I found myself watching Dutch league football at 5am. I’d set four alarms, roll off my bed, and open my computer into Western Europe. Some nights I wouldn’t sleep, and I’d stare into the night, desperate to be sure I could enter that world.
Sleep, sleep, tweet, goal, sleep.
But when my eyes opened on those early mornings, the sense of achieved consciousness didn’t arrive. I felt myself half-dreaming, somewhere far away from a college dorm. I was somewhere in the elusive heart of Holland, with Jozy Altidore as my guide. It’s less strange than it sounds.
***
America is not a great soccer nation, and that’s a beautiful thing. The 14th best team in the world has only a minor place on the global stage, despite the blustery geo-political strength the United States brings into that distant zone. It is not much more important in domestic sports circles. People care, but not too many or too much.
No comments:
Post a Comment