I’ve never really been into soccer… sorry… football. Actually, f*ck it, I call it soccer.
My soccer experience was limited on the field… sorry… pitch… to a season in the Under 6 minus Zs, where I was tried in every position except as part of the goal posts, which I would have been very good at if I was a bit taller. The games consisted of a manic scrum of kids swarming around the ball like cranky seagulls around a hot chip, randomly kicking at air, the other kids’ ankles and very occasionally the ball. Passing and positions were non-existent. I was quite happy being left right out.
My soccer career later moved to the stage, where I had a religious experience when cast in a high school play about football hooliganism called Zigger Zagger. I was the “Football Fan Vicar”. From hazy memory the role involved pontificating biblical passages infused with soccer references. I wasn’t converted. To either soccer or religion.
DISCLAIMER: I admit I know less than zero about the tactics of soccer, but I can’t deal with the pathetic milking-a-penalty-by-rolling-around-on-the-ground-in agony-after-not-even-being-touched-before-jumping-up-five-seconds-later-shit. Maybe Jesus does perform soccer miracles after all… they say he saves, so why not? FIFA should introduce a rule that If a player is on the ground, they should be euthanised on the pitch, like they do with those poor Melbourne Cup racehorses. That would make it interesting and stop the bullshit penalties.
Soccer is apparently called the “beautiful game”. NFI why. Passing the ball backwards sometimes right back to the goalkeeper has me yelling “FFS THE GOAL IS THAT WAY!! Then there are the nil-all draws. Boring AF. It’s the equivalent of watching a cricket test that ends in a dull draw, without the bad acting.
Also, WTF is it about taking maritime distress signals… flares… to a game of soccer… or worse, where fans are only watching a game on a big screen thousands of kilometres away from where the game is actually being played. The other night quite a few people were injured at live viewing sites around Australia, including a woman who received an involuntary haircut thanks to a flare-wielding moron. Who was the first person to bring a flare to a soccer game… was it a mistake? Did it happen to be left over in their bag after some nautical voyage and they thought my team just scored, so why not?
I may not understand soccer at all, but I really love the passion (obsession) displayed by fans (apart from the flares). You really can’t compare it to any other sport.
My Croatian-born wife and I were lucky enough to be in Croatia during the last few games of the 2018 World Cup and it was amazing, an incredible experience. We watched the semi final against England with family from Sydney in an Italian restaurant in Makarska… as you do, which was heaving. Such a great atmosphere. When Croatia scored their two goals and eventually won, the place absolutely went off. The one table of English types quietly gave themselves the red card and skulked away before the full-time whistle. Unfortunately Croatia’s loss to France in the final led to a more subdued atmosphere, but the pride in their team was palpable. So glad we were there to experience it.
We also witnessed the passion when we lived in Munich during two World Cups. When Germany won in 2014, fans poured into the streets, singing and dancing and letting off fireworks and we actually witnessed the rare sight of Bavarians smiling. It was stark contrast to the 2018 World Cup when Germany didn’t make it past the group stage… tumble weeds and crickets… and business as usual for the cranky Bavarians. It would have been the same this year.
I’m still not converted to soccer, but I’ll be definitely watching the final on December 18, sans flares.
©Steve Williams 2022