I don’t follow sport (generally speaking), not football nor golf or tennis or cricket - none of those glorious games. But every four years (and never in between, and never for any other sport), I am glued to the television screen, held in thrall.
StarHub sent a man the other day to install a high-def set-top box. I listened to his clear instructions on how to use the box and asked him for a favour. Please make sure, I requested, that the television is tuned to the football channel so that when I switch it on; it’s the World Cup, straightaway. While I watch little or no television, I watch as much World Cup as I can, and I don’t want -- at this point -- to have to fiddle between channels, settings, resolution, digital and high def options. Switch on, World Cup, switch off, good enough for me, for now. Interesting, the man said, a little warily, no TV, only football ah?
Football is the embodiment of life
More than any other game, football -- or rather the World Cup -- is for me, the utter and consummate embodiment of life lived to the full and for the moment. That is why I wait for 7.30 p.m. and 10.00 p.m. (and sometimes the 2.30 a.m.), to join the billions rapt before their respective television screens, to immerse myself in the interplay of passion, single-mindedness, tenacity and instinct between eleven, and twenty-two.
It is a veritable Hallelujah of blood, sweat and tears, and it is all about glory; glory born of teamwork, speed, personality, discipline and reciprocity. That, of course, is where France fell short, not in football, but in everything else that makes up football, as the rest of the world understands it. And that is why I applaud North Korea. They played magnificently, and with dignity and honour and they lost to Portugal not because they did not play well, but because they were outplayed.
What else but the World Cup stirs the hearts of so many in so many places? What other sport is so universal, so inclusive, so affordable, so suffused with possibility? |
If the various newspaper reports are to be believed, the North Korean team practice in a gym because they do not have access to a field. None of their countrymen have been permitted to travel to South Africa to cheer and support them. Rather, a group of a hundred hired spectators, supposedly Chinese nationals, sit en bloc and follow the directives of a conductor. Applaud. Rise. Sit. Cheer. Now.
Yet, the North Korean team played their hearts out, winning the respect and admiration of millions who speculate freely on the cost of their failure - coal mines, labour camps, rehabilitation … if newspapers are to be believed. A haunting, lingering image captures their pathos; that of three North Korean coaches huddled in the rain, just after the sixth Portuguese goal.
Yet, more than anything else, this is the glory of football, where you lose and yet you win.
The legend and his prodigy
And then, of course, there’s Diego Maradona. The football wizard with attitude and diamond ear rings. (Argentina have won all three of their first round of matches). It’s a pleasure, almost a sport in itself, to watch Maradona on the sidelines, caged and pacing, uncaring of the cameras and the world’s attention on him, single-minded in focus and exuberant in mien. The reputations of Prodigy Senior and Prodigy Junior (Lionel Messi) remain intact, while the two M’s - their performances, relationship and expectations vis a vis each other – provide fodder for comment and speculation.
The first round is (almost) over and most of Europe in shambles, led by France. There is the debacle of England, and the anti-climax aka Spain who lost to the Swiss and disappointing millions. Are they the quintessential, perpetual underachievers? The question has been raised. Netherlands have been the exception, on top of all of their games so far, but with competence rather than brilliance, and none of the glitter; workmanlike, not star-like.
African teams have been disappointing, and from their galaxy – Ivory Coast, Cameroon, Nigeria, South Africa and Ghana – Ghana sparked with a mild fizz and South Africa redeemed itself (somewhat) against France.
And the best (for now) is yet to come, the clash of the titans, Brazil and Portugal.
There’s a new word in the World Cup lexicon, vuvuzela, one instantly learnt by millions, guaranteed never to be forgotten, now an app for the iPhone - http://www.vuvuzela-worldcup.com/ ).
Other words slide and slither: Jabulani (Zulu for ‘to celebrate’), Bafana Bafana (it’s a pleasure just saying it), even muti (Zulu for witchcraft).
What else but the World Cup stirs the hearts of so many in so many places? What other sport is so universal, so inclusive, so affordable, so suffused with possibility?
Then and now
Eight years ago, I watched the World Cup on a large back-lit television screen and pored over the newspapers for fixtures and times and scores. Four years ago, I watched the tournament on a plasma screen and a nifty laptop replaced the newspaper; online for details, real time. This time around, it’s an LCD screen, and the iPhone and the apps have rendered the laptop redundant, in your pocket, wifi and whatnot. What next? 3D?
I can’t wait for the 2014 World Cup. There is sure to be something different on the wall, and in the pocket.
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Anita Thomas | 24 June 2010
