I was all ready to write up a long post about what I perceived as a ridiculous comment from a U.S. soccer player about the comforts of staying at Ramstein Air Force Base in Germany for the World Cup when I noticed that he plays for an English side when he's not World Cup-ing it. So it's not like this guy doesn't have a passport or something. And maybe you can't get Dorito's and Reese's peanut butter cups and Playtex tampons in Reading. I can relate to that.
Anyway, my close examination of the quotation led me to throw out the post and scrap what would have been my first-ever blog rumination on sports. But here I am trying again, group sports in general not being my area of expertise--or, let's be honest, interest--in any meaningful way. My poor godfather still shudders when he remembers watching me play basketball as a child. The best thing about basketball for me was having the chance to whistle the Globetrotters' theme while I dribbled. The fire of sport, she was not in my belly.
But I have to say that living in Europe did make me marginally more interested in group sports. During the last World Cup, I got to see how football fever has the power to stop work dead. I still remember running down to the pub below TOL to watch an important match or two. Chip's work held parties for key contests, and we would ride the tram over to take part. Everybody was into it, and watching the tournament was as much a social event as anything.
Needless to say, we're not experiencing that same "Stop the world!" feeling living here. Life continues as usual, The Onion aside, and every news story about the World Cup has to have the obligatory reference to U.S. disinterest in the whole proceedings.
It feels different, somehow, or more personal to cheer for a "small country" like the Czech Republic. That's why I couldn't be sad when the Czechs mopped the floor with the Americans in the first round. The only thing that upset me was how badly the Americans played. Embarrassing. Thank goodness in the last World Cup--the one in which I watched match after match with friends of all nationalities while drinking the best and cheapest beer in the world--we Americans could hold our heads up. This year I don't know anyone besides us who is even interested enough to be ashamed.