Ready To Go

I'm too old now to feel that same kind of anticipation on Christmas morning.  That expectant joy which would make sleep almost impossible has given way now that innocence has faded and cynicism taken hold.  There's a small flicker of it - a burning ember not yet extinguished - that can be felt on the opening day of each season but even that comes weighed down.  Such are the stakes that come with club football, everything feels a little too important to simply sit back and enjoy.  Which is exactly what the World Cup is all about.

This will be my fifth tournament.  It would be six - just about - had I been bitten by the bug in 1994 by my fascination with football was still embryonic and would take another couple of years to fully develop. All of them are very unique in my mind, even if the details of some of the earlier ones aren't exactly crystal clear.

Due to the duration between World Cups, they arrive at such distinct periods and as such act as the perfect catalyst, allowing a sound or a picture to take me back in time.  The process of creating those personal moments in the next month or so is something that I can't wait to begin. Whatever happens in Brazil and whichever nation rejoices in writing a new chapter in history, I will have my own story running parallel. The wait is all but over.

Brazil

When learning about the beautiful game there are things that are passed on directly and that which does not even need to be said.  As a child of the nineties, Brazil were the full stop at the end of any sentence to do with international football.  Their side was a virtual world eleven, brimming with flair and attacking talent.  As such, I couldn't stand them.

Unlike the more functional Germany and Italy sides, their cavalier approach which warmed them to so many never quite sat right with my younger self.  It felt unfair to be that talented and successful.  Defending was a side of the game that I have always identified with, partly down to lacking the kind of technical ability that came far too naturally for them.  Jealousy aside, I'd always had a thing for flawed genius.  You can have all the talents in the world but it somehow meant more to me if the biggest obstacle to to overcome was within.  Part of that is perhaps why I always preferred Maradona to Pele.  

Ronaldinho was such a fascinating player to watch because he was arguably the first truly great player I had the benefit of seeing on a regular basis.  He is also an incredible enigma given that his medal collection should be enough to substantiate his claims to have been one of the best of his generation and yet there is this sense of wasted potential that seems hard to shake.  

My attitude toward them has improved dramatically as I've gotten older.  France proved that they were mortal and then Spain  took over their mantle on the world stage.  The weight of expectation on a team to regain their crown, not just to win but to accomplish that in a certain style may be too much for them but it will certainly be fascinating to watch as the tournament progresses.   That romantic notion of Brazil which I turned my back on for so long is now something I'm willing to buy into.

It Matters

I've seen that look a thousand times. Each time it's worded a little differently but the gist is always the same. It's not meant to be condescending, or at least nowhere near as patronizing as it appears. Most of the time it is born out of genuine concern for my well being. Friend and stranger alike, staring me up and down like I've just beamed down from a distant planet.

“Why is he getting so worked up?”

Some understand, even if not quite to the same degree. Most don't - can't even – and see it as an overreaction to a meaningless consequence. The people who – when everything goes wrong - will say it is just a game. Words that poison the heart of everyone who has committed any real length of time to the beautiful game. For the devotees, it is mostly a very one sided relationship. An unrequited love which leads to almost annual – if not weekly - disappointment. Remaining forever loyal in the hope that things will be different one day. Those days – however infrequently they do occur – are the ones we cherish forever.

Divisive though it can be, it has the capacity to unite in a way that so few other things can. It's a language that can be shared between cultures that seem to have very little else in common. Humanity bonds together closest through shared experience and though I might not know how to express myself in a variety of different tongues, I can still enjoy the thrill of a last minute goal with anyone around the world. No matter whatever else separates us, football remains the same.