World Cup Mode

Meditating on the cyclicar nature of life, I had an epiphany about myself. I am on a 4-year spin cycle that peaks for one summer out of four. It seems like a century has passed since the last cycle ended, and now I nervously await the morning of June 9th, 2006, along with millions of other people in the same spin cycle all over the world. That morning I will undergo my quadrennial metamorphosis. It’s strange what happens to me during the World Cup. At other times of the year you can talk to be about elections, sex, war, and basketball, but during the World Cup I transform into a soccer obsessed creature. I don’t howl at the moon or anything, but I am suddenly doing things I would never have done just a few days prior.

Like trying to pronounce Ousseinoh Diouf.

Like looking for the country of Togo on the map.

Like finding out that the song I've been humming all day is actually the Ecuadorean national anthem.



Most major landmarks of my life occur during World Cups. I graduated from college in 2002 Korea/Japan, finished high school in 1998 France, and in 1994 US I was beginning high school. I’ll never forget that World Cup, the first one I ever attended live. Holland defeated Ireland in the Round of 16 in Orlando, Florida and the Irish fans did not stop chanting and cursing the referee the entire match. And then my dad treated me to a sweet Romania-Sweden Quarterfinal in Pasadena that went to penalty kicks. When Sweden knocked in the game winner, I suddenly remembered where I was and who I was. Coming down from my first soccer high, I vowed never to miss a World Cup match. The next World Cup, as an 18 year old High School graduate, I crossed the Atlantic with the singular goal of sneaking into the France-Croatia semifinal. I succeeded, using an overweight Frenchman as a visual obstruction, and got to watch France beat Croatia 2-1 on two goals by defender Lillian Thuran. That night while walking down the Champs Elysses, I was higher than I've ever been on life.

The next World Cup in Korea/Japan was a near catastrophe. It coincided with Final Exams during my last semester at University. Would I tell my professors that I was going to a soccer tournament or should I kill off another already deceased, somewhat fictitious relative? Money was also a factor. Despite the fact that I was working at the number one volume sales Domino’s in the world in Gainesville Florida, my job as a “Pizza Delivery Expert” at Domino’s, just wasn’t cutting it. I masochitically redeemed myself by watching every single match, live. Reminder: This was Japan/South Korea Live (as in the other side of the globe). The games were televised at either 2:30, 5:30, or 7:30, AM. I literally went 39 nights without sleep. When the US stunned Portugal, my friend and I went out into the streets of Gainesville with two giant American flags wrapped around us and tried to start a rally at 7:20 AM on a Wednesday. It didn’t exactly work out as planned, but we did get some people to honk their horns. Except for the fact that the refereeing at that World Cup was atrocious, I won my World Cup Pool by picking Brasil to win, and so I won a thousand dollars.


I have been suffering from soccer-related delusions of grandeur ever since I was a kid. I am starting to come to grips with the fact that my dream of playing in the World Cup is not likely to materialize, although I haven't ruled out training for South Africa 2010. But I'm getting ahead of myself. I must now focus on the next Cup that is just days away in Germany. I have this dreadful feeling in the pit of my stomach, knowing that this month of pure bliss will come to an abrupt end, and I will have to once again begin counting down the 1400 plus days till the next one. But again Im getting ahead of myself. To maximize enjoyment of the World Cup, and probably also in life, one must simply follow the old cliché spoken so many times by so many wise athletes in post-game interviews. Starting with Germany-Croatia on June 9th, my plan is to savor this World Cup one game at a time.