A Tournament Free of Cliché

I love listening to the English announce soccer matches. It's not just Martin Tyler, either, as so many of them exhibit a commentary style like brandy poured over gravel. It's almost soothing in its reservation, smooth and warm and biting in its wit.

Compared to the typical statistic-laden drivel that spills out of television sets during American sporting events, announcing in the beautiful game--at least for the English--is an exercise in understatement, in allowing the moment to take center stage while playing accessory to the budding storylines and building tension inherent in every game.

There's a naivete in the American coverage of this World Cup, with its reliance on rankings and pass completion rates and tackle win percentages. Call it Puritan nature rearing its ugly head again, but Americans are always trying to break games down into discrete moments, as though the entire game is merely a fraction to be reduced to its basic parts and measured.

You simply have to chuckle when something as obscene and foolhardy rolls across the bottom of your screen as "Paraguay have a 67.3% chance of winning according to some ESPN Power Ranking Index Formula."

While it may be comforting to some to think that this is a game that can be figured out by scientists in white coats in some Connecticut laboratory, that put a smile on my face.

In the wake of the United States' exit from the World Cup, there was the inevitable backlash of the Angry White Sportswriter against a sport they've never understood and yet, by virtue of their profession, have to address.

To paint with a pretty broad brush here, sports columnists are already a pretty crotchety bunch and most have little time or patience to learn about soccer, content to fill their requisite column inches with scorn for the game rather than appreciation.

It's one of the reasons why the sport has such difficulty finding purchase with American audiences. Soccer is a game expressed not in hard numbers and small moments, but as play acted out in multiple parts.

There are the crescendos, of course, but they're the result of a long series of moves and measures designed to flesh out the conflict at hand.

Americans love to rank things. It's one of our obsessions as a country. Perhaps it's because in most major categories, Americans find themselves at the top. Whether it's defense spending or medal counts, Americans love to be first.

Or, at the very least, to know who is first and try to beat them.

This game just doesn't work that way. Most fans know that the FIFA rankings are largely the errand of a group of unfortunate souls who would probably find better job satisfaction attempting to predict the weather than the precise hierarchy of world football.

There is no first. There are favorites, of course, and trendy picks and plucky underdogs. But the lack of discrete events in soccer--at least, as opposed to football, baseball and basketball--doesn't lend itself to statistical analysis.

There are no batting averages in this game, no playbooks. This does result in less scoring, of course, but every action is the result of not only each team's ability level and preparation, but their creativity.

It's why teams are so often ascribed a character as their performances on the field are the result of their passions, not just what they were trained to do.

Like a Chaucerian fairy tale, the World Cup plays out with each nation playing the part we as fans have come to know them as.

The buoyant Brazilians, the efficient Germans, the cagey Italians, the nervy Englishmen, the organized Greeks and the gritty Americans.

And yet, anyone who pays attention can clearly see that each nation, even those that seem to exhibit a universal style or organization, is made up of a complex prism of personalities, the history of each coming out in their play.

Still as fans we try to simplify things to attempt to fit them into tight little narratives, smoothing over the cracks as best we can and moving on until time pushes them so far away our eyes can no longer tell the difference.

In the end it's important to remember that each of these players, united by common goal here but rarely by common history, playing for millions in front of billions, came from some simple background.

But even that is now a cliche, to say that these are the once-impoverished boys made kings, granted the talent to elevate them from their days running through barrios and 'hoods and favelas and suburbs and ghettos and alentours.

So it's more important to realize that these cliches only hold a limited amount of truth. Or alternatively, they're merely a piece of the truth, a crime of omission.

The Brazilians, for example, play a beautiful brand of football. They enjoy inventing new angles, new flicks, new ways to entertain and score goals.

They're also an incredibly tough, physical group and always have been. The front players have always gotten the plaudits, but it's the steel of their sweeping, aggressive back lines that did the work to secure five World Cups.

