World Cup Fever . . . It’s Spreading

Has World Cup Fever hit your house yet? Let me clue you in on a few of the symptoms: In the middle of the day, your humans stop what they’re doing and migrate toward the television. While watching the television, your mommy keeps saying “That guy is hot!” over and over and over again. (Of course that guy is hot, Mommy. The commentators keep telling you about the extreme temperatures and humidity.) And then, occasionally, your daddy yells “GOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAL!” and wakes you up from a perfectly sound sleep.

My humans had a minor case of World Cup Fever four years ago, or perhaps they were just hypnotized by the buzz of the South African vuvuzelas. Here’s the funny think about my humans and the World Cup: They know absolutely nothing about soccer. Yesterday, while they were watching some game that pitted some team again some other team, my mommy said to my daddy, “Do we even know how many people are on the field for each team?” And my daddy replied, “I think it’s nine.” Just for the record, humans, it’s 11, and it’s a match played on a pitch. And once and for all, it’s football, not soccer. (Wow, I think I might have gone a little British on you with all those proper football terms.) In a nutshell, my humans are the ultimate casual soccer fans who emerge from their non-soccer cocoons once very four years and become completely obsessed with the World Cup. Yep, they have the fever.

So naturally yesterday when the United States took on Ghana, my humans were planted in front of that television. Lucky for them, the start of the match just happened to coincide with the start of cocktail hour. I think my human’s favorite part of any soccer match is the beginning, when the players walk out hand-in-hand with little children, stand at attention and belt out their national anthems, and then shake hands and exchange tiny flags. Mommy wonders what they do with all of those tiny flags they collect. (I told you she was a casual fan.) My humans also like how cordial the teams are to each other. When a player for one team has a leg cramp, you’ll often see a player from the other team helping to stretch his leg. And the other day, my humans saw two opposing players have a bit of an altercation. The referee went over to them, had a little chat, and then everyone shook hands and the match continued. My humans say that’s very civilized, and I would have to agree.

But back to the match. After 90-ish minutes (my humans are fascinated by that seemingly random extra time that is tacked on to the end of a match), the United States prevailed over Ghana. While my mommy was happy to see the U.S. win, she was sad for the team from Ghana, mostly because she liked their “outfits” and their “hairdos” (conclusive proof that she is the ultimate casual soccer fan).

As for me, I slept through most of the match. It’s going to be a long month of soccer (or football, as everyone else in the world calls it) and a girl’s got to save her strength. I wouldn’t want to get run down and succumb to the World Cup Fever that has infected my humans.

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