Note to the sport-specific prescriptivists out there: not only am I an American, I live in Texas, where calling any game that does not include 300-pound men in Spandex slapping each other on the ass “football” is a Class B misdemeanor. Seriously. Look it up. I will therefore be referring to the sport played by the rest of the world as “soccer,” because your pantywad is not my jail time, pal.
- World Cup soccer appears to be played by extremely fit and flexible men with incredible stamina (more on this later). They rarely stop running, and when they do, it’s only long enough to kick a ball while spinning sideways through the air or to collide artistically with one or more other players four feet off the ground. As an easily-bored non-sports fan, I appreciate the pace, the spectacle and the fact that the ball is big enough for me to see without my glasses. However, the lack of constant timeouts, fouls, artillery reloading or nap breaks makes sticking to a consistent snack-drink-bathroom plan very challenging. Work on this, FIFA. You could still win me…
HOLY MARY MOTHER OF GOD! WHAT… WHAT…?
- Never mention the word “offside” if you really don’t give a damn; the explanation is invariably a verbal death spiral into a sinkhole of apathetic confusion.
- I’m not certain of the precise rule, but in Brazil, you may not play professional soccer indefinitely without adopting a one-word moniker. Also, “kaka” must mean something entirely different in Portuguese, because…
SWEET NIKE GODDESS OF VICTORY AND ABS! WHO THE…?
- While the rest of the world is preparing to stone assorted referees, the French national team is engaged in a rapidly escalating civil war. One pottymouth player has quit the team and possibly soccer forever, so there. Although the English-speaking press has been charmingly coy about translating his halftime pejoratives, I can read enough French to get the gist, so here it is: “Go fuck yourself, you son of a whore,” which turns out to be modern Gallic parlance for “I surrender.” Meanwhile, Capitan Evra is determined to hunt down and execute the rat who leaked Poopelka’s rant to the media and the manager on the receiving end will soon be searching for asylum somewhere in Morocco…
MON DIEU! QUOI? VIVE LA FRANCE! VIVE LA REPUBLIQUE!
MADRE DE DIOS! GRACIAS! GRACIAS!
- Which brings me, albeit slightly out of breath, back to my original point. After painstaking research, I can confidently state that soccer players in the aggregate are 67.8% hotter than any other population of professional athletes. Going simply by physique, that number rises to a staggering 234.5% – yes, I did the math. Yes, during a match. Brazil and… and… someone else. I don’t know. Shut up – hey! GOAL! SHIRT IS COMING OFF, BABY! YES! YES!
I think I may love this game.