by Around My kitchen Table
I'm a Brit so I know I'm treading on dodgy ground when I start talking about sport. The Aussies whip our asses regularly in rugby, the Kiwis whip our asses regularly in cricket, and the whole of the world whips our asses regularly in tennis, athletics and, our supposedly national game, football.
We don't mind too much; we have a culture which glorifies the "gallant loser" -
and we've had plenty of practice in that fixed "no, no it's perfectly OK that you've beaten our team (combined worth £300-million) 7-0, you part-time team of taxi drivers and plumbers" look.
For my American readers, by football I mean soccer. My friends across the pond, I understand, tend to think that soccer is a game for cissies, girls and little people under the age of 11.
Half a dozen of you may have heard of Pele and one or two of you may have heard of David Beckham, but only because he's the other half of a Spice Girl and is the new best friend of Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes.
So forget about America and Britain being two nations divided by a common language (to coin a phrase from George Bernard Shaw), we are two nations divided by the shape of our balls. Yours are oval and ours are round.
Americans are under the misapprehension that there is only one type of football game which, as far as I have been able to ascertain, involves lots of men dressed in duvets, running around like rutting stags on speed trying to beat the crap out of each other. British football is based on the ability of over-paid prima donnas being able to fool a referee by falling over and feigning imminent death if an opposing player so much as looks at them funny.
Both games have their world cups. The "proper" World Cup involves teams from all over the world (the clue is in the name) - from Bolivia to Bulgaria, Nigeria to Norway and Ireland to Italy. The American World Cup, on the other hand, involves teams from, well, America. So, novel use of the word "world" there, guys.
America usually qualifies for the Proper World Cup and next time round (South Africa, 2010) I wish them the best of luck. Because when America starts doing really well on the world stage (rather than the 'my backyard' stage), maybe they will become as passionate as the rest of the world about this most beautiful of beautiful games.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Featured Post and Blog of the Week
You Are Here
by Amie from MammaLoves...
You did well in school to get into college. You tried to get by well enough in college to be attractive to an employer or graduate program, and along the way you may have opened your heart a time or two. Maybe you even found true love.
With a foot in the door, the first years of work were the time to
prove your mettle once again. Promotions, raises all with the goal to secure your future will allow you to settle down, buy a house, travel, commit to a relationship, have kids or not. In what feels like a blink of an eye, your future is here.
And now what?
Chance Favors Only Those Who Court Her
After a less-than-friendly divorce, I was on the market again. Seizing the opportunity, my friends scoured their address books and Palm Pilots for single men and set me up on blind date after blind date. My reaction to most of those dates was, "I call these people my FRIENDS?" One of my real friends suggested Match.com, and given how much I love the Internet, I gave it a go.
A couple months of e-dating passed by in a blink. It was fun, but so far nothing meaningful had hit my radar, and my match inventory was starting to run low. You see, Match.com "matches" you to people based on a list of your requirements, and I'd pretty much run through all my existing matches who didn't seem psycho or stoned, based on their profiles.
Then, one day, I got an email from a guy who was not a match by my standards...
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A Lost Opportunity
by John from Altjiranga Mitjina
Trying to break in as a writer in the comic book industry can be a bit like the one legged man in a butt kicking contest. Every step forward you make means you land on your butt after your kick forward. Comic books are a visual medium. An artist can bring a portfolio to an editor at a convention and said editor can sit there and look at it within minutes and decide if this artist is worthy of working on the newest issue of Stupendous Man or not. Trying being a hopeful writer handing over a script to this same editor at a busy comic convention. You’ll be lucky if the editor agrees to take the script and promise that they’ll look at it later. Most times the hopeful writer is told to send for their submission guidelines and mail in their proposal.
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by Karen Rayne from Adolescent Sexuality Today with Karen Rayne, Ph.D.
This weekend I went out of town, leaving my family to fend for themselves. On Saturday, my darling husband took my two darling daughters – 6 and 3 years old – to what he heard was a fun new toy store in town. Great, right?
They walk in the door, and the 6-year-old pipes up with “Look, Daddy! Jesus toothpaste!” He takes one look, puts one hand on each girl’s shoulder, and does a 180 out of the store. It may be a fun new toy store, but it’s intended clientele does not include the under-13 set.
When I got home on Sunday, the first thing the 6-year-old says to me was, “Guess what! We saw Jesus toothpaste!” I blinked, figuring I hadn’t heard her correctly. Regrettably, I had...
A biker, a green thumb, a cracked hand, and a Queen.
A random biker on a Harley-Davidson took my picture last week. What I wanted to do was take his picture, but I hesitated. Now, instead of a photo of some random biker holding an i am bossy.com bumper sticker, all I have is a lame photo of me holding the bumper sticker and the mental picture of him riding off into the sunset, never to be seen again.
Okay, it wasn’t as romantic or dramatic as that. It was nine in the morning and there was no sunset.
This is not the first time that I have hesitated to seize an opportunity. I don’t expect it will be the last. However, I hope with each lost chance for something intriguing, I will lose a shade of that hesitation for next time...
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