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U.S. needs a kick in the
grass
Posted: Wed July 8,
1998
Possibly it was just a coincidence that the international
Ministers of Culture chose this quadrennial time of the
World Cup to meet and discuss the crisis of social hegemony
that America has established over the rest of the civilized
world. The irony,
of course, is that right now, during the
World Cup—this is the one time left in our lives when
America
has no influence over the rest of the world. All that matters
is the
futbol—that football
that America has nothing to do
with.
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After Argentina booted England out of the World Cup, devout English fans
suffered from flagging spirits.
(Doug Pensinger)
| Unfortunately, few Americans really appreciate exactly how
much the World Cup does mean to most countries on Planet
Earth. Myself, I've been fortunate enough to see the
phenomenon in several different nations. For instance, I
was in Rome
two World Cups
ago, sitting in an outdoor bar, watching the Italian team,
the Azzuri, play Argentina. When the Argentines kicked the
winning goal, the manager of the café, in anguish,
immediately turned off the TV and summarily dismissed a
capacity crowd. He didn't
want our money; he didn't want us. It was simply too depressing
for him. And we left, in
silence.
Then last week, when I was in London, two days after the
English lost, one major tabloid felt obliged to eschew all
the news and scandal to, instead, take up its entire front
page with this headline message:
COME ON EVERYONE, CHEER
UP.
Foreigners, of course, simply cannot understand
why Americans are immune to this disease. A diatribe in one
respected London newspaper last week accused us of only
liking sports we can win. In fact, this is not so. Interest
in the Ryder Cup was
virtually nonexistent, so long as we routed the British every time.
As soon as it became us vs.
all Europe, and we could—and did—get beat,
the Ryder Cup's appeal multiplied tenfold. Likewise, we've
never had the least bit of interest in the world basketball
championships, and our devotion to the Dream Team had much
more to do with art and celebrity
than with
competition.
The fact is, Americans have simply grown up without much
interest, generally, in international sport. No, we grow up
caring about Boston vs. New York, or Oklahoma against
Nebraska, and we simply don't give a hoot whether the whole
U.S. of A. can beat up
on Belgium or
Peru.
In a way, it's too bad. At World Cup time,
when I see how it is in these other countries, I always feel
jealous of them—of what they suddenly share together
as a people, as a nation; of their passion, their fearless
zeal in the face of
defeat. Sure,
we all watch the Super Bowl together, but some of us are for
one team and some for the other, and the rest of us are
just there for the afternoon's company and the good clam
dip. It's not a whole lot different than watching the
Academy Awards or Miss
America.
There are so few things that can bring people together
anymore, and the World Cup serves that purpose for so many
countries. It's excessive, of course, and a few wild young
men use it as an excuse for mayhem, but mostly it is simply
a benign and
wonderful form of patriotism, using a game instead of a war to bind
a people in common
spirit.
It's quite funny, really. As much as the game of soccer
bores me, the World Cup never fails to enthrall me.
Especially when I am experiencing it in one of its family
of nations, I am so terribly envious that we, in the
United States, don't have anything
like that to embrace us and make us all care, together.
Unlike these other countries, we don't know what it's like
to take a great big emotional risk together every four
years—probably to lose. But so what? Then we all can:
come on, cheer up, together.
And that's good,
too.
These commentaries, which appear each Wednesday on National
Public Radio's Morning Edition, are posted weekly by
CNN/SI.
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