As an American it’s my right to question soccer. Hell, if it weren’t for my daughter playing, I’d probably pay even less attention. But it’s hard not to be intrigued by the World Cup. So much passion. So much smack talk. All for a sport that’s as simple to play as checkers.
In America, we like our sports tough, and complicated. Ever try explaining (American) football or baseball to a foreigner? I reckon the closest sport we play (other than actually…soccer) is basketball. Same concept – except that using feet is illegal. Also, we like sports that require a lot of specialized equipment. Not just a ball.
In America we call it soccer – we don’t care if everyone else calls it football or futbol. You can even call it soccer if you want, it doesn’t matter to us. We just don’t like the sport as much as you do so we get to call it whatever we like.
Do we want our boys to whip some ass over in Africa? Hells yeah. If they won, we’d throw them the biggest tickertape parade the world has ever seen. Donald Trump will be the grandmaster. The players will be on cereal boxes. They’ll cut ribbons at fancy places with those big scissors. They’ll model underwear. But come fall, they’ll be forgotten as our attention turns to our sports.
Also – hey Frenchies, stop complaining about the Vuvuzelas. In the US, our athletes endure air horns, cowbells and Thunder Sticks. And I’m not mentioning what they endure in Philadelphia. The Vuvuzela is an indigenous South African concoction. And you’re in South Africa. You don’t go banning a cultural staple just because you can’t sleep. Don’t use that as an excuse for your scoreless draw.
A scoreless draw.
There’s a reason we don’t like soccer.