Our American problem with soccer remains an enigma, although understandable in its reasons. In the 7/3/06 issue of The New Yorker magazine, Jeffrey Toobin wrote in Un-American Activity about the dilemma of Americans not embracing this world sport. “Soccer fans in American are evangelical in their fervor, yet cultish in their number,” he stated. Sums it up about right, I’d say. Listening to the radio the other day here in Northwest Ohio, the announcer attempted to ride the World Cup buzz wave for his next talk show segment, imploring his audience to “Stay tuned for some talk about real football…not that other one where men run around in skimpy shorts.” Ouch.

Could it be that we can’t relate to Football (aka soccer) because it isn’t manly enough? That somehow macho only works with beefy sweathogs in pads and helmets, whereas World Cup is essentially prancers in synthetics? Anyone who has watched the last few World Cup matches would argue that soccer, much like rugby, can easily get physical at times. I guess “manly” means wearing a cup so someone can stomp you in the groin without complications. Real men (soccer players) take it au natural. (For those not watching World Cup, this refers to Britain’s striker Rooney, who red-carded out of the match when he “unintentionally” stomped on the groin of an Portugal opponent).

A Toobin further stated, “Soccer is the Canada of American sports, viewed less with contempt than with indifference,” so I’m not sure what it will take to turn our attention and pension for spending millions on sports paraphenalia, one sure sign that America embraces a pasttime. It’s one thing to see an overweight, American armchair quarterback wearing a jersey emulating No. 7, Ben Roethlisberger. Not sure I really want to see the same beer-bellied wonder wearing a different No. 7, that of Mr. Beckham.

We also have a warped sense of the phrase “World Champions.” Every year we hold a World Series in baseball and crown the survivor “World Champion,” yet they are all American teams save one token Canadian representative. We call our dominant football team who wins the Super Bowl “World Champion” in the same ignorant attitude that America=World, since only American teams compete. Of course, our foreign political agenda seems to sprout that same attitude, so this shouldn’t be a surprise.

It’s not that I personally care if the rest of American figures this out. I’ve discovered the grace and excitement of the sport, so I’m happy following it as best I can, content in my un-American appreciation of a true world sport. In fact, there’s admittedly something of an allure precisely because it’s less appreciated here, resulting in a decided specialness that embraces all that is world soccer. One downside, of course, is struggling to find a sports bar to watch World Cup on the tele in a town where Big Ben Roethlisberger was born, raised, and is still worshipped, and where every third car around here sports some sort of Nascar iconic sticker or decal. With soccer, again according to Toobin, “…likely to remain roughly as popular as it is now: somewhere behind hockey and ahead of bowling” I guess it’s not yet time to buy futures in soccer bumper stickers and bobble head dolls. At least, not if you’re an American living in America.

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I’ve been following the matches online until today when I finally found time to watch a few matches on the tele. Being an American, of course, “football” means something entirely different to me than to the fans of this most engaging spectacle. And the World Cup fans are one reason why watching the matches is a lot of fun.

Part of why I think this competition captivates most of the world, excluding most Americans, is that it’s about country and honor. Yes, these barely protected field soldiers are in the same class of multi-millionaires as our American football heroes, yet when one’s country’s pride is on the line, they seem to play with the passion and enthusiasm of pure sport. Soccer, or football for you non-Yanks, at this level does have a purity that is not often seen in professional sport, and usually something reserved for Olympian endeavors. Of course, national pride is only part of the equation: players performances in the World Cup can mean a huge increase in fat contracts offered by professional teams not to mention lucrative endorsements. But, I still want to think that the World Cup is about country first, individual second.

I captured these shots while watching the start of the Germany-Sweden match this morning. What energy these players have! It made me tired just watching, and no doubt contributed to an extra slink-down or two on the sofa. I planned to watch the second game today between Mexico and Argentina, and tried to time my dashing out for a bite of lunch and some Scrubbing Bubbles (it’s housecleaning day…odd contrast to the fancy footwork of football, but in my world quite necessary) so that I’d be back in time for the start. Unfortunately, a detour at the library made me about 10 minutes late, during which of course each side scored a goal. Sigh. But it’s a high-energy game so far, so I’m sure I’ll see more scoring action. With this football you have to pay attention and enjoy when they do score, since they do so less frequently than American football.

America doesn’t appreciate world football like it should, but it’s only a matter of time before that happens I think. Years ago the success of our women soccer team should been enough to make this sport a mainstay, and for while we too had the fever nation-wide. The game does have a strong youth following in this country, but seems to dwindle after that. A talented athlete in this country’s college system can do so well economically playing baseball, basketball, or football that you can’t blame them for choosing those paths. Hopefully, that will change.

Watching these World Cup matches has definitely made me a fan of this fluid, pure game. Lots of green grass, mano y mano, and a lot of running. A LOT of running. And my prediction for this year’s World Cup final? Germany and Brazil, and Brazil winning 4-2. Now if I can find my bookie’s phone number, maybe I can profit by this clairvoyant moment…

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