For some reason, the outbreak of World Cup fever that seems to have infected almost everyone I know, appears to have missed me.  I’m not exactly sure why that is but I don’t think it has anything to do with the baby aspirin that I take.  It’s probably mostly due to the fact that the Wimbledon Championships were going on at the same time and once you consider the time I spend sleeping and eating there really hasn’t been enough hours in the day to devote to watching all the sporting events on TV.

In one of the few moments when I haven’t been glued to the screen, I started thinking about why I’m more interested in some sports than others.  After I raised that thought I got busy watching again . . .so, about a week later I returned to thinking about it.  After some time, it occurred to me that generally, I have the least interest in those sports that I haven’t played.  In the era in which I grew up (I can’t begin to describe the awful feeling I have when I place myself in an “era”) , organized sports weren’t a part of the zeitgeist that they are today.  And certainly, none of my neighborhood friends showed up in the street with a soccer ball suggesting that we go to the park and “kick a few” (if indeed, that is the expression).  So, with virtually no personal soccer experience, it kind of makes sense that I have a lukewarm interest in the World Cup.  (I feel similarly and for the same reasons about the World Curling Championships and the World Synchronized Swimming Championships.)

Obviously, all the sports watching I’ve been doing has been at the expense of some other activity.  And the one that seems to go most easily by the wayside is, reading.  As a result, my New Yorkers have been piling up.  Experience has shown me that once you fall seriously behind there’s no catching up.  Oh, you can read a little bit here and there but then, wham! another one shows up in the mail and you’re even further behind.  It’s just like a credit card bill–if you only pay the minimum, insidiously, you get deeper and deeper into serious debt.  And then, before you know it, you’re filing for bankruptcy.  I don’t know what the equivalent is for literary bankruptcy, but believe me, I’m at its doorstep.

....or maybe a good novel

….or maybe a good novel

The World Cup has taken hold in the office formerly (and currently) known as Garfield Realty, particularly with Luap.  When I explained to him what I thought was the reason for my disinterest, he suggested that to generate some enthusiasm for the Cup, it might not be too late for me to take up soccer as a new sport.  I thought about it a bit, considered all that running around, and decided that if I were to re-invent myself as a soccer player, the only position I’d be interested in is being a goalie.  From what I’ve seen, about 97% of the time the goalie doesn’t do anything.  Just stands around with pretty much nothing to do.  Which could work out perfectly for me.  I could bring a few of those yellowing New Yorkers, maybe a lounge chair and probably do some serious catching up.



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