Let the vuvuzelas blow: soccer isn’t always boring
Fact: Soccer is boring. There is not enough scoring; it’s just
90 minutes of people running back and forth, with the occasional
over-acted tumble and subsequent whining as they try to get a call
from the referee.
Also a fact: All of what I just said doesn’t matter when soccer
is being played by the United States’ World Cup team.
Let the vuvuzelas blow: soccer isn’t always boring
Fact: Soccer is boring. There is not enough scoring; it’s just 90 minutes of people running back and forth, with the occasional over-acted tumble and subsequent whining as they try to get a call from the referee.
Also a fact: All of what I just said doesn’t matter when soccer is being played by the United States’ World Cup team.
There still is not enough scoring for a typical American sports fan’s taste, but when the team that is running around not scoring and falling to the turf with fake injuries is representing the hopes and dreams of a nation, it’s no longer a wasted 90 minutes.
On Wednesday morning, as I was preparing to go to work, I peeked around the corner and saw my 13-year-old son sitting on my bed watching the U.S.-Algeria match. With a loss or a tie, the United States would be eliminated. With a win, they would win their group and move on. I couldn’t leave for work just yet.
I had forgotten that the match (it’s not a game) played on the pitch (not a field) was on live early in the morning. Luckily, because there is very little scoring, the fact that I had missed the first 75 minutes of the match meant I hadn’t missed anything.
My son and I moved over to the living room, so we could watch the contest in high-definition on the big screen. Despite the constant hum of the vuvuzelas – the annoying horn that sounds like a swarm of bees – we turned up the volume, adding to the mood as we both watched the Americans desperately try to score against the Algerians as the clock wound down.
Soccer (OK, football) on this morning was no longer boring. As the clock wound up – what’s that about? – and inched toward the 90-minute mark, the hopes of the Americans looked dim. My son and I groaned at missed opportunities and moved to the edge of our seats at each scoring chance.
This wasn’t some pro soccer match between the Columbus Crew and the New York Red Bulls, this was us (and U.S.) against the world. When a team represents an entire country, not just an energy drink company, the match has meaning.
When the clock hit 90 minutes and the referee announced there would be four more minutes of stoppage time, we had hope. Less than a minute later, Landon Donovan kicked in a deflected shot and my son and I started screaming like drunken hooligans. Well, maybe sober hooligans.
It was a miracle finish – not quite Miracle on Ice Olympic hockey stuff, but as miraculous and exciting of an ending that a casual soccer observer could hope for.
Because it was not yet 9 a.m., my 15-year-old was still in summer hibernation mode as my younger son and I let out our whoops of joy. Our yells roused the older one and we rewound the last couple minutes of the match to let him experience the excitement, even if not in real-time.
Sports and patriotism are a powerful, emotional mix. When the San Francisco Giants lose a baseball game, I am disappointed, but not despondent. When they win, I am happy, but not overjoyed. When the United States wins a match, they are representing a nation, not a millionaire owner or stadium sponsor, so their success or failure seems to mean more.
The last time I was this excited about soccer was when Brandi Chastain scored her game-winning goal against China in the 1999 World Cup. I was at a Giants game and suddenly the crowd started buzzing. Soon, the highlight was shown on the Jumbotron and the baseball crowd erupted when they found out the U.S. had won.
Thirty-something-thousand fans spontaneously chanting “USA! USA!” at a baseball game while watching a videotaped highlight of a soccer match proved how sports and love of country stirs passion.
I loved sharing that moment with a bunch of strangers. I loved sharing this week’s moment with my son even more.
Fact: soccer is still boring, for the most part, because I’m a shallow American sports fan who loves me some scoring.
Also a fact: soccer is not boring if it involves the United States playing in a World Cup match representing me, my sons and all of our countrymen.
Adam Breen writes a blog at http://thebreenblog.blogspot.com and teaches newspaper and yearbook classes at San Benito High School. He is a reporter for The Pinnacle and former editor of the Free Lance.
