This from the Philadelphia Enquirer sums up my feelings:
More Americans should watch the World Cup. If you're still part of The Resistance - doing what you believe is important work on behalf of God and Country to ignore the event and fight the globalization of the sport - you're missing out.
Most of the time, our collective anti-soccer sentiment is justified. Here at home, we're exposed to the MLS, a weak product of insufficient entertainment value. The best professional soccer gets played in Europe, a continent we've long suspected is run by clove-smoking pacifists and closet communists. Unless Europeans adopt the death penalty and start driving gas-guzzling SUVs to curry favor, it's unlikely we'll trust them or embrace their favorite pastime.
The World Cup, though, is different from everyday soccer. For starters, the quadrennial spectacle encourages fans to consume lots of booze and swathe themselves in their respective national flags. That's our sort of bash. If there's anything at which Americans excel, it's getting blind drunk in the interest of jingoism. We've been the world leaders in inebriated patriotism for decades. U-S-A, U-S-A.
Alas, we are not the world leaders in soccer or futbol or whatever it is you want to call the sport where the players stubbornly refuse to pick up the ball despite having arms and hands and working opposable thumbs (except on throw-ins, of course). Entering the 2010 World Cup, the United States, the most powerful and influential nation on earth, was ranked 14th by FIFA, the sport's international governing body. Chanting "We're No. 14" lacks the lyrical appeal of "We're No. 1" and often fails to intimidate opponents. (We'll see how Algeria responds Wednesday when the Americans try to advance with a win in the third and final match in group play.)
The fact that we don't dominate the sport and likely never will is a turn-off for some Americans. That's exactly the wrong way to look at the World Cup. It is our lack of supremacy that actually makes the affair so enjoyable. It's counterintuitive but true.
While fans from other nations sweat every moment and end up crushed if their country doesn't win it all, we're all acutely aware that no team with a player named Donovan will win anything significant. The U.S. team is inadequate relative to the top competition, and so there's no real pressure on the players or us. It's liberating. It frees us up to enjoy the party we crash every four years and make fun of the other guests while we dance with their women.
There's ample opportunity for mocking others at the World Cup. If you haven't paid attention yet but you're into that sort of thing, the Argentines are a good group to check out. They're incredibly skilled. They also have some of the longest, craziest hair you'll ever see, which makes some of them look the Euro trash terrorists who tried to take over Nakatomi Plaza in Die Hard.
Even better, they're coached by Diego Maradona. He used to be one of the best players in soccer. Now he's little more than a volatile swear-word loving narcissist who's desperately clinging to what's left of his celebrity. He's sort of like the Argentine version of Ozzie Guillen - if Ozzie wore shiny suits that look as if he bought them on the cheap at an MC Hammer/IRS tax-evasion auction.
At least Argentina has played well. Some of the other traditional powers have struggled at times. Spain lost to Switzerland, which was a tough thing to do since the Swiss hate to battle anyone and probably would have rather the game ended in a tie. The English side embarrassed its fans with two lackluster games to start group play, and the defending-champion Italians were shamed by their draw with always underwhelming New Zealand. Plenty of material there.
Then there's France, which had an epic meltdown that included a team mutiny when the players refused to practice after the captain got in a tiff with the coach and trainer. You can find the video online. It's hilarious. At the end, the trainer stormed off in a huff, took the whistle from around his neck, and threw it as far as he could (which wasn't very far). It couldn't have been funnier if he had been wearing a beret and then kicked a giant wheel of cheese or, failing that, Nicolas Sarkozy.
But here's the best part about the World Cup: No matter how new you are to it, you can still pass yourself off as an authority. During casual conversation, preferably at a pub where futbol is being shown, say things like "match" instead of "game," "nil" instead of "zero" and "keeper" instead of "goalie." Remind your friends that the clock counts up rather than ticking down and that the players get "sent off" not "ejected." Presto: you can claim you've been into the World Cup forever without anyone knowing the difference since the number of international soccer experts in the States is equal to the number of people who understand quantum physics or how Lady Gaga became famous.
For extra pitch cred, periodically scream out that someone was offsides or that the ref really botched a call. No one will call you a liar.
