imagine. But to my surprise the French team melted! Yes, the higher you think you have climbed, the quicker you fall to rock bottom. Such lack of grace! Finger pointing! Public scandals. rrrruuhhha

Anyway that’s about the time I started paying attention to this cup, and discovered la Roja: Torres, Iniesta, Xavi, Villa, Puyol and the gang. I discovered for the first time that soccer can be entertaining and worthy of attention. The speed, the grace, the elegance of this Spanish team has brought art to the game. I am amazed at David Villa’s fancy footwork, also Puyol’s ability to back flip over another player and make a head butt. Mindboggling. Really.

As I was drawn into La Roja’s game, I became hooked. I didn’t miss any of their games, watched interviews on internet, and investigated their backgrounds. I wanted to know everything about them. One of the things I love about this team is they are both modest and fun loving. They don’t tend to get angry, scowl, demand privileges, and they seem to be close to their fans and grateful for the opportunity they have been given. Moreover, they are gracious to the opposing team

Tonight I realized what obsession was. I left home at 8PM to go watch the game at my neighborhood café and found that it and about every other café in town was closed. How could I have forgotten? It is Sunday in Metz, and everything is closed. Damn! I ran home, cursed the day I got rid of my TV, quickly tried to find the game on my computer or even my cellphone (to no avail), and then desperately went back out in a thunderstorm to find some/ any place open watching this game. Also I watched nervously my watch, lest I miss something important.

I did find someplace open near the station, and a whole large screen TV to myself, as the French are just not interested since their team is gone. Literally I was on the edge of my seat. Granted, I don’t understand soccer. I don’t know what yellow and red cards are and when someone gets the right to make a corner kick. Besides, that offside rule is impossible to grasp. I don't think I'll be looking up the rules either. But all in all I understood this game. Most of the time Spain was attacking and Holland was successful in thwarting their attempts to make a goal. I think in the two hours I watched, with two periods of overtime to break the tie, the Spanish tried at least 50 times to score, and every time the didn’t I got more and more nervous. Once in a while, the Dutch did get the ball and ran to the other side of the field. It seemed they would make the goal. My heart beat harder and harder. I had to use all my force to keep myself from screaming. I know the experts must say this was a good game. Such passion mixed with frustration. When Spain finally scored near the end, it was catharsis. I felt like crying. Game over, the medal and trophies given, I never felt such pride for a team and a nation. If only I were in Madrid tonight. I hope they are enjoying the win and it brings the people closer together.
Rontay