World Cup Fever

I'm not really a soccer fan. Since I left the field crying at the age of five, I've never looked back on the sport. When I went to camp in Uruguay two years ago, I had to pretend I knew something about it, as none of my new South American friends wanted to talk Reds or Vikings. Don't get me wrong, I don't depise it, I'm just a virgin when it comes to rules. Then I married a Brazilian girl. Things changed. To impress my father-in-law I had to be clad in team colors (Green, Yellow, and White). I had to root for Corinthians (Sao Paulo's state team). And even though the Reds are having the best season they've had in some time (keep your fingers crossed), I must get excited for the World Cup. I've been studying up, watching tapes, learning the history. All I can assess is that this guy is pretty damn exciting to watch:


For the next three weeks I will be an ex-patriate. I will pray every night for the U.S. to lose. I will pray even harder for the demise of the Argentines. We just recieved a care package from Brazil that was filled with everything from chips, whistles, and panties emblazoned with the flag. Monday will be a holiday in our home. Next Sunday will be like Christmas. And when the Brazilians emerge victorious? I can't think of a day that is comparable. You don't have to go to work down there when the games are on. That's how big it is.