The Germans, too, are not always the brutally efficient taskmasters that they are made out to be. While certainly tough, Franz Beckenbauer was still one of the most technically gifted passers of his day. Just because he did most of his attacking from a central defensive position doesn't negate the fact that he'd feel right at home in gold and blue.

so please, move beyond cliche.

You might just see the game you've been missing all along.

The 66th Parallel: USA and England and What's Left

A round of sixteen match, two countries, facing elimination and the weight of expectation, playing without their first-choice center backs.

A long, desperate clearance is allowed to bounce as an opposing striker marauds through the center and finds just enough strength to get some purchase on the ball to beat the goalkeeper and take the lead.

One goal came early in the game, setting off a powder keg of goals that would knock out tournament heavyweights England. The other came late, sending out tournament surprise, the United States.

USA and England. Two countries, both knocked out of this World Cup in similar fashion. Two sides unable to come up with goals when necessary, two sides unable to perform to the level expected by their supporters.

For the Americans, this was an extra time let down for an exhausted side that gave everything at this World Cup but that, in four games, only ever led for three minutes.

For the English, it was a poor showing by a side that expects better given the caliber of coach and player that populate their roster.

And yet, they both find themselves in the same position, looking in different directions.

For the English, one now has to look back; back to a qualifying campaign with little energy, to 1966, back at this past generation of players, not yet done but surely past their best come World Cup 2014. Steven Gerrard, Frank Lampard, Ashley Cole, Rio Ferdinand, Jamie Carragher--all world class, all with so little to show from international competition this decade.

If Wayne Rooney thought himself under pressure now, imagine in 2014 without so many other big names to keep tabloid pens focused beyond him.

For the Americans, this is a time to look forward; to what might be, to players under development, to stars yet unknown . While Landon Donovan has surely cemented his reputation among the all-time players for the country, he will be 32 come the next World Cup. While his goals are crucial, this is a young team that has to look forward to players like Clint Dempsey, Benny Feilharber, Michael Bradley and Jozy Altidore.

Altidore, most of all. His strength and nose for the ball is readily apparent and his placement in Europe will give him the technical prowess necessary to put that natural ability to use. I say without reservation that he could be the leading goalscorer of this tournament right now were his development further along, so rich have his chances been.

And yet, he goes home without a goal, though with the consolation prize of some crucial development.

His hold up play is superb. He's incredibly strong and is composed on the ball. His understanding to lay the ball off to Clint Dempsey against Algeria got the U.S. their goal in that game and his square ball to Benny Feilharber in the box should've resulted in another against Ghana.

And yet he seems to lack that polished finishing touch that mark the great strikers of the game. He just didn't seem to find his scoring touch in this World Cup. But at just 20 years of age (21 in November), he's got a big four years ahead of him for club and country.

While the U.S. has to completely revamp their defensive setup before next World Cup, there is hope up front for a country that has never had a world class striker. The Germans showed England, with Miroslave Klose nipping the first goal of that game, just why that's so important.

You don't need a player likely to win a World Player of the Year, as Klose likely never will, to do well in a World Cup. You simply need someone who knows how to put the ball in the back of the net in any way possible, as Klose does.

It's not fair to pin American hopes to Altidore and rely on him to lead this team. He's the youngest player on the roster. Much is expected, but others must shoulder the load.

Still, Altidore and the other young Americans can look at this experience and be proud of their effort while looking forward to the future with cautious hope. Clearly the increased visibility of Americans playing for European clubs is paying dividends as Americans have the technical ability and training to survive overseas, where true talents are reformed.

This is not an indictment of MLS, but the U.S. can't expect its players to develop the kind of technical ability required to reach a World Cup in the MLS's open, unrefined style.

The Americans have a long road to walk and a lot of development before they can consider a round of 16 knockout a disappointment, but they're on the right track.

England and those national team players now look back at this era with a bit of wistful despair, knowing that one of the best generations of English talent has been unable to ever find the right combination of touches to play at the level they're capable of for their clubs.

They've walked a long road and come a long way together for club and country, but they have to look at this round of 16 exit as nothing short of a disappointment, proof they never found the right track.

