I am not a soccer fan. My son played for years and I sat through countless games supporting him. He became an All Star player and truly loved it. I would cheer him on and wait for something to happen. Anything to happen. Running back and forth across a field for an hour was just not exciting. I was certain when my son stopped playing my soccer days were over.
He gave it up years ago but I would occasionally see a great goal on the news and think that if they could guarantee I would get an amazing moment in each game, I might be able to watch it. Since that was not going to happen, I happily walked away from the game I sat through for 10 years and moved on to the greatest sport ever, hockey.
My friend Daniel is English and he loves soccer, or football as it were. By love it of course I mean he is obsessed with it and can give you details that would indicate he is wired like an encyclopedia. His love for the Chelsea team is deep and passionate. He speaks of the players as if he was their childhood friend, which is actually quite cute.
It must be an English thing. My father was English and a diehard fan of Manchester United. I’m not allowed to discuss that with Daniel. He’s very sensitive about Chelsea. By sensitive of course I mean they are the only team that matter and other teams are not to be mentioned unless it’s in a conversation about how Chelsea kicked their asses.
I am a good friend, so in an attempt to support Daniel, I am trying to learn about his passion. He does not know my watching Chelsea will result in his having to sit though some serious reality television with me, but I’m waiting until after the soccer season to break the news to him. For now we are focused on Chelsea, and reality television will have to wait.
Not only have I watched games with Daniel, I listen to daily updates about how the boys of Chelsea are doing. I ask questions, fake interest, pretend to be fascinated, and support him like a friend should. That was in the beginning. Things are very different now. It turns out that soccer, while very complicated with its rules, is a sea of gorgeous men.
Apparently there is a rule of some kind that demands that soccer players have near perfect bodies, washboard stomachs, butts that you can pop a quarter off of, and legs you can envision being wrapped around you. Soccer players are simply divine looking, and this sport is worth watching because there is beauty and sexiness to be seen.
It’s not just the players that are interesting. The managers are intriguing men and I have narrowed my sights on two truly divine specimens. Jose Mourinho is the Manager of the Real Madrid team and he is delicious. Roberto Di Matteo is the Interim Manager of Chelsea and I have decided that he needs to be offered the manager job for real.
Roberto seems sweet to me. He is always wearing a gorgeous coat to the games, which may not matter to some, but I think is important. He is doing a great job and they need to remove Interim from his title. I don’t understand how this games works, and it’s too complicated for me to give it any serious study, but I know they are winning with him in the post.
Jose is yummy. By yummy of course I mean I want to run my fingers through his hair and have him talk to me in Portuguese. There is something sexy about him in a James Bond kind of way. He looks like a bad boy who got away with a lot because he is so handsome. He also used to be the Manager of Chelsea. It turns out soccer is all rather incestuous.
Soccer is the ultimate in reality television and each team should have their own show. From the rivalries, to the rules that make no sense, this sport is fascinating and the fans are a big part of that. Americans are into football and baseball, but this is different. This is a sexy sport in terms of the men who play, but also because people are so passionate about it.
Soccer fans are a little nutty when it comes to their teams. There is history and memories and opinions and grudges. Soccer is not as popular in the States as it is in Europe and I think it’s because woman have not discovered it. Go to a pub during a game and it’s like being a kid in a candy store. There are European men everywhere and they are easy to read.
You spot the one you like and within seconds you know what his team is, then you scream for that team. That’s all it takes. He buys you a drink, and you play dumb about the game so he can explain it to you. By play dumb of course I mean just be yourselves because unless you grew up with this game you will never understand what they are talking about.
Poor Daniel has tried to explain the point system and I’m just not getting it. I have no real interest in learning of course, but still, it’s complicated. Soccer is a game that sexy men play and sexy men watch. They are not all gorgeous of course, but if you’re lucky, you find a handsome man with a sexy accent. Soccer is a sea of men for women.
I am slowly becoming a fan of this game. By this game of course I mean Daniel, but you do what you’ve got to do. It turns out that soccer is quite fun. Each game is like a great party that could erupt into a war at any given moment. I am watching, learning, and starting to get it. Not really, but if I say I’m getting it enough times maybe I will.
Chelsea plays on Wednesday against Barcelona and Daniel is both excited and terrified. He wants them to win badly and so I hope they do. I will always love Manchester United, but today I am a fan of Chelsea. I will keep Jose in my fantasies, and Roberto in my prayers. These men are sexy and I have not even mentioned the perfection that is David Beckham.
I will probably always be more of a fan of the men than the game, but who knows. Perhaps watching Chelsea winning the FA Cup will be just what I need to embrace the sport. It turns out soccer is rather exciting, so I am going to give it a chance. To the blue boys of Chelsea, I wish you well against Barcelona, am buying my celery, and keeping the faith.
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