My Cup Runneth Over

I don't know if the word "obsession" really covers it. It only happens every four years, so the build up grows and grows in intensity until it reaches its boiling point. Then, I enter my happy place and everything in the world is wonderful for a fortnight. Now I know you're probably thinking, "This man loves the Winter Olympics." Well, you're wrong. As much as I appreciate watching the Canadian Women's Curling team in action, I could care less about the Winter Olympiad. For that matter, I don't care that much for the summer version either. The quadrennial event I am speaking of is, of course, the FIFA World Cup. The one sporting event in the world that throws my entire world into complete upheaval. I don't even get this geeked up about March Madness (please don't tell Frank Martin that, as I am afraid he will jab me in the throat).

For the record, my wife does not understand my obsession with the World Cup, even having been through it on two previous occasions. She didn't understand why I was completely LIVID in 2202 when I woke early to catch the final live from Japan/South Korea only to find a church program on instead. By the time the local ABC affiliate played the final match "live" at 2:00 PM, I already knew the score. I have maintained a fairly consistent boycott of that channel for the past eight years. But you have to forgive her for not understanding this obsession of mine, because my friends don't really understand it either. Nor do my co-workers. I'd even hazard a guess that my own family doesn't even understand how obsessed I get with World Cup. My mother will tell you she understands, but she doesn't realize that it goes much farther than repeated watchings of "Gole`" and a Walter Zenga poster on my bedroom door during high school. In order to help you understand why I spend approximately 9 hours a day watching soccer during a World Cup year, let me present to you, the reasons I love World Cup 2010.

The Announcers
I rarely say nice things about the Worldwide Leader, but ESPN scored a coup when it went out a hired some of the best soccer play-by-play and color guys from England to work the Cup. Not only are they knowledgeable about the game, but they are much more entertaining than the Americans they've used in the past two cups (sorry JP Dellacamera, not sorry to you Eric Wynalda). Americans saying things like "it's nil-nil here in Rustenberg" or "he's just looking forward to lacing up the boots and getting back on the pitch" just doesn't sound very cool. My personal favorite so far has been, "That was a very tricky run, but he just ran into a cul-de-sac there." I also like that British announcers, much like Simon Cowell, are brutally honest. I like when they say things like, "That was an absolutely dreadful shot." I also like that ESPN has gone out and gotten some good studio people as well. Former World Cup participants Alexi Lalas (USA), Steve McManaman (ENG), and Ruud Gulitt (he's Dutch) have had some good insight and seem comfortable in front of the camera. However, they're not above being themselves -- witness McManaman after the England/USA tie, "If Slovenia or Algeria can get a win tomorrow they'll have the group by the ba...the bollo....the..the bull by the horns." Good work, Steve!

Gratuitous David Beckham Shots
Even though the world's most recognizable player is out of action due to a a torn Achilles tendon, that doesn't mean he isn't getting his face time on camera. He was shown on the England bench at least a half dozen times during the England/USA match. I also like that the announcers feel the need to point him out and gush over him, "There's David Beckham. Injured, but still with the team in spirit." I seriously kept waiting to hear one of them say, "There's David Beckham on the England bench. He's looking concerned at the moment. And absolutely gorgeous."

The Nicknames
When it comes to international play in anything, teams don't get teams names. Your team name is "USA" or "Germany" or "Denmark." None of these really has the oomph of say, the Yankees, or Celtics, or the Patriots. But soccer-dom has it's own brand of nicknames. Some of them are simple and based on a country's flag or jersey, like "Los TriColores" (Mexico), "Il Azzuri" (Italy) or "Les Bleus" (France). Some are inspired by their national team's style of play, like The Netherlands, who have for decades been known as "Clockwork Orange" for their precise style of play. Brazil, five time cup winners, are called "Selecao," the Selection. Spain has long been nicknamed "The Best Team To Never Win the World Cup," but at least they're the favorites going into this year. Which means they'll fail. African countries have the best names -- The Indomitable Lions (Cameroon), The Super Eagles (Nigeria), Les Elephants (Ivory Coast), The Black Stars (Ghana), The Desert Foxes/Les Fennecs (Algeria) and Bafana Bafana (host nation South Africa). I draw the line at "Socceroos" (Australia) because it's just silly. Come on, how can you not cheer for a team that calls themselves The Indomitable Lions. Or the Super Eagles for that matter. Even Bafana Bafana is fun to say. Sure beats the hell out of Jayhawks.