A generation on the rise, a generation now gone.

The World Cup as Starmaker

In many ways, football has changed.

When Arsenal midfielder Cesc Fabregas strikes the cries from supporters watching live don't just spill over the Emirates Stadium walls and into Ashburton Grove, but throughout the world.

Satellite television has pushed the popularity of the major European leagues to incredible new heights and a player like Christiano Ronaldo is as likely to have his shirt worn by kids in Pakistan as he is in Portugal.

Despite the fact that the quality of play in these leagues routinely rises above that of the World Cup, the tournament currently on play in South Africa still can't be rivaled for its ability to make stars out of the world's best.

It's been that way since Pele, a precocious 17-year-old, stepped onto the World Stage at the 1958 World Cup in Sweden, scoring six goals--two in the final match, including The Sombrero--and ushering in his own legend.

That World Cup, the first to be displayed internationally on television, has laid the foundation for every tournament since and while Pele didn't win the golden boot (that went to Just Fontaine who scored an amazing 13 in his only World Cup appearance, two shy of the career record that took Ronaldo three tournaments to match.), he became arguably the first international superstar in the football world.

In 2010, stars come readily-packaged to the World Cup. Millions (if not billions) know the names of Christiano Ronaldo, Lionel Messi, Wayne Rooney, Fernando Torres and others before they ever set foot on South African soil.

These days, the World Cup is less about building one's legend than it is about earning it.

That is the footballing world we live in today, where pressure is possibly higher now than it ever was for Pele.

Winning the World Cup is still everything, but when everyone expects you to play for country with the same ability and consistency that one does for club--where one has the benefit of extensive training and experience with one's teammates year-round--every mistake only becomes magnified.

Some have already risen to the occasion in the opening matches, such as David Villa who managed two finely taken goals in Spain's win over Honduras yesterday.

Perhaps the man with the most at risk this month is Christiano Ronaldo, whom many have pegged as the most dangerous man in this tournament.

His performance in the rout over North Korea was solid if not superb as Portugal employed lock-pick precision to open up the gates of what looked to be a very capable and dangerous defense for the first 29 minutes before Raul Meireles opened up the game with the first goal.

Stuck chasing the game needing to avoid a loss and catch Portugal, North Korea was smoked by a Portuguese team too motivated and too alert to slip up with the lead.

Still, World Cup legends are written with goals and Ronaldo needs to produce a heap more if he's going to continue on this track. He's already hit the post twice with vicious strikes that each would've been among the best goal scored in this tournament, but close doesn't count in this game.

This has been a World Cup that, for the most part, has been bereft of otherworldly performances.

Messi has been absent, though Higuain could cement his spot as a world-beater if he keeps up his scoring streak.

As the World Cup enters the knockout rounds, where legends are truly made, the future looms large for all remaining.

A Unified France, a Still Dangerous Italy and Other Myths

Anybody who has been paying attention over the last eight months to the sputtering reign of coach Raymond Domenech over the French national team would've expected the on-field performances that France have put forth.

Listless. Boring. Disjointed.

There's hardly a negative adjective you could reach for that wouldn't apply to this French team, a shadow of their 2006 selves.

In truth the French team, much like the Italian squad, is having difficulty moving beyond last generation's well-known group of stars.

Thierry Henry, France's all-time leading goalscorer, has hardly played this past season despite being healthy, only appearing as a substitute against Uruguay for the last 20 minutes. It was telling that when Nikolas Anelka told his coach to, in so many French nothings, go f--k himself, Henry was not the chosen replacement.

Instead he sat on the bench watching his team lose 2-0 to Mexico. Why Domenech would leave one of the most gifted French players of all time on the bench in a game where a single goal might have changed momentum might have well been the topic of discussion in the last two days, had Anelka not become the symbol for strife in the French camp.

Anelka has always invited controversy, though never to this level. Still, one can do a lot better than to simply blame all of France's woes on Anelka.

