Futbol features aspects of most other, more popular sports -- running, passing, blood, arguments, tackling, cussing, penalties, hugs, celebrations, bad calls, no calls, yelling by the coach or manager, rituals, superstitions, fanatic fans.
Futbol aficionadoes resemble Raiders fans. World Cup means pull out the face paint, flags, signs, scarves and in South Africa, the vuvuzela. To me, the horns when blown constantly by 40,000 people sound like a stadium of angry bees. Our celebrations in the stands fall far short. Futbol lovers dance with fervor and sing in unison at the top of their collective voice.
Lest we forget, drama. The pitch offers some of the best acting in the world. Oww, oww, oww. Trips, gouges and sometimes blood. You almost can confuse soccer with swimming because of the number of dives in a match. The players pull shirts, hold, elbow, push and shove.
Players themselves reflect their inner qualities with body art, shoes from sponsoring companies, and most of all, hair. Bald abounds as does long with headband, dreads, and Beckham spiked. If they had to make a living by carrying a tune, forget it.
Give me futbol any day.
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I dread my visit to the heart doc today. Not so much the reasons for going as the wait when I get there. The waiting time can run from one to three hours in a packed waiting room that often spills out into the hall. I will go prepared today. A book and a bottle of water. I will probably see the doc all of five minutes if I am lucky. While this irritates me to no end, my heart doc ranks as one of the top ones in the city. * * *
Bittersweet. That's my mood today, dude. Later.
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