A beautiful game...

It has been amazing watching the world cup unfold in South Africa. I have countless memories of gathering in front of the TV every four years to watch the world cup. There was always so much excitement in my home during this time. We would wake up in the middle of the night (depending on time zone differences) just to watch the games. One of my cousins who was born during the 96’ world cup was named Roberto Carlos after the famous Brazilian soccer player because he was born within minutes of him scoring a defining goal. True story.

It is not called the beautiful game for nothing. I’m a firm believer that soccer unites the world in a way that nothing else can. South Africans must be so proud to watch their country host, to cheer on one of their colonizers on the finals and to export their affection for vuvuzelas even at the expense of western ears.

Soccer is known to stir up both good and bad emotions. I remember watching the game where Colombian player Andrés Escobar scored and auto goal, I was 11. Later on we heard on the news that he was killed by an angry fan. Some people go crazy over the game but for the rest of us, it’s a happy time where we can cheer on our teams and enjoy the hotness of the players. There I said it.