Soccer Myopia

Soccer is perhaps the most comprehensible sport to understand, and the most incomprehensible to understand. This incongruity of perception is mainly the predicament that frustrates American observers of the sport. How can a sport so simplistic in its rules and on-field action that a toddler can understand it, and so deficient in strategy, tactics and drama, be a sensible viewing endeavor? How can you understand a “sport” where most of the physical action occurs in the spectator stands? How can you comprehend a sport whereas if it ends in a 0-0 tie, whole nations go wild with pride? When the United States and England ended their match in a 1-1 tie during the World Cup, the foreign sports media tried to convince Americans that this result required them to run riot with joy in the streets; outside a few local soccer fanatics, the more general response was, “Huh?”

The Encyclopedia Britannica article on “international football” gushes about the “beauty” of the sport as if it were as easy on the eyes as a pageant of scantily-clad women, rather than a sleep-inducing agent, and going on to exclaim that “The simplicity of the rules and the fact that it can be played practically everywhere has contributed to (its) popularity.” In America, a fussball table in the corner bar is about how far “everywhere” goes for most people. For some, the only “fascinating” facet of the World Cup is that they’ve learned that the mind-numbing background noise that sounds like a million bees is being produced by a “musical” instrument called a “vuvuzelas.”

I have this theory why Americans are less fanatical about soccer than other nationalities. Americans are individualists, they’re not “team players” by nature. When a kid dreams of being a football, baseball or basketball player, he or she is not dreaming about being a “team player.” They’re dreaming about individual achievements: hitting 50 homeruns, scoring 30 points or running for 2,000 yards. The coach might preach “team,” but the individual is thinking what he or she can do to stand out above the rest. That is why players and fans are so fascinated with the multitude of statistics that defines American sports. Now, in the case of soccer, it is very difficult to quantify what being a “star” is. Hardly any “points” are scored. “Bend it like Beckham?” What the hell does that mean? There can be little else than winning for queen and country (or mayor and city) to motivate a soccer player. Maybe during the World Cup or Olympics Americans might have some sense of national togetherness, but in the professional world, it’s the big individual numbers that earn you the big paycheck. I would also conjecture that this lack of team spirit is pervasive in the real world, perhaps more so on the right than the left.