This past weekend I enjoyed what could only be deemed as an orgy of sports and loved (for the most part) every minute of it. Now, I’m not just talking about any type of sports. I’m talking about the sports that the good old U S of A could care less about. While I did catch 3 Yankee games, for the most part I spent my time watching football, I mean soccer, and hockey and you know how popular those are with MUS (Mainstream United States). Here is a run-down of how I spent my Saturday and Sunday:
Saturday
8:45 AM – I arrive at Kinsale Tavern to watch England/Paraguay and enjoy a few pints of Guinness for breakfast. The bar is packed and there are many Crosses of St. George in the crowd (I have one on myself) though there is no chanting or singing. England wins one nil as Paraguay heads a wicked David Beckham cross into its own net. Many people will talk for the next few days about how bad England played and how tired they looked. Regardless, they lead Group B with 3 points.
11:00 AM – 12:30 PM – I play 2 on 2 football, I mean soccer, with 3 new friends that I met at the pub at Carl Schurz Park. We work up a good sweat and work up a thirst for more beer. Within 5 touches of the ball I am craving an organized game so badly that I almost cry. I have flash backs to my traveling team years and envision a not so distant future where I am playing on an organized team again. No food is yet in my system.
12:30 – 1:05 PM – Back at Kinsale to watch Sweden/Trinidad and Tobago. More Guinness and still no food. I leave at halftime to get Jessie some Advil and a heating pad as she awoke with a huge pain in the neck. I can say for certain that it’s not me.
1:10 PM – Upon returning to my building, I bump into Fritz, a porter who is sweeping the steps out in front, who comments on my shirt. He asks, “Did you watch the World Cup this morning buddy?” and we proceed to strike up a convesation about all things footie. Soon it veers into a discussion about our footie past. It turns out that not only did he play, he still plays (he seems to be in his 40’s) but that used to play for the Haitian national team. Who knew? What I do know is that we’ll be trading scores and quips for the rest of the month. Sweet.
1:15 – 2:00 PM – After I get back from the errands, I sit on the couch, play doctor (the real, not the kinky kind) and watch the rest of Sweden/Trinidad and Tobago which amazingly ends in a draw. The goalie on T&T is ridiculous and I have no idea how Sweden doesn’t score 20 goals. I also finally eat something – a small grilled cheese sandwich which tastes delicious.
3:00 – 5:00 PM – Argentina/Ivory Coast is on TV and I’m on my couch watching it. I also flip back and forth to the Yankee game but they are losing and I’m not happy about it so I try not to pay too much attention. Argentina withstands a late Ivory Coast charge to win 2 -1. I have now seen 4 out of the first 5 World Cup matches and am feeling pretty pleased with myself.
5:15 PM – Jessie and I take a walk around the UES. We wind up going to dinner at Jasmine Garden, a Thai restaurant, near our apartment. The waiter notices my England shirt and comments on the game – “Yeah Beckham!” We talk footie for a bit and later in the meal he brings me a second beer even though I didn’t ask for one. Before I can say anything, he says “For the World Cup – go USA!” I shake his hand and give a heartfelt thanks. I for one cannot remember the last time a waiter bought me a beer in a restaurant. In fact, I believe this may be the very first time, at least in a restaurant which a family member does not own. I declare yet again that the World Cup friggen rocks.
7:00 – 7:45 PM – I crash out and nap on my apartment’s floor to recharge and dream of football. Okay, maybe the last part isn’t true.
