Saturday, June 7, 2014


The World Cup is going to start next week, and thus will be my every-four-years declaration that I don't care for soccer.

I realize that, as an American, what I just said was a bit of a tautology; I'm American so of course I don't like soccer. Of course, that's not true; plenty of people here in the US like soccer and approximately 1000% of white suburban kids in this nation played soccer between the ages of 8 and 14. Even Major League Soccer is doing...well enough, anyway, that the entity is modestly profitable (by business standards, not crazy-ass professional sports standards) and have slowly expanded over the past few years.

Why bring this up now? The World Cup, of course, where the entire world pins its hopes and dreams on a contest of skill and determination.

I tried. I really, really tried to like soccer. When American hosted the World Cup in the mid-90s, I tried to follow the team and the entire contest. But I just couldn't. I don't need rapid-fire scoring to hold my interest (I enjoy hockey, after all) and I don't need abstracted chess-like strategy stretched out over four hours of beer commercials and NFL self-promotion. I think it's just the combination of low scoring, slow play, non-flashy dynamics, and lack of a home team. But even when it's the World Cup--where the best that soccer has to offer is put on display--I just can't watch it. I'm not invested enough in the sport to bring myself to care.

And that, of course, is fine. Not everyone has to like everything, of course. But it seems quite the shame; soccer seems like the exact sort of thing that is right up my alley, and I just don't enjoy it at all. And after thirty-odd years of trying, I don't expect that to change any time soon. Good on you if you love it, but until the World Cup starts showing commercials involving hot women and dancing bears I'm probably not coming to your World Cup party.

1 comment:

  1. I'm so honored to be your token weirdo. If you ever need to link to someone who thinks dragons are real (albeit extinct), I'm your man for that, too. And now I'll serenade you with some Enrique Iglesias: "I can be your weirdo, baby!"