Soccer Joy: I’m Tired Just Watching

My monitor at work, 1st half Brazil v. North Korea. Poor composition blamed on fatigue.

My enjoyment of reading “Fever Pitch” is tempered only by the moments I kick myself for not having read it sooner.  But then again, I truly believe that art, music and literature arrive in our lives at the exact moment we are meant to have it.  This is true too for the times that we are exposed to art/music/lit and we simply don’t get it.  It lays the foundation for an epiphany to come.  And so, all the soccer joy I have had in my life was actually preparing me for my absolute worship of Nick Hornby’s memoir of his “obsession.”  (Yes, I did just also compare soccer to art, music and literature.  Hope you caught that.)  I think I will just start re-reading it when I finish, I can’t get enough.

I am currently exhausted, mostly from sleep deprivation trying to get up extra early to watch World Cup matches, and not going to bed earlier to compensate, mainly because I am stubborn.  Then there are the wild adrenaline spikes while watching games through the morning, whether stifled in my cube or over at the sports bar across the street.  At least there it is okay to shout and commiserate audibly.  This constant reversal of energies is quite tiresome.  Due to this soccer-zombie existence to which I have succumbed, I have been too stupid to write sooner, and honestly forgot that I also had to devote two nights this week to the Laker-Celtic finals, which mercifully end tonight, Laker domination is expected.  There has not been this much ESPN on my TV since I was married!

Must try to sleep to write more soccer joy…

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