GOOOOOOOOALLLLLLLL!!!!
In the morning, the US soccer team decided to prove every last soccer-hater wrong by delivering a match that had every possible bit of drama and tension one could hope for in sport, capped off by the kind of mind-boggling end-of-game finish that required multiple replays and heavy rubbing of eyes just to accept its reality. The US? Score in the waning injury time minutes of the World Cup?? Inconceivable!!
One of the best reasons to love sports is not to admire skill or physique, but because it provides us with the fodder for conversation and togetherness that doesn't involve phrases like "oil spill" or "Middle East conflict." To be in a bar -- or let's just call it a "pub" when we're watching soccer -- for the most dramatic World Cup match in the un-storied history of US futbol was an honor, an exquisite privilege. This pub is of modest size, accommodates folks of all political persuasions, and serves tasty vittles. It even had a special order of Cheladas* on ice for the bleary-eyed idiots who felt courageous.
In a town like Chattanooga, few sporting moments can so thoroughly unite everyone in a bar as international competition, and few international competitions get spirited and devoted viewers in America quite like the World Cup. (Oh, don't we all miss the days when we could cheer on Ted Turner's yachts in the America's Cup...)
Come to think of it, why is it always a CUP? Shouldn't we call it a "grail"? Doesn't that sound so much more kick-ass? "The World Grail." I need to patent that one before someone else gets rich off it.
Anyway, a local news station had a videographer stationed at the pub where the BOTG crew, along with several family members and co-workers, watched the game. Although neither of us are stars in this video, we have cameo appearances, and it gives you a sense of just how awesome the experience of watching the match in a packed pub can be:
[NOTE: If you've never met me before, then... um... I'm the guy in the had and red shirt who raises his hands up at the bar right at the beginning of the video.]
A THREE-DAY TENNIS MATCH...?
As the day progressed, and the thrill of America's successful snatch of victory from the razor-jaws of defeat began to soften a bit, another story started bubbling into conversations both online and around offices. Two no-name dudes at Wimbledon were engaged in the Longest Tennis Match in History.
I just followed this story in text form from my office. Friends were texting me updates to the score -- 43-44!! 51-51!! 57-56!! -- and more people were piling onto the curiosity bandwagon as the day went on. In some sense, the fascination here was not with the sport and not with the players, but with the mere spectacle. It's sport's version of The Bearded Lady, a freakish oddity from which your eyes cannot reasonably turn away.
And it will continue. Tomorrow morning. The third calendar date over which this one single match has progressed.
Sports can indeed be awesome. Even shit like steeplechase.
* -- "Chelada" is just the fancy way to say "Poor Man's Bloody Mary."
In a town like Chattanooga, few sporting moments can so thoroughly unite everyone in a bar as international competition, and few international competitions get spirited and devoted viewers in America quite like the World Cup. (Oh, don't we all miss the days when we could cheer on Ted Turner's yachts in the America's Cup...)
Come to think of it, why is it always a CUP? Shouldn't we call it a "grail"? Doesn't that sound so much more kick-ass? "The World Grail." I need to patent that one before someone else gets rich off it.
Anyway, a local news station had a videographer stationed at the pub where the BOTG crew, along with several family members and co-workers, watched the game. Although neither of us are stars in this video, we have cameo appearances, and it gives you a sense of just how awesome the experience of watching the match in a packed pub can be:
[NOTE: If you've never met me before, then... um... I'm the guy in the had and red shirt who raises his hands up at the bar right at the beginning of the video.]
A THREE-DAY TENNIS MATCH...?
As the day progressed, and the thrill of America's successful snatch of victory from the razor-jaws of defeat began to soften a bit, another story started bubbling into conversations both online and around offices. Two no-name dudes at Wimbledon were engaged in the Longest Tennis Match in History.
And it will continue. Tomorrow morning. The third calendar date over which this one single match has progressed.
Sports can indeed be awesome. Even shit like steeplechase.
* -- "Chelada" is just the fancy way to say "Poor Man's Bloody Mary."
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