8:00 PM – Game 3 of the NHL Finals is on TV – NBC no less. NHL Hockey on NBC is weird. They are in love with Edmonton which is kind of odd, considering they are Canadian. I understand that they are a better “story” than Carolina but the coverage is very slanted towards the Canuckleheads. During the second verse of “Oh Canada,” the singer Pierre something or other holds his microphone in the air and lets the 20,000 odd fans belt out the national anthem. They are incredibly loud, sort of on key and it gives me tremendous goose bumps. The crowd sings for a full minute of so. Man does Canada love hockey. I have never seen anything like this before, except at rock concerts when the singer screams “You know the words!” and lets the audience sing a chorus or two or maybe at one of the Yankee playoff games I went to post-9/11 in 2001. I decide Pierre sounds like a good name for my first born son and that Pierre DeJeff Lipson has a nice ring to it. The game itself is great. The action is fluid and very fast paced. That being said, I pretty sure that that a repeat of “The Golden Girls” on Lifetime will still get higher ratings when all is said and done. No one in the US cares about hockey. Okay, a few people do, yet I would hazard to guess that they are the same people that also care about soccer. The sports are very similar if you think about it. They each primarily feature low scoring games and highly praise not just goals but all the passing that lead up to goals as it is so difficult to actually score. In each the announcers voices rise and fall like 15 foot waves over and over again: “A pass up the left…now a cross to the right…a SHOT! OH!! JUST WIDE!!!!” Maybe I like these sports because I was never the uber-ladies man throughout my junior high and high school years. I would get close to hooking up a lot but often would never quite score, which is just like football, I mean soccer, and hockey. I think I have the beginning of a PhD thesis here…
Sunday
9:00 – 11:00 AM – I am awake and on my couch watching Netherlands/Serbia-Montenegro play while flipping back and forth to the French Open Men’s Final. Americans really don’t care about tennis either. This truly is the weekend of all weekends for the underdog un-MUS sports fan. Holland wins 1 – 0 on a brilliant text book goal by Robben. I am especially impressed because he was called off-sides about 2 minutes before on an identical play. Like a true pro, he learned his lesson so that when they tried the play again, which they immediately did, he executed it perfectly. Man, I am so psyched to play again. I cannot wait to be done with grad school next year so that I can join a football, I mean soccer, league. Right now, I just don’t have time. In a year, or less than a year, watch out!
12:00 PM – I bike cross-town to walk my cousin’s dogs thus missing the Mexico/Iran match. I am not that upset. While I like Mexico as a country, I hate their football team and Iran, well, let’s not go there right now. This post is supposed to be about sports, not about politics. As an aside, the Puerto Rican Day Parade is going on and every 10 seconds I hear someone shouting “Boriqua!” My neighborhood is a mess. There is a vendor selling hot nuts on the corner of 85th and Park which is a completely incongruous site. There are more cops on my block than in some some small cities. I only just now learn through the power of search technology that “boriqua” means “a Puerto Rican” or “Puerto Rico” as it was the name of the island before the Spanish arrived. The crowd is loud-loud-loud. My block is filthy. Bingham is annoyed when I take him on his afternoon walk though he is so cute that he stops the people shouting “Boriqua!” in their tracks. Instead they simply go “awwww” and want to pet him.
2:30 PM – I watch some of the Yankee game while waiting for the next WC game to start and get a call from my buddy Dave. “I have some friends here – why don’t you come over?” I hop back on my bike and head to his apartment.
2:55 – 5:00 PM – Dave has 2 TVs. When I arrive, one has on the Yankee game and the other has Portugal/Angola. Dave asks me if I want a beer. I laugh and say “What do you think?” We proceed to drink many. Portugal wins 1-0 but the Yankees blow the game in the 8th and lose 6-5 thus getting swept at home mind you by Oakland. That is the only downer of the weekend. After both games are over, the only sports left on TV before the NBA Finals is College Baseball and Nascar. While Dave loves it, I hate Nascar. They drive around in a circle 500 times. I just don’t get the attraction. I head home to reconnect with Jessie, who was away for the day.
8:00 PM – Jessie and I go to dinner at Zocalo, a Mexican restaurant and one of our favorite restaurants in the city. I comment on Mexico’s 3-1 win to our waiter and we chat about the WC. He mentions that he is in America and therefore roots for the US too. He walks away and I mention to the Jessie that the recent debate on immigration must have him spooked – “He’s trying to make sure we don’t report him to the Federales!” I recognize that what I said is very politically incorrect but I must point out that it also is quite possibly true.
9:30 PM through the end of the evening – The NBA Finals are on TV and I sort of care. I would like Dallas to win even though I strongly dislike the entire state of Texas because I view the Mavericks as “The Internet Team” (due to owner Mark Cuban) and therefore make a special allowance for them. Dallas does win. Yay. I’m much happier about the fact that I’ve seen the first 6 out of 8 World Cup matches. Not too shabby I must say. It reminds me of when I was in Ireland in ’98 and how I just sat in a pub with my friend Rebecca ALL DAY LONG watching the matches. We didn’t care who was playing who – we just liked to watch, and to drink ice cold Guinness. So I’m a footie fanatic – whatcha gonna do ’bout it? Nuttin? I thought so. Oh wait, you just don’t care enough to do anything. Well, that works too as I’m a lover and not a fighter. I walk Mr. B one more time and go to bed dreaming of dribbles and crosses, of juggling the ball 100 times before it touches the ground and of an improbable US run at the title (which after today’s utter disaster does not look that likely).
