Wold Cup is Abbreviated WC and I Like Both

I’m caught. Hook, line, and sinker.

I’m head-over-heels.

I’ve got a fever and the only remedy is more World Cup.

That’s right. Me, the former hater of all soccer, is in love with it. It’s amazing. I want crosses and headers and corner kicks and yellow cards and strikes and flops and ties and vuvuzelas and bald Bradley’s and flags and everything. I want it all.

If you re-read that list you will indeed see I’ve embraced the flopping. Get over it. It’s part of the game just like steroids, USC recruiting, and John Calipari. It happens, now deal. Flops and dives create set plays and 33% of all goals in the 2006 World Cup were scored on set plays. It works and winners play to win.

I used to think soccer was 90-minutes of run and kick; a glorified kindergarten recess if you will. No. It’s incredible. It’s a grueling, heart and gut check 90-minutes of strength and endurance. Goals are created not stumbled upon. I truly see it as “The Beautiful Game.”

Oh yeah, and the US advanced to the elimination stage by winning Group C. NBD. Didya see it? Ya know, the one where keeper-extraordinaire, Tim Howard, outlet the ball to Landon-the-Conqueror who forwarded it to Jozy Altidore who missed but Landon-the-Fearless found the back of the net in the ninty-first minute? That one.

And Landon-the-Magnificent came through. He’s played well throughout the Cup and should continue to do so. An iconic, American athlete, on the biggest stage, in the biggest moment delivered. Hyperbole time sports writers?

I’m not about to follow the English Premiere League and certainly not MLS. I’m not going to collect soccer cards or remember stats. And I’ll undoubtedly never call it futbol. But I no longer hate or fear The Beautiful Game I didn’t know. It just took some patience and understanding (take note far-righters).

So, onward and forward it is for the kickin’ Yanks. This Saturday, go find an American bar with an American crowd get an American pre-noon drink, definitely high-five, and cheer for the red-white-and-blue.

Take heed World, for it’s Dempsey, Bradley, and Howard then go hit the shower.

The Miracle on Grass Isn't Why You Should Watch the World Cup, But Maybe...

In case you live under a rock or in the United States, there's a little soccer tournament starting today in South Africa. The tournament, of course, is The World Cup.

Like many, if not most, Americans, I am not a soccer fan. It does not tickle my fancy to watch 22 men run up and down a field for a 90-minutes then play an arbitrary time period to make up for flopping - excuse me, injuries.

The World Cup is different. As soon as you get the entire world focused on a single event, it's worth watching. It's indeed different for Americans and not something the US is supposed to win. But we love an underdog, right? We still talk about the "Miracle On Ice" and scream for Cinderella's in March. The US team could put together an improbable run and win the thing and Landon Donovan would be deified.

But that's not why you should watch. You should watch because this thing is about pride. National pride is on the line in any given match and if you say you're a college sports fan because "those guys are playing for the love of the game" watch the World Cup. Those guys cry over individual matches. They fight tooth and nail for each ball because they know that this is the World's Cup and to win the World's anything means you're the World's best and what can be better than that? Can you imagine being introduced at a cocktail party to someone, "This is Mitchell, he's on the World's best soccer team." Are you kidding me?

And sure, these guys are going to take some dives and not play "like men" while rolling on the grass, grabbing at their ankles. But they're playing with higher stakes than most athletes will ever play for: a nation's pride.

So America, for one month, let's minimally criticize the flopping, euro hairdos, horn blowing, and fandimonium to just watch. Watch in a pub, have a good beer, and chat up a neighbor. Drop names like Onyewu,  Dempsey, and Altidore. If nothing else you'll have a good excuse for some daytime - the best time - boozing.

And who knows, maybe in thirty years we'll still be telling everyone about the Miracle on Grass?