The Beautiful Game

I was barely 11 years old when I got my first taste of football. My father made a wager on the German team at the 1998 World Cup in France. I remember I got a t-shirt which had Footix (the mascot) on it. It was quite an experience, sitting up and watching the tournament with my family. I remember worshipping Jurgen Klinsmann, being overawed by Davor Suker, and falling in love with Ariel Ortega. I remember flashes of Baggio's play, Zidane's magic, and Peter Schmeichel. To put it simply, I fell in love with the game.

Since then, I've always tried to be clued into all that's happening with international football. And my father's earlier faith in Germany is something that has carried through. My love for Del Piero and Roberto Baggio encouraged my support for Italy. Inspite of my absolute admiration for players such as Rivaldo, Ronaldinho, Edmilson and the like, I've never been able to make myself like Brazil. They play the 'beautiful game', but I like supporting underdogs. They're usually not the underdogs, in any World Cup they enter.

This year, however, I'm a bit disconnected. I feel like it might not be happening at all. What's most worrying, of course, is that I'm apparently not missing much. All the plays seem to be defensive, the big teams are disappointing, and while Germany is being Germany and destroying the opposition in their first game itself, I think we're all aware that Germany has a tendency to not win World Cups - at least, it hasn't in my lifetime.

I shall be done with examinations soon, and I shall be free to watch this game that is the closest thing to a sporting passion I have. That being said - I hope the bloody tournament shapes up before then. Because if it doesn't, I'm going to find the closest thing I can to something to blame, and shove a vuvuzela or a Venezuela or whatever those crazy things are so far down someone's throat that if I blow it, it'll seem like they're breaking wind.