Football--
This has been the year of the World Cup hosted by Germany. You would have to either be an American or be living under a rock to have missed this. We have been trying to follow the competition despite the fact that, as Americans, we understand nothing about the game. By watching every match that we could, we have learned a few (very few) things and in the process have developed a thorough appreciation for the athleticism involved in running up and down the field for two 45-minute halves, maybe more if overtime is involved, and managing to "handle" the ball without touching it with your hands at the same time. I had no idea that it was possible to direct the ball with such finesse and accuracy using the head or the shoulder or the thigh. These are motor skills with which I totally fail to identify but which are nonetheless admirable.
As Americans, our personal stake in the outcome of the competition was rapidly eliminated so we were free to root for whomever, which generally meant that we were on the side of whichever country we were in at the moment. We were in France to cheer for Les Bleues when they defeated Spain (for whom we had cheered when they won the European Cup competition.) We were in Italy to cheer for the Azzurris when they defeated Ukraine. Both times, the victory was celebrated by much cheering and drive-by horn-honking, leaving no doubt as to the winning team. We were also in Germany for their game against Italy. We fell asleep before the extra-time game was over, but the silence in the night told us all we needed to know about who won that one.
It´s hard for Americans to understand how seriously football is taken in the rest of the world. It´s so much more than the World Series, the Final Four or the Superbowl. All it takes to establish instant rapport is to mention something about the national team. The desk clerk or the bartender is immediately on a closer footing with us, and we are no longer just those American tourists. Or French tourists: We were stopped at a traffic light in Germany after the defeat of Germany that determined that the final match would be Italy and France. The German truck driver in the next lane leaned out of his window and yelled "Allez France!" and smiled and waved. I returned the wave, happy to be part of the scene, at least for a moment.
This has been the year of the World Cup hosted by Germany. You would have to either be an American or be living under a rock to have missed this. We have been trying to follow the competition despite the fact that, as Americans, we understand nothing about the game. By watching every match that we could, we have learned a few (very few) things and in the process have developed a thorough appreciation for the athleticism involved in running up and down the field for two 45-minute halves, maybe more if overtime is involved, and managing to "handle" the ball without touching it with your hands at the same time. I had no idea that it was possible to direct the ball with such finesse and accuracy using the head or the shoulder or the thigh. These are motor skills with which I totally fail to identify but which are nonetheless admirable.
As Americans, our personal stake in the outcome of the competition was rapidly eliminated so we were free to root for whomever, which generally meant that we were on the side of whichever country we were in at the moment. We were in France to cheer for Les Bleues when they defeated Spain (for whom we had cheered when they won the European Cup competition.) We were in Italy to cheer for the Azzurris when they defeated Ukraine. Both times, the victory was celebrated by much cheering and drive-by horn-honking, leaving no doubt as to the winning team. We were also in Germany for their game against Italy. We fell asleep before the extra-time game was over, but the silence in the night told us all we needed to know about who won that one.
It´s hard for Americans to understand how seriously football is taken in the rest of the world. It´s so much more than the World Series, the Final Four or the Superbowl. All it takes to establish instant rapport is to mention something about the national team. The desk clerk or the bartender is immediately on a closer footing with us, and we are no longer just those American tourists. Or French tourists: We were stopped at a traffic light in Germany after the defeat of Germany that determined that the final match would be Italy and France. The German truck driver in the next lane leaned out of his window and yelled "Allez France!" and smiled and waved. I returned the wave, happy to be part of the scene, at least for a moment.
posted by Al and Linda @ 1:35 AM
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