I just typed in this title, and then Germany scored its 5th goal against Brazil … in the first 27 minutes of the semi-finals. And three of those in the past 7 minutes or so. There’s so many good World War II jokes that could be made of this, but I’ve already posted my best one to Facebook and Twitter, so no need to overdo it. Obviously this is all happening because giving a passport to an American with toddler-level language skills who jaywalks is like sprinkling gold dust on an angry cat for good luck. Or something.
I have to say, I can appreciate football. Soccer. Whatever.
Okay, now we’re up to 6-0.
The Germans are showing emotion, finally. I think I just saw a tear.
Phew. They haven’t scored again. So what I was going to say is, I’ve been pretty good about this World Cup. Generally, I don’t mind a game once a week or so, watching scientists get emotional about something, staring unashamedly at the German national team keeper. I’ve sort of figured out what ‘off sides’ means, and I know that the guy on the German national team is really, really good at corner kicks, which I think is a special skill, but I’m not entirely sure about that. I can also see some humor in being an American watching the world cup, which can be largely defined by this comic:
It’s been fun. We haven’t lost any furniture yet, only one shoe has landed on the roof, and there’s a good fraction of people at Wolfie who will probably have to add “sincere appreciations to the World Cup for thoroughly distracting me from my thesis” to their acknowledgments section.
The World Cup is literally a month straight with a total of 64 games. Sixty-fucking-four soccer games. In one month and one day. With a total of seven days off from playing. That is an average of over 2.5 games per day. And they all happen in the evening, starting anytime between 5 and 9 PM to cater to the countries playing (sorry, South Korea and Japan), and finishing anytime between 9 PM and midnight. I don’t really have to tell you what that means in a relationship.
Also, the Brazilians just scored their first goal. Felicitaçoes.
So, I mean, the first two weeks were the worst, for sure. There were like 3-4 games per day, everyday. Many of them went into overtime. A lot of energy was spent being into the game, leading to complete exhaustion afterwards. The World Cup is just generally not good for relationships.
But at the same time, the World Cup is only once every four years. It’s fun, it’s spirited, and there’s always a few songs by Shakira that don’t actually have any words, just some noises and a lot of hip action. People paint their faces, fly out to stadiums in the middle of the jungle on the opposite side of the planet, and stand in the rain to watch beautiful men kick around a black-and-white ball. It gives the anti-social academics in Cambridge something to talk about, and I’ve never seen so many people eating yellow, blue and green peanut M&M’s. And in the greater scheme of things, it’s only a month, and this time it happens to be the month exactly leading up to the day my thesis is due. Which is a blessing and a curse, since the Austrian is too busy watching games to distract me, but I’m too busy trying to figure out what the hell the rules of this game are to actually write my thesis.
Anyways, it’s over in less than a week, and I submit my thesis the day after. Until then, some words of advice from the Austrian:
Start a relationship in the year before the WC, then you have a full year to build up brownie points before it starts.