The World Cup runneth over in this house, as one might imagine. It is on. And on. Every game is important, every game interesting, things to score, teams to suss out, figuring and waging. Points to count in each of the groups. We have a schedule of games posted in the kitchen. And a handy score sheet open at all times in the World Cup Guide in the living room. Suffice it to say, it is a part of my June as is birds and grass cutting and BBQ and air. And I do give a mild toss, as it is interrupting my usual log on to our television with daytime nonsense and evening American drama. (We get Big Love, Grey’s Anatomy and House now!)
And in the natural course of events, US playing Italy happened to be on in my living room last night. Given my heritage and the fact that the US SUCKED it hard in the first game v. Czech Republic, I thought I'd best be witness to the suffering. And join in the reindeer games.
Many of the European football teams are elitist. Long standing, clever, creative, finessed, cunning, and well, smug. Italy is one of them. The US, as we all know, is a newbie and we don’t even count as we play soccer. But this game took ‘em by total surprise. Italians ran slow and looked a bit constipated and the American chaps all looked like they had taken care of business and were ready to run. They passed, they defended, they were impressive! And I have an official crush on the keeper, Kasey Keller, with his giant paws so elegantly crushing those ill-fated Italian kicks. Now, the Italian players in their electric blue kits complementing the olive skin and dark shiny hair... they are a handsome bunch. And a shout out to Italia as I am 1/2 Italian, but last night, I was all USA baby. We held our own. We tied 1-1, which before Mark I woulda thought was bad. We are still in the game by the hairs on our teeth.
Most frighteningly, I found myself impersonating Mark. Standing during the game. Drinking fast. (subbing water for ale) Yelling "Come OOOOOOOOON" in various stages of urgency.
In short, caring.
WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO ME???
Am I girl deprived (see KQ- you make me jealous with all your DC trips and whatnot) and merely succumbing to the alpha male in me? Or joining out of boredom and lack of being able to commandeer the TV away from Mark? Beat him and join him? When in Rome? (er, or World Cup Country anyway?)
I am guessing it was a one-off event. But in case I am going to the dark side, please remind me how much I need a pedicure.