Soccer: know nothing about it, never cared about it, and frankly, don't understand what people find in it. Unlike other sports, basketball, for instance, a soccer match can end with almost no action on the field. A game can actually end with no goals (but many "almosts",) and that's why it has always been my least favorite sport, and something I often referred to as "a waste of time."
Lucky me, my boyfriend is a big soccer fan. He works at Israel's Sports Channel, so he talks sports, dreams sports and breathes sports. On any other time, I would totally be okay with that, support him, even, but this week, something has happened, and I got a taste of the World Cup like I never imagined.
In his defense, I must admit he prepared me wellfor what he'd be like during the World Cup. He explained how watching the World Cup of 1994 with his grandfather was one of his most significant childhood memories, and what got him to fall in love with soccer. He explained how Argentina must win, how I must be prepared for him working late nights, and he also warned me that he might get a bit emotional, because this is a very very important event. I told him (and myself) that I completely understand, and even sat down with him for a short briefing on who is playing and who are the best players on the field. I even promised him we'd watch several games together. When the zero hour came, though, all the mental preparations went down the drain.
During the first couple of days, I felt joy just watching him being so happy. I completely related with the saying "when he's happy, I'm happy." When I woke up at 5am, panicking because he wasn't lying next to me, I soon calmed myself down, because I knew he was at work, watching the game with his buddies, and enjoying every minute of it.
Things started to escalate a couple of days ago, when I woke up to find the kitchen table was turned into an Argentina shrine of some sort. Then, I noticed we're living according to two separate schedules: I woke up in the morning, about an hour after he went to sleep, only to see him for an hour in the afternoon, after I returned from work, before he leaves for work. When our paths did cross, it was usually during lunch, before he would return to writing an article about Leo Messi and rearranging his Fantasy League, and I would return to work.
This year was the first time I related in any way to the World Cup, and it was full throttle. From not knowing and not caring, I was thrown into the middle of the action. I still don't think soccer is the sport for me, and adjusting to my boyfriend's new temporary lifestyle is not an easy task. Nonetheless, watching the love of my life this happy, this dedicated, this connected to something much bigger than anything I could probably ever understand, makes me happier than I could ever be when watching basketball by myself. Vamos, Vamos Argentina!
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