The World Cup is finally here (and actually it started a few hours ago). I’ve been captivated by soccer since about 2005. ESPN 2 started showing the UEFA Champions League around then, and it was on right when I came home from high school. I’d walk in, cook up some buffalo wings and watch the game from start to finish. It would go by quickly (rarely will a soccer game go longer than two hours), fed me right into Law & Order and PTI, which got me to dinnertime, which is the most important time of the day. (And for the nerds wondering when I did homework, the answer is I didn’t. Only rarely did I spend substantive amounts of time doing homework at home, and that was for like research papers, which were 3 times a year. Everything was done in school. Wait, my parents could be reading this. Scratch those last thoughts: I only did homework in high school)
I always enjoyed those afternoons, even though I never really understood the game at the time. I just knew I loved the passing and chemistry of the European clubs (Barcelona especially) and how the great ones always knew the play five seconds before it happens. I loved the fact that there were no commercials that stopped the action. I loved the fanatical crowds (Eagles game times 1000, Cavs crowd times infinity). I loved the pageantry and respect each of the players had, even though you could clearly see they did not like each other. The only thing worth hating was the incessant flopping and fake injuries (try to merge Vlade Divac flopping ability and Vince Carter’s embellishing of the most minor injuries in the Celtics series, then sprinkle in Cuba Gooding Jr. and his fake crying and you have every overreaction to the smallest amount of contact ever). But all of this was just a surface level understanding. I didn’t know many of the players, teams, histories etc.
Then the World Cup in 2006 happened and blew my mind. I was captivated and enticed like A-Rod when he’s at the lip-gloss store. I consumed as many soccer matches as I could. I was disappointed by the USAs effort, especially after how well they played against eventual champion Italy. I enjoyed Ghana’s captivating run before they were slaughtered by the mighty Brazilians. I watched the Maxi Rodriguez goal live and erupted. I relished in the elder-statesman Zinedine Zidane and how he controlled every match France played, just by his presence (unnecessary head butt notwithstanding. Though to be fair, I probably would have done a lot worse if he insulted my mother). I loved the drama of a shootout to determine the champion. I couldn’t wait until the next World Cup.
Since then, I’ve done my best to consume everything I possibly could about soccer. I’ve adopted an international country to follow in addition to the United States (Ivory Coast, solely because of Didier Drogba), a favorite player (the exciting Brazilian Robinho who plays for Barcelona. I call him Quaker Oates because he’s instant offense), and a favorite league (Spanish La Liga). I don’t have a favorite club yet, even though I love the aforementioned Barcelona and AC Milan. I just don’t want to be one of those guys who jumps on an elite team (like all those Lakers fans that have magically appeared in Williamstown, New Jersey since the 2009 playoffs). Soccer is easily the third best sport behind football and basketball and well ahead of baseball (just completely unwatchable in the regular season) and hockey (which has made a late surge: thank you USA-Canada Olympic hockey matches and the improbable Flyers 2010 playoff run).
Which brings us to the cusp of the World Cup. I haven’t had anything substantive to root for since the Eagles destroyed my fragile soul back-to-back weeks in January. I had to suffer through the Sixers and their no-playing-defense, disjointed rotations, awkward half-court sets, Elton Brand, Eddie Jordan and contested Andre Iguodala 19-footers with 17 seconds on the shot-clock (and they could still blow the number 2 pick in the draft), its June baseball (and the only thing more irrelevant than June baseball is May and April baseball. Wake me up in September thank you), the Flyers were good, but c’mon. My quarterback was traded (Hail to the Redskins!), my favorite athlete has had at least three different moments in the last year that make you ask “What the hell is he thinking?” (Iverson), and I still haven’t been hired to run the Sixers basketball operations (I’m serious, I sent in a resume, they haven’t called back, which is an outrage). I need this World Cup.
And it should be a good one. Argentina’s Lionel Messi is ready to break out as the world’s greatest player (An aside on Messi: He is so fun to watch. He’s small but he can do everything on the field: facilitate, score, push the ball, slow it down, possess, everything. I think the highest compliment you can give to a soccer player is a guy who can control every game, just with their presence. They aren’t scoring a ton or doing the kind of stuff that gets you on SportsCenter, but in the end, they always seem to come out on top. We saw the effect the best player can have in 2006, where Zidane was the best player in the tournament and nearly willed France, who wasn’t the best team at the time [Brazil was] to a championship)
England and America are playing each other in one of the most anticipated games ever. ESPN/ABC has broken out the NFL-caliber advertising for this one (and the less we see Chris Berman, the better). The hype has reason, as England and the USA have history (the American Revolution, the War of 1812, one of the biggest upsets in WC history, as the USA beat England in 1950), the USA is legitimately good (Landon Donovan has proven to be a world-class player, Tim Howard is one of the goalies in the world and Oguchi Onyewu’s tenacity has made him a fantastic defender), and England is trying to fight that choking, disappointing label with one of the five best players in the world, Wayne Rooney (top five guys, in order: Messi, Cristiano Ronaldo, Rooney, Fernado Torres and Kaka). The USA won’t win barring superhuman efforts by Jozy Altidore, Donovan and Howard, but they could tie. And with a weak Algeria team (65th in the Soccernet Power Index) and mediocre Slovenia squad (35th), anything short of getting out of the group is a bigger embarrassment than Heidi Montag’s singing career, marriage, face, etc.
But they aren’t championship contenders. There are probably 3 top contenders: Brazil, Spain and Argentina. I like two big sleepers: Ivory Coast (biased pick obviously, but they have one of the best goal scorers in the world in Drogba, who is apparently going to play after breaking his arm, and they can get out of the group of death, edging out Portugal and joining Brazil in the knockout round) and Italy (a Spurs-like group of veterans who don’t go away and could, via their defense, find their way in the final eight or further. Then again, with most of their players Betty White’s age, they could completely flop). Then there’s a muddled group of good teams that could do something, but you’re not entire sure: Netherlands, England, Uruguay, etc.
Brazil should win it. They are the most talented top-to-bottom, point, blank, period: they do have the best goaltender, Julio Caesar, two of the best defenders Lucio and Maicon, top forward Luis Fabiano, Quaker Oates Robinho and a deadly counter-attack that’s enchanting to watch develop. And for anyone who saw the Confederation Cup final versus United States knows that when Brazil turns it on, it’s like watching a swarm of tween girls react to seeing Justin Bieber: a never ending wave.
But who wins it is secondary to the event itself. Soccer is truly the beautiful game. It’s an international showcase. It’s sweeping this nation once thought to be to soccer what Ron Artest is to making music. It’s the best tournament in the world, point blank period. The train has arrived at the station. All aboard the soccer express.
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