You may have noticed the recent trend in American sports fandom. I don’t know exactly when or where we got on the bus with the rest of the world, but no one’s happier about it than me. (Oh, except maybe professional American soccer players, ESPN and BW3s everywhere.)
As an example, today I unsuspectingly went to my regular breakfast bar-and-grill on this typical Friday morning to order an ordinary toast and coffee from the usual server. Now, on any other Friday at this time, the only other customers besides me would be a couple senior citizens poring over their newspapers. Not today though.
Before I even stepped inside, I was hit by the whiff of testosterone, the glow of the 36” flat screens, the rumble of blood coursing, and the inarticulate grunts of a room full of male twenty-somethings.
The cause of this great commotion? Oh, yes, my friends: soccer.
Now, not to be the type of person who brags that I liked [insert band name here] way before they were famous. . .”
When it comes to soccer, I totally did.
Judging from a quick scan of the bar patrons, I figured that I had been lacing up cleats before most of those guys could even pronounce Pelé, let alone know who he was. And not only did I play, I was a regular little elementary school all-star. I could tend goal; I could run fullback, halfback, or wing. And I could do it left- or right-handed. I still have Our Lady of Perpetual Help’s trophy from the 80s. Now there’s some street cred for ya.
And for years I’ve been a fútbol fan on the down low, lamenting the conspicuous absence of soccer from American broadcasting in spite of its wild popularity the world over. (I mean, really, folks. . . all these years golf gets network air time but no love for soccer? Well, TV fat cats. . .it's about damn time.)
Inevitably I’d praise the merits of soccer to disinterested Buckeye fans during football season, only to be shrugged off with dismissals somewhere along the lines of: “Pfffft. Soccer? Soccer’s for pansies.” (Adopt a deep, dumb-guy jock voice for full effect.)
I cannot begin to tell you the satisfaction I’m enjoying watching soccer finally get its day in the sun, and knowing that a little, dribbling pansy has emerged in the heart of every red-blooded, face-paintin', foam finger-wavin' American male.
I think I earned the right to say I told ‘em so.
So if you want to get on board the new sports craze and pass as an authentic soccer fan, follow these 12 easy tips.
Add comment