The emptiness that had descended on me since the end of the Premier League season has finally been chased away by the sound of vuvuzelas all the way in South Africa. Oh, I know, I complained and whined and endured a lot of agony with every ridiculous Liverpool tumble week in and week out, but despite the fact that work and life has hardly given me any chance to breathe since then, something is just not right when you don't have a football team to obsess about. So anyway, good times are here again. And that is the stand I will maintain till my teams start dealing out depression in dollops.
About the vuvuzelas, it's incredible how much complaining there's been about their sound. It's been compared to bees, traffic, nails being driven down a chalkboard...but the best comment against all those who object was one I read on The Guardian website. It went like this: "People in South Africa celebrating the World Cup in a manner they've been doing for years? How dare they?" Exactly. So just watch the football and don't bother about them noises.
In my opinion, it's only fair that to balance out the pain of the club season, I get some happiness out of Germany's and Spain's performances. But as life has smugly pointed out again and again, unfairness is its forte. Oh well.
But for now, I shall celebrate. It's finally here, the time I've been waiting for for weeks on end. Yesterday, Day One, this silly smile kept creeping up on my face as I anticipated the moment of opening kick-off. Three hours to go, two, one. Of course, it's a different matter that at the actual time the referee for the Mexico-South Africa game blew his whistle I was frantically negotiating traffic to get home in time. I missed the first fifteen minutes, but that's all right. I didn't miss all that much, and for the first time in the history of my football-watching career, I guessed the final scoreline correctly. This betting syndicate I'm part of, I've made clear to the organiser that I will not be putting any money for or against any of my teams, for fear of the jinx effect. If I bet in their favour, they will surely find the most bizarre way to lose. And I obviously can't bet against them. It's a no-win situation. So I will just lie low.
I foresee that this next month of the World Cup could pose a few problems. Basically, it's hard to explain to most people that when a match is on, I want to be in front of my TV in my room at home. Alone, preferably. I will not be going out to hang, chill, or any such activity at the times the stadiums in South Africa are packed and buzzing with the sound of crazy fans. It's for their own good. Football for me is not a social activity. I won't deny that it really is wholesome entertainment to study my reactions during games, but at times it's just not pretty. The abuses pour out, the sulks get more pronounced, and the possibility of serious injury cannot be ruled out. This is just what we are like, this football-watching breed of ours that walks the earth. Don't expect us to change. Ever.
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