My toddler daughters are getting a soccer tutor!
On Saturday, the world cup fever finally got to me (three days later, I know). I had refused to be dragged into the fanaticism of soccer, even when it came to an event that is viewed by an average of 260m people across the globe. It’s not that I have any personal vendetta against soccer, and I am sure if I took a few hours to understand the dynamics of the game, I would master the basics. The issue however is the fact that my approach to embracing anything in life is two fold, either I am adroit at something, or I don’t bother with it. Because having half an understanding of things frustrates me.
But when it comes to soccer, I feel that there’s too much information that I need to consume and my brain capacity is already limited. All the history that soccer fans seem to have creeps me out. How am I supposed to catch up with what has happened since England invented the game of running around kicking a ball in the mid 19th century? Is it even England that invented the game?
Have you ever sat in the midst of soccer diehards and found yourself imploding from all the talk about the different leagues and how some coach needs to be fired and how this player earns this much money? If these people applied this level of mastery in their different fields of work, don’t you think Kenya would be closer to attaining second world status? Except that corruption will not let us prosper.
So, if you are wondering why I finally succumbed to the pressure of understanding soccer and watching the World Cup, it’s not that FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out for all you generation A people haha) finally got to me. As I was getting ready to head out to the salon, I spotted this Jamaican jersey in my closet. Its colours were inviting especially on a dull and nippy day. I wore it with my black jeans and black converse shoes and I looked like I was about to feature in a Konshens music video.
Suddenly, I felt a strong pull towards global affairs and figured that it wouldn’t be so bad to let it be known out there that the spirit was finally with me. That I would be cheering some team because of the fancy Jersey I was rocking, if not for anything else. And so, I dropped a friend of mine a Whatsapp chat. He’s one of those soccer aficionados.
J: Is Jamaica participating in the World Cup?
J:Answer my question, it’s urgent.
J: Are you writing a dissertation?
P:It’s like asking if Kenya qualified.
J:They are that bad?
J: I was about to put up a pic on IG with the caption “In the spirit of World Cup”
P: What pic?
P: Please desist!
By the way, you know how funny a joke is by the number of laugh emojis or hahaha’s they respond with. If they are two, your friend just laughed because they did not want to let you down, but if they are like 10, that’s some high level hilarity. So my pal cracked the hell up at my expense and I said that my daughters will never have to go through that.
After the salon, I sauntered into the house to find Xena watching some cartoon on Cbeebies. It was around 5pm and Argentina were playing Iceland.
“How do you watch Cbeebies when there’s World Cup?” I chided like I had been watching soccer all my life. “I need to teach you a thing or two about the World Cup.”
“I know what World Cup is. It’s football.” She said as she handed me the remote.
“Oh yea, how did you know?”
“My daddy told me yesterday.” He beat me to it, that daddy of hers. I find it funny how she calls him my daddy even when addressing me, as if she’s talking to a third-party. Not knowing that if I didn’t call him daddy first, she would not have been in existence! (Inappropriate joke? Ok, lets move on.)But when Xena’s talking about me to him, she says “Mama told me.” Not my mummy. If you have ever doubted there’s injustice in the world, this is it.
I motioned her to sit next to me and we got right into the game. Argentina in their dark blue jerseys looked quite suave and my decision on who to support was done. A goal attempt was made. I shrieked.
“Who are you screaming at?” She asked.
“Is Argentina the one in red?”
“No that’s the goal keeper.”
“Then who is Argentina? Is he your friend?”
“I thought your daddy taught you about the World Cup?”
“He only said it’s football and I should support Spain.”
“Is Spain your friend?”
“No mama! Spain is a country!” She riposted in disbelief.
“Argentina is also a country. The guys wearing dark blue are from Argentina and the other guys are from Iceland.” I said.
“And the guy in red?”
“Why are you so fascinated with the guy in red?” I turned to her, my eyebrows arched.
“I think he’s handsome.”
To think I was the only one eying hot men. The apple clearly did not fall far from the tree!