It was disappointing to see the U.S. eliminated from the World Cup.
At least they made it to the so-called knockout round, although the result was still a gut punch.
Announcers suggested the team was in great shape for the next time, pointing to the abundance of youthful players.
They talk about the next competition as though it were around the corner, not four years from now. Perhaps it’s considered a relatively brief period for those young athletes, but it’s basically past my life expectancy.
Wait four years? I’m hoping to make it to Monday Night Football.
And it’s four years assuming the U.S. qualifies. They didn’t make it to the last World Cup, so this appearance was the first in eight long years.
With the U.S. out, I’m left trying to take whatever joy I can find in the remaining competition. It helps to have my son Chris watch the competition with me since he’s a gifted soccer trainer and knows the game.
The problem is, my friend Stan from New York is still visiting, and while Chris enriches the telecasts, Stan tends to tarnish it.
He questions why the games are being played in a tiny country in the Persian Gulf instead of a more developed nation like the U.S. “They even spell Qatar wrong,” he laments.
He also complains about the common practice of feigning injuries. “I’m not sure if they’re trying to seize possession, be awarded a penalty kick, or collect an Oscar,” he objects.
He’ll point to the custom many players embrace where they’d collapse after a collision and cry out in distress. It’s similar to the sort of agony an expectant mother might exhibit during childbirth.
But if they don’t succeed in a reward, they’ll jump to their feet and continue play as though there was never any in the first place, a scenario often confirmed by video replay.
It’s called “diving” or “flopping” and thankfully, it’s not a strategy U.S. players tend to employ.
“When an American soccer player is involved in such a clash,” Stan argues, “he either shakes it off or winds up in the hospital.”
That’s exactly what happened to soccer star Christian Pulisic when he was injured scoring the goal that resulted in a U.S. victory over Iran.
“It’s called integrity!” Stan affirmed.
Stan says he prefers the American version of football where there are no theatrics.
He directed particular criticism toward the broadcasters. “I have great difficulty understanding what they’re saying,” he moaned. “They would be a lot easier to comprehend if those announcers didn’t come from a foreign land.”
“That foreign land you’re referring to,” Chris explained, “happens to be England.”
“They still don’t speak good English,” Stan declared.
Chris suggested Stan could use a little help with his own articulation.
“I never got no complaints from my English professor,” Stan argued.
“Where did you go to school?” Chris inquired.
“Brooklyn College,” he replied.
“That explains it,” Chris countered “As far as I know, Brooklynese is not considered an official language.”
“It should be,” Stan insisted. “It’s the native tongue in New York, most of Florida, and half the population of Joisey.”
Sadly, the contention will continue until the final game, or when Stan returns home.
Erdos is a freelance humor columnist. him at [email protected].
