Why football?
No better time to post this then after the World Cup final, I guess.
I have a confession to make. I'm a seventeen-year-old girl and I'm obsessed with football. Or soccer...whatever you prefer. In fact the only reason I'm writing this, is because there are no world cup matches on TV and I have nothing else to do. My friends (mostly other 17-year.old girls and boys) look at me strangely every time I say I can't go out, because there is a football match on and I can't miss it or I'll die. Some girls might even relate to me when I go on about a player’s pretty face, rock-hard abs and strong legs. But they certainly don't quite understand, why I can go on and on about a bad tackle, a missed penalty or wonderful goal. And it's hard to explain it to someone, that doesn't follow a sport with such complete single-mindedness. It's hard to explain why you grin for days after a club - from a city you have never seen and never lived in - wins an important match. It's hard to explain why you sing along to the national anthem, played at the start of a World cup match and your voice is off key and choked up with tears (because you're proud, oh , so incredibly proud they made it this far). It's hard to explain why you scream at the television like the players can hear you over the vuvuzela and the miles separating you. It's hard to explain why you curl up on the floor and cry after a hard defeat.
Where does it come from? This love, this obsession. What makes football so special? How can a ball captivate the souls of billions around the world? How is it possible to relate so much to 11 men that you have never met, that proudly wear the colors of a team that you chose to support?
I'm a teenage girl. I like cooking, listening to music and reading. I'm a bit plump and have never kicked a football in my life. So why does my heart stop when my defenders stop the opponent at the right time, when my midfielders battle to pass and when my forwards push the ball to the back of the net. My defenders, my midfielders, my forwards, MY team. Oh, I know that realistically I have no claim to them. They are their own people, men with lives and families. Men with more talent that I can even imagine. Their feet (and torsos and heads and even their hands) can make me smile, cry, scream and pace.
I don't know why.
All I know is that in that moment, when I'm crying and laughing at the same time, after a goal that had made history, or when all I can do is repeat a mantra in a whisper under my breath (pleaseholdonpleasepleaseholdon), as I scream like a maniac, when the last whistle goes, I am complete. My emotions are unified with hundreds and thousands of people all over the world. We are one. And I have never felt so alive in my life.
The next day takes me back to my ordinary life. That doesn’t stop it from being a football match. I can distantly see the goal, but my path is sometimes obstructed by more than 11 opposition players and sometimes I don’t have 11 teammates to help me. But the schematics are the same…I have to score the goal. There can be bad misses, bad referee calls and harsh tackles. Sometimes there are combinations with your teammates and sometimes you have to make a run for the goal yourself. A draw is not an option in this never-ending game. You can only win or lose. But in the end you just have to play to win. Because everything is football and football is everything.
I have a confession to make. I'm a seventeen-year-old girl and I'm obsessed with football. Or soccer...whatever you prefer. In fact the only reason I'm writing this, is because there are no world cup matches on TV and I have nothing else to do. My friends (mostly other 17-year.old girls and boys) look at me strangely every time I say I can't go out, because there is a football match on and I can't miss it or I'll die. Some girls might even relate to me when I go on about a player’s pretty face, rock-hard abs and strong legs. But they certainly don't quite understand, why I can go on and on about a bad tackle, a missed penalty or wonderful goal. And it's hard to explain it to someone, that doesn't follow a sport with such complete single-mindedness. It's hard to explain why you grin for days after a club - from a city you have never seen and never lived in - wins an important match. It's hard to explain why you sing along to the national anthem, played at the start of a World cup match and your voice is off key and choked up with tears (because you're proud, oh , so incredibly proud they made it this far). It's hard to explain why you scream at the television like the players can hear you over the vuvuzela and the miles separating you. It's hard to explain why you curl up on the floor and cry after a hard defeat.
Where does it come from? This love, this obsession. What makes football so special? How can a ball captivate the souls of billions around the world? How is it possible to relate so much to 11 men that you have never met, that proudly wear the colors of a team that you chose to support?
I'm a teenage girl. I like cooking, listening to music and reading. I'm a bit plump and have never kicked a football in my life. So why does my heart stop when my defenders stop the opponent at the right time, when my midfielders battle to pass and when my forwards push the ball to the back of the net. My defenders, my midfielders, my forwards, MY team. Oh, I know that realistically I have no claim to them. They are their own people, men with lives and families. Men with more talent that I can even imagine. Their feet (and torsos and heads and even their hands) can make me smile, cry, scream and pace.
I don't know why.
All I know is that in that moment, when I'm crying and laughing at the same time, after a goal that had made history, or when all I can do is repeat a mantra in a whisper under my breath (pleaseholdonpleasepleaseholdon), as I scream like a maniac, when the last whistle goes, I am complete. My emotions are unified with hundreds and thousands of people all over the world. We are one. And I have never felt so alive in my life.
The next day takes me back to my ordinary life. That doesn’t stop it from being a football match. I can distantly see the goal, but my path is sometimes obstructed by more than 11 opposition players and sometimes I don’t have 11 teammates to help me. But the schematics are the same…I have to score the goal. There can be bad misses, bad referee calls and harsh tackles. Sometimes there are combinations with your teammates and sometimes you have to make a run for the goal yourself. A draw is not an option in this never-ending game. You can only win or lose. But in the end you just have to play to win. Because everything is football and football is everything.