Ties
While the rest of the sporting world sees ties as a bad thing, in the group play stage of the World Cup, they occur. And they occur quite frequently, much to the chagrin of the American watching. I don't mind ties. Sometimes ties can be good, and everyone's a winner. Slovakia and New Zealand tie 1-1, most people say it's stupid and boring. The underlying story, however is that both teams score a historic point in the standings. Slovakia scores its first goal and point in its first Cup as an independent country. New Zealand scores its first goal and point ever in the World Cup in its first trip back since 1982. Sometimes ties are bad, as they show us that maybe some teams aren't as good as people think they are -- I'm looking at you France and Uruguay (and your 0-0 tie).

Germany Good
Whenever there's a big international soccer tournament of some note, the six other people in my life who follow soccer will always ask, "Who do you think is going to win?" My usual response is "Germany." Why shouldn't it be? '86 Cup runners up, '90 Cup winners, '98 Cup Semi finals, '02 Cup runners up, '06 semi finals. After beating the aforementioned Socceroos 4-0 to open their tournament, Germany looks good. I am picking them to win it, and Spain retains their unfortunate nickname.

Italy Bad
To open their defense of the World Cup, the 2006 Champions, Il Azzuri, looked like Il Crapola. They needed a gift from a goalkeeping gaffe to earn a tie with Paraguay. To use an English commentators term, Italy played "uninspired" for most of the game. I am looking for them to fall on their face sometime this cup. And the problem is that I used to like the Azzuri. Seriously. But lately, I've noticed that the more I watch Italy, the less I like them. They seem to be a team that thrives on diving, whining about perceived fouls, and cheap shots. You need look no further than a slow-mo replay of a free kick where an Italian striker jumps with a Paraguayan defender and reaches back and takes a swing at him in mid-air to see why I dislike the Azzuri. Playing tough is one thing, but playing dirty is another.

Diego Maradona is Back
And that means I can rekindle my intense dislike for him. I can't stand Diego Maradona. All I will say on this matter is that my ideal World Cup would involve Argentina failing to make the knock out round, and Maradona getting a ball kicked in his face. I haven't forgotten 1986 Diego.

I Am Off Work
I don't have to go back to work until the day after the World Cup Final on Juy 11th. Assuming Baby Allie holds out until later that week, I will have plenty of time to shirk my responsibilities and watch soccer. My wife sees this as a bad thing, I see it as GLORIOUS!

Now, that is pretty much all my thoughts on why I love World Cup soccer. I could write an entire blog about the awful goalkeeping we've seen so far this Cup, but it wouldn't make sense to the three people who regularly read my blog. For now, I will sign off, because in just 6 short hours Honduras vs. Chile will be on. . . and who wants to miss that!?!?!

Mow Better Blues

Remember when you were a kid and you just couldn't wait to be old enough to shave every day? (or put on make up, or shave your legs, or whatever other "adult" level task you were looking forward to) And remember how you finally reached that time and then you were all like "Yeah, I get to shave every day!' , and after some more time passed you realized, "Hey, this shaving every day stuff is kind of time consuming. And sucks"? And then you started to let your facial hair grow a little more between shavings, and then you had a beard going and you woke up one morning and found yourself looking like that guy from The Hangover, Zach Gafilix.....Galfilikaki...Gandalfilinda....Grizzly Adams? I sure do. And that's kind of how I feel about my lawn.

