World Cup Memories

A week from now, the 2010 FIFA World Cup will be underway...and I will be a very happy person. Sadly, I feel that there are a lot of people in this country that don't quite understand how big of a deal this soccer tournament is. I mean, it's the biggest sports tournament in the entire world. Forget the World Series or the NBA Finals, this is a tournament that has qualifying start two years before the finals take place and it actually involves the ENTIRE world. If you win, you can actually call yourselves "world champions" and mean it (I'm looking at you MLB and NBA). Who cannot get ecstatic about that?

I will have to give some credit to ESPN for at least trying to get America amped for South Africa. Never in my 21 years of life have I seen a World Cup that has seen this much promotion and hype...especially for the US v. England game (which I hope we beat England's ass and force Wayne Rooney to live in a shed). So, since it's obviously obvious that I am excited about this upcoming World Cup, I thought that I would take the time to share some of my favorite/more poignant memories from the World Cups that have happened in my life time (and I'm not including 1990 because I was a baby and don't remember anything).

1994 (USA): Now, I really don't have a specific game memory from this World Cup because I was five and probably hadn't started playing soccer yet. However, this is a story that my mom has told me many times involving my father and his time during the WC. For most of the World Cup, my dad was stuck doing a film shoot in Montana (the butt crack of our nation). He didn't have a TV to watch the games, nor did her have a laptop or a cell phone because they weren't invented yet. Once he got home, the World Cup was over, but he insisted that he didn't want to know who won until he sat down and watched all of the games that he had my mom record on our VCR. Oh...that's another thing about my dad. He records all of games...first on VCR but now he just dubs them all on DVDs. He still has them, too.

So far so good, he is getting through the games without any one telling him the ultimate outcome. Then, before he has a chance to watch the final, a friend tells him that Italy won the World Cup. Now, this is humorous because it wasn't Italy that won, it was Brazil. But my dad was so heartbroken from finding out. Yet, the true soccer fan that he is, he sat down and watched the final. As he was watching it, he just couldn't understand how Brazil could lose because they were playing so well. Then, he gets to the penalty kicks. He continues to watch, even though he thinks Italy prevails. He gets to Roberto Baggio's (Italy) game-deciding kick. If he makes it, Italy wins. If he misses, Brazil wins. My dad, assuming that he makes the kick, becomes a little downtrodden. But, miracle of miracles, Baggio's kick sails over the cross bar. And when I say sail...I mean SAIL. All of a sudden, my dad gets this big surprise look on his face and starts yelling, "BRAZIL WON! BRAZIL WON! BRAZIL WON!" and it almost seemed like his head was going to spin off his body. Priceless.

Baggio's missed PK

1998 (France): The World Cup in France was the first one that I watched mostly from beginning to end...or at least it's the first one I can remember watching. The best memory I have is from the final, Brazil vs. France. I remember this most clearly because my dad and I were watching it together on the couch downstairs. I was in my France replica jersey that he had gotten me while on a shoot in Nice, and he was in his Brazil replica jersey...because he's a front runner. We would go back and forth with our digs against the other team, until I remained victorious with Zidane and the French sealing the win. Then I rubbed it in my dad's face for a good week or so. And I wore my France jersey a lot too because I thought I was a cool kid for having the same jersey as the World Cup Champions. It's the small things.

2002 (Korea/Japan): Just an FYI to FIFA, never ever again have the World Cup in Asia. The game times in the States are just too whacky and hardly anyone can stay up to watch a game at 2am. Let's keep this thing within a plus/minus 8 hours time difference from now on...for me. Anyway, since the games times ranged from 11pm to 4am, my dad and I decided to unearth the sleeper sofa in the family room so we could sleep downstairs and then just set the alarm to wake us up in time for the games. This was no problem for my dad because he's weird like that. It was a little more difficult for me because I was still in school and still had to try to stay awake during class. So, I probably was able to stay up for at least one of the games each night.

One game that I specifically remember staying up for was the quarterfinal of US vs. Germany. The US had played uncharacteristically well this World Cup and this was the farthest they had gone in the tournament since god-knows-when. I got up at the butt-crack of dawn to watch the game, and it was a very good game. We were holding our own with those annoying Germans. Then, in the whatever minute, with the US trailing by one, there is a play in the goal area and what looks to be a handball on the Germans. It was like he snuck his hand in right as the ball was about to cross the line. I was super pissed...as most were the people that stayed up to watch the game. Balls. As unpleasant as that memory is, it was one of the most vivid ones from 2002.

2006 (Germany): I didn't watch a whole bunch of this World Cup, mostly because I was refereeing at Far West Regionals. However, while I was there, they kept making a point about how Regionals was like the "World Cup for all the youths" and how all the games were so important to the kids. But, I do remember that I couldn't even watch the final live. No...I was working a different soccer tournament and they made me do a game at the same time. While everyone else was around the tent watching the game from a TV someone smuggled in, I was off babysitting a bunch of punk-ass soccer players. Not nice. Of course, by the time I was done with my game, the final was over and all everyone could talk about was the headbutt. I was so bummed. Of course, I went home and watched the replay of the game, but it just wasn't the same. It must have been similar to what my dad felt back in 1994.

Greatness!

Now...I hope that by July 11th, I will have made some new World Cup memories both good and bad. All I know is that I can't wait to witness all of it, even if it means taping the games and watching them later (so you better not tell me scores or anything!!!). Then...I can start a World Cup collection of my own so I can relive the great moments over and over and over.