Maybe I can´t say that I hate soccer. Hate is a strong word and soccer has certainly never banged my teenage sister. Its just that for me soccer is alot like other peoples friends from high school. Ive tried and tried but I dont think Ill ever get why theyre so great.
I have a tradition that I like to partake in during the World Cup. For the entire four weeks I just go on not giving a shit. It ends up being great practice for the 44 weeks in between.
Soccer is unfortunately a very popular activity for the backpacker. Much like indie documentaries, sustainably farmed hummus or Che Gueverra, soccer is something that you´re simply required to feign interest in (a charade you can accomplish with as little as one clever T-shirt).
Eventually, in an effort to apear likable and hip, you will agree to tag along to a soccer game. Luckily travelers, I have discovered that this is actually not so bad.
I’m not sure about you, but for me, watching soccer in America means sitting in a bar listening to some hipster try to extrapolate the play they saw on Top Ten to the point where it sounds like they actually watched the game.
Did I see that goal against Argentina? Yeah I saw it. I saw it on highlights and it saved me from 89 minutes of looking at nothing.
Fortunately, South American soccer fans are awesome. All you do is drink and fight and sing songs about the spanish word for ¨cocksucker” After the game everybody has a riot. In America the only time you get a riot is if your team wins the goddamn World Series. Even then it has be in a real city like Boston or Philadelphia. You can’t be in San Fransisco where everyone just goes home and tweets about it.
totally throwing biodegradable confetti@police cars:) #mycitysfullofpussies
My father once told me that you don´t go to a monster truck rally to watch monster trucks, you go to watch people who are there to watch monster trucks. The point being that in the right atmosphere I don´t really care if I´m in Missouri or Medellin, or what the provided entertainment happens to be.
With a little patience, and a little luck someone below the poverty line is going to make a poor decision and get hit with a police baton.