I’m late to the party… but I think one week is well within the grace period. The World Cup is here! The very first one since I completed high school, and like with everything else that I have experienced post-high-school, it really felt much more exciting when I was on the inside. Maybe it was just the vuvuzela orchestra.
|Richard: SI unit of the underdog|
It is no secret that I root for the underdog… always have. Maybe I do it just to be the different one with the dissenting opinion. Whatever the reason, I will be the girl cringing every time Richard Jenkins embarrasses himself and the one crying softly when he finally launches the fastest, most lossless (is that a phrase?) compression software on Silicon Valley. However, for once, I will be rooting for someone with a real and apparent shot at winning. My support for Brazil is completely non-football related. Don’t get me wrong, I am convinced (largely by my boyfriend) that Neymar is a football demigod.
Even with that, I am with Brazil because I believe that a country with a city as beautiful as Rio de Janeiro… a city so amazing that it inspired a movie as spectacular as Rio, deserves world recognition. The fact that this recognition will come in the form of the World Cup is simply a by the way. Even the people are beautiful and fun. I would give anything to be in one of their carnivals. Nothing says, “Carpe Diem!” like rocking feathers and glitter. I already have my honey moon destination figured out.
The World Cup is natural selection at its best. The strong come out triumphant and live to fight another day, while the weak get eaten. Ask anyone in a relationship. The World Cup is nature’s way of weeding out the weak couples from those who have what it takes to make it to July 13th unscarred. On that note, congratulations mum and dad for making it through 5 World Cups together. May you get to enjoy many more… or rather, mum, may you get to live through many more “You are blocking the TV!” while all you want is to announce that supper is ready.
Being the benevolent soul that I am, I have dedicated time and effort to determining strategies on how you, relationship guru who knows nothing about football; or you, football enthusiast with mild Asperger’s syndrome can live through this. Luckily, with my well balanced personality, I have the optimal love-hate relationship with both football and people… making me your go to girl on such conflicting issues.
1. Pick your teams in advance. In the unfortunate event that your team of choice may upset your significant other’s sensibilities (like how upset I’d be if he supported Germany, of God forbid, USA) it would be wise to declare your support as early on as January to give them time to adjust… and to tear up your jersey as therapy.
2. This will cause backlash so make sure to have a conflict resolution strategy. During this period you can expect to argue about anything from whether to watch a particular game, where to watch it from, whether or not to celebrate the fact that Spain is out… I recommend arm wrestling as a strategy. That is not code for anything.
3. Develop a new hobby. This is for those who don’t want to have anything to do with the World Cup. Learn origami or something… have a new baby if you must. Adopt a puppy.
4. Watch Rio… and Rio 2. They will remind you of the beauty of Brazil… and of the Brazilian people. Despite the news of all the human trafficking that goes on there, Rio (the movie) will restore your faith in Brazil.
5. If you can’t beat them, join them. As an actuarial science student, I would recommend that you read statistical predictions from Goldman Sachs and Lloyd’s of London. It will give you a unique opportunity to watch grown actuaries and investment bankers get into a pissing contest about which team stands better odds. Investment bankers, despite causing the Economic Crisis, can still do some things right. They think Brazil has a real shot… a 99% chance. Though they did predict that Spain would get to semis… so there’s that.
6. When all else fails, love each other. When I scream that I really hate you, it actually just means that I hate that I love you so… learn to read the love in between the lines.