Okay, so I’m no major football enthusiast (soccer, but I’m calling it football to sound “authentic”). In fact, I’ll go ahead and say I’m a bandwagon fool when it comes to the World Cup. But I’m no hack either. I played a few years in organized sport in elementary school as most people my age did when they were kids, and I played the inaugural year of the Hibriten High Womens Soccer Team because they were looking for athletes. Did I just hear you snicker? Anyway, I played midfield and kicked the ball around, and I mostly know all the rules so I’m not a complete idiot when it comes to football. And intuitively I knew that Slovakia was looking sloppy in the first half of the 7:30 game this morning, but they were pushing forward enough and New Zealand’s defense was not together. I don’t know how I knew, I could just see it.
But I love, love, love the World Cup. I have the fever. Can I converse about who should take it all this year or how the Italians play a certain kind of ball that is completely different from the South Koreans? No way. I know nothing about the teams, their strategies, their players, the player’s history or which club they play for. Granted, I enjoy listening to the commentators talk about that stuff, but I’m not committing it to memory like some of you folks. It’s a lot like the Olympics to me, and you know how I love the Olympics.
But there is one thing that I love above all else this time every four years…hotties. Seriously, not to sound all teenager, but those boys…there is a reason I could watch them for so long while they don’t score. (Thanks to the Shinners sisters for pointing me toward the Vanity Fair coverage.) And don’t even get me started on the Goalies! Those guys are my favorite. If I could design the perfect man physically, I’d start by moulding him from a goalie – any goalie, really, since I have yet to see all of them play. I don’t play favorites. Yesterday a coworker who is really into the Cup tried talking to me about uniforms, figuring that would be some common ground for us. Honey, I’m way past uniforms…in my mind, I’m not even sure they were wearing clothes!! This must be what it feels like to be a man.
Do you want to know my secret favorite time of the match? Guess…I’ll give you a minute…..Okay, it’s while they are playing the team’s national anthem and the camera man goes down the line and shows the face of each player doing their thing (mouthing the words to the anthem or taking a moment of silence). Oh, and when they walk out holding the little kids hands. Freakin’ adorable. Those two times within the same five minutes are enough to make any girl flustered. Now, I’m not going all WAG or anything, I just really enjoy a good match for reasons other than the game…which I enjoy also, but hottie spotting is a great pastime between goals.