Thoughts running through my mind
In soccer, the early bird would be offsides:
I've been waking up at 8:00 every morning now to catch my full share of soccer, since that is when the first game begins. So far in the tournament, the first game of each day has been rather subpar. This is fine with me. In fact, it usually fits perfectly into my schedule. That first match gives me time to wake up and begin to get excited about soccer while I think about the exciting games that will follow. Today, that first match was The Netherlands vs. Serbia-Montenegro. Both were good teams, but the Dutch style of constantly possessing the ball and just moving it around to eat up the clock (they certainly earned their nickname Clockwork Oranje) makes for textbook but unthrilling soccer. Instead of really paying attention, I just kind of nervously fidgeted about Mexico's impending match. Same plan tomorrow, when the USA game follows a snoozefest courtesy of Australia and Japan.
Obsession:
Everyone has obsessions. At least, I presume so. If not, I'm in trouble. Some people obsess over music, listening to every song or memorizing every lyric. Others obsess over cars, or stamps or cats, or whatever. My obsession is sports. The passion of it all, the colors, the players, the struggles, the battle, the genuine heartbreak and the pure ecstasy just consumes me. The sport that I love the most, the one that gives me faith, hope, and love, is soccer. It is truly the beautiful game, and undeniably the world's game. The simplicity of the concept juxtaposed with the complexity of the strategies is beautiful. It can be as simple or as complex as one wants it to be. I love the unbridled enthusiasm of the fans, and the colorful personalities, and the tradition of it all. (My new personal favorite: exchanging jerseys with members of the opposing team after the match.)
Mexico:
I get the question all the time: "What the hell is up with you and Mexico?" Truthfully, I don't really know. But I love those guys.
Oswaldo Sanchez is my hero for today:
Sanchez is the Mexican goalkeeper, a player who was on the roster as a backup for the previous two World Cups but never saw playing time. On Wednesday his father died before leaving for Germany to see his son play in his first World Cup Match. All of the owners of teams in the Mexican Premier League pitched in to send a private jet to Germany to pick him up, bring him back to Mexico for the funeral, and then bring him back for the match on Sunday. When he got back to Germany on Saturday he decided he wasn't sure if he was ready to play the next day. He announced Sunday morning that he was going to play in the match. I don't know how he made it through the match. He was clearly not at his best, but he summoned courage at the necessary moments and led Mexico to a 3-1 opening win. After the game, he collapsed into the arms of his teammates. Had his father been there, he would have been proud.
A word on trading jerseys:
I quickly addressed it earlier, but not really. I love this tradition. It's pretty original, and it's been going on for quite some time. Maybe, at least to a small extent, this is the reason that soccer players on other teams usually don't hate each other, and in fact get along better than athletes in almost any sport I've seen. Nobody is arrogant enough to buck tradition out of spite for opponents, and somehow, giving someone your shirt takes the edge off the hate you might feel for them. Plus, you get a lot of kickass jerseys from all over the place. Brilliant idea; go soccer guys.
Tomorrow:
The United States plays tomorrow. I have love for them (and my country in general) like nothing else in the world, and it would be great for them to go out there and get a win, just to show that we can play at the top level with any team in the world. I'm getting kind of antsy just thinking about it. Go USA!