32 teams, one month, one winner.
I think everyone in the civilized world -- actually, probably everyone in the uncivilized world, too -- knows that. Except maybe for my two co-bloggers. Ha! But I love to make Jacquie and Beth talk about sports. Keeps their minds nimble, and all that.
Who will it be? Brazil? Spain? Argentina? Holland? Côte d'Ivoire?
It doesn't matter, not really. It's the event of it that makes it fun.
Or..... not. Tell me, my lovely and erudite co-bloggers. Does the World Cup mean anything to you? And if it does, well, predictions, please.
I have never been a fan of soccer -- my favorite soccer quote is my Dad's, who says "Soccer is the game of the future . . . and always will be."
I do love the World Cup though. I love the event of it, the majesty of it, well the World-liness of it. Plus, I really really love the flags.
Mostly, though, I love the Côte d'Ivoire team. I love saying Côte d'Ivoire and I love spelling Côte d'Ivoire and I love the exuberance and joie de vivre (which I love saying and spelling too) of that country and that team. They're the Elephants, after all (or, as some might say, Ephalants!).
Word on the street is they'll get nowhere without Drogba, but we'll just see about that.
And in the meantime? USA vs. UK today. As my friend and World Cup blogger Stephen says, "Maybe, just maybe.... "
Funny. We were so very recently discussing sports in our daily family email correspondence, and I had the following to offer:
“If you recall, I'd rather watch burning babies than hockey. Ditto for golf. Basketball is the WORST, the noise of it makes me want to off myself. Baseball is okay because you can just read, and it's easy to know when to look up. Football would be okay if we only had to watch one game a week, but I protest the whole Thurs-Mon monopoly of my husband's attention.”
Now please, don’t panic about the burning babies thing, although it’s a tough one to explain without coming across like an asshole. My husband and I were watching a particularly tragic episode of Dateline in which some man’s poor children perished in fire. During a commercial, we were flipping through channels and I asked: “What were we watching?” and he responded “burning babies”. Later, he switched to hockey, and I simply pointed out that I’d rather watch burning babies than hockey. Hmmmm. I still sound like an asshole. So does he.
Anyhoo, my point here is that nowhere in that whole entire paragraph about watching televised sports did I even recall the mere existence of soccer. So, world cup? Whatevs.
Well, I can say this, I wish I was going to be in attendance, not at one of the games, per se, but in Johannesburg, because you know it’s going to be a month-long party. A month-long very international party.
I want to buy me my own vuvuzela, and see the fireworks, and music, and check out the beaches. Okay, and attend a game or two. I guess. (I'd prefer that to burning babies, for sure.)
And I want Brazil to win.
I know, I know, they are favored to win, so what fun would that be? Well it would be fun, for Brazilians at least. And I must say, they know how to celebrate. When Brazil won the World Cup in 1994, for the fourth time, I was in Rio, and it was something I’ll never forget.
That crazy city, teeming with people, became a ghost town every time the team played that month. No one was out in the streets, but instead crowded around TVs, screaming. And the ending of the final game, winning the penalty shoot out after the game ended 0-0 after overtime? People were losing their minds.
Yes, I’m rooting for Brazil.