Let me begin by saying that my current abode is the second home I've purchased. The first home I bought was a condo. It was nice and homey and made me feel like some kind of feudal land owner, but as anyone who's ever lived in a condo can tell you (back me up, Terry) it's not the same as owning your own house. First off, they mow the lawn for you. Secondly, if something bad happens, like you get carpenter ants in your wooden deck, they fix it for you (back me up again, Terry). That is, after all, why you pay homeowners' dues. When I did finally make the move from the condo to my current home four years ago, one of the attractions was. . .

MY VERY OWN YARD

For me, the novelty of this lasted about six months. Six sweaty, gruelling, miserable months. Then I was over the whole, "I have a yard thing."

The pain began when I found a lawnmower, a nice YardMan -- self-propelled, too, at a garage sale. It was marked for $175 dollars. The lady selling it let me start it up and try it out a bit to make sure it worked. I offered $125. She gladly accepted, and I was on my way with my (sort of) new mower. I drove all the way home with a smile on my face, so pleased with the great deal I had gotten. I was totally oblivious to the fact that this green and yellows thing in the back of my mini-van was really a rolling, self-propelled, self-bagging gate to Hell.

Before I go much further, let me say that I am not opposed to hard work in general, or yard work in particular. Growing up, I did more than my fair share of things around the house. As the youngest, I was the last to get a job, so I had several extra years of mowing my parents' lawn. Really, I did a lot of the mowing, tree-trimming, etc. because my brother "worked on the computer" doing data entry for my dad's business. Since my family reads this blog, and since these events happened some 25 years ago or so, I'd just like to point out that my brother was actually playing games on the computer, not "doing work." He once told me, "The work takes me like 15 minutes. The rest of the time I play Wizadry." That's right, Fred, you paid Steve good money to earn enough experience points to move his 14th level Elven Cleric up to level 16. When you think about it, that's like getting double paid. But that's water under the bridge. Thanks to my brother's shenanigans, I mowed the family's one acre plot quite a bit. The difference then was that we had a riding mower. I got on, put on my Sony Walkman headphones, popped in my favorite RATT cassette, and the mowing was done in no time and with very little effort and/or pain.

Nowadays are a drastically different. The drudgery of following along behind the mower is not only time consuming, but mind-numbing at best. The thing I hate most about my yard (after the weeds of course) is that it is shaped weird. I live on a court, so my house has a lot shaped like a piece of pie. The front is the pointy end. It takes all of 20 minutes to mow on a slow day. The problem is the backyard. Since the front yard is the pointy piece of the pie, that means the backyard is the crust side of things. With pie-shaped pie, I enjoy the crust part because it is the most delicious. In pie-shaped yard mowing, it is a horrible part. Because the house is on the lot, too, the backyard has a fat part, then a skinny part, and then a really fat part. The really fat part of the yard is the worst. After mowing this prime piece of fat-skinny-fat real estate, I am usually soaked with sweat and my back hurts. I've often contemplated getting a riding mower now that I have a yard, but I've come to realize that it might actually take longer to mow with a riding mower because of all the twists and turns. I'd also like to point out that in addition to mowing one's own yard, one is also responsible for weed-eating one's own yard, and picking up dog poop in one's own yard.

However, like shaving (or putting on make up for some of you), mowing is a necessary evil. So there I am once a week, toiling away behind my now semi-self-propelled mower keeping my grass at a uniform height and cursing continuously under my breath. I've tried popping in the ear plugs of my iPod loaded full of my favorite RATT songs to listen to while I mow, but the mower is so loud I can't hear the iPod that well. My only saving grace is to finish up and come into the house and see my son, Lukas. My son who is always so glad to see me, and who rarely fails to tell me "Dad, the lawn loosk good." My son who will some day in the near future be mowing my lawn for me. Mowing the lawn while I do hours of "work" on the XBox.

Until next time, Excelsior true believers!!!