Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Ode to a broken heart

One thing I've noticed: Loving the World Cup is very similar to being in a relationship, for me at least. It doesn't happen that often. (Sadly, I think the World Cup happens more than do my relationships, but whatever.) I always have really high hopes going into it. There are usually some moments of excitement and passion, certainly some moments of disappointment and feeling let down, and lots of just normal stuff in between. I think that maybe, maybe this is the right time. This is it. This is the one that's going all the way.
And yet, I'm still single and the U.S. is out, and now so is Germany, my extremely close second favorite team. It always ends in disappointment, it seems. My team has never won the Cup. The team I've sided after the U.S. was out has never won the Cup as long as I've been paying attention. (Still always Germany.)
Plus, there are always people butting in and people who have something to say no matter how much you don't care. There's always that guy who *knows* how it's going to end because he's so freakin' smart and who doesn't hesitate to say, "I told you so." And you always wonder what could have been if one or two things had happened differently.
Deep sigh. I love you, World Cup soccer, and you too, United States, and you a little less but still a lot, Germany. I cried over you. I made sacrifices for you. I planned my life around you, and even though sometimes you make me so angry I could pull my hair out, I'll always go back to you. Just don't forget me in four years, OK? Think of how much I've suffered and what you've put me through. Don't be that guy. Show me a little love back, yeah?

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