The problems with France reach back much further than that when the leaders of the French football federation simply didn't have the will to fire Domenech. With Zinedine Zidane taking his infamous exit in the 2006 final, Henry unable to get a game in Barcelona, Claude Makelele no longer in the national picture and William Gallas a risk from an injury standpoint, this World Cup campaign was always going to be about younger French stars emerging.

By keeping Domenech as coach of the squad France's team has been left straddled between two generations that seem to play completely different styles. Henry and Gallas are the oldest on the team, with both sharing their 33rd birthday this August 17--which would make them downright sprightly by Italian standards--and yet neither really provides the natural leadership that Zidane and Makelele did over the past decade.

France's poor showing at the 2008 European Championships was an unexpected roadblock for a group that had just made a World Cup final and had won both a European and World title in the previous 10 years.

That 2008 tournament might've been the cap to one of the finest generations of footballers any European nation had ever enjoyed. Instead it should've been the signal that the national team required new blood, new leadership and a new mentality that looked forward.

In the end it was neither.

We're now left with a France team that feels like a national embarrassment. The only unified effort they've shown at this tournament is deciding to not train for a coach they despise, a coach that would have been fired months ago if Henry hadn't used his arm to send France to a World Cup they never belonged in.

Conversely, the Italians seem to be on the opposite end of the continuum. A group of old, experienced hands that are just four years removed from a World Cup triumph, the Italians seem quite unified.

Unfortunately, they're a team that looks exactly the way one might expect: a group of 30-somethings that just finished a long club season and now has to go play at altitude in a South African winter because the Italian national coaches seem to think there's no young Italians with any talent.

As their 1-1 draw with New Zealand today showed, sometimes fresh legs make all the difference. This is a team playing with real spirit, but a team whose time has passed.

Despite their differences off the field, Italy and France are suffering from the same disease: an inability to put the past to bed and embrace the future, whatever may come. In football, it's never easy to tell former heroes that they're too old and it's even more difficult to forecast how a player will perform years down the line, but it's important for national teams to know when to say goodbye to certain players so that the young players can develop.

It's also not as simple as putting names on a teamsheet as, even in periods of transition, a national team coach's job is always dependent on results and thus always at risk.

A perfect example of the right way to do things is Brazil who have not only put the time of Ronaldo, Ronaldinho, Rivaldo and Romario behind them, but have driven forward with an entirely new brand of football that looks foreign in Brazilian colors.

Brazil's manager Dunga has made no secret, from the day he was hired, about his plans for this World Cup: embrace youth, bring in new blood to the national team and show the world a brand of Brazilian football that goes beyond fancy tricks; show the world a Brazil that is gritty, tough, that gets results.

From picking relatively unknown players to asking beloved but mercurial and out of form Ronaldinho to stay home, Dunga has had to make many courageous moves in his time as manager.

France, Italy, Brazil.

Winners of the past four World Cups.

And yet here, in 2010, it's those who have looked to the future who look most likely to emulate the recent past.

Day Six: Reality Met, Destiny Questioned

Uruguay 3 - South Africa 0

Spain 0 - Switzerland 1

With apologies to Chile and Honduras, the World Cup is famous for days like today.

The World Cup is commonly thought of as a month-long tournament for the 32 teams involved. In reality, the seeds for each tournament are planted long before, often before the final ball is kicked at the previous tournament.

Qualification begins years in advance involving (nearly) every team in the world. For 31 teams to join the host country, the dreams of dozens of nations have to first be crushed long before the finals can even begin.

And of course before the month is out 31 teams will have to fall by the wayside before a champion is crowned. Yet after years of preparation, years of struggle, and years of qualification, watching a team fail here, in the group stages, often feels more bitter for all the promise that comes from being involved in the proceedings.

That's where the paths of South Africa and Spain now meet, both losers on the day. While both countries will be upset that they lost on the day, of course, these are two teams with remarkably different expectations placed upon them.

South Africa are trying to avoid the relative embarrassment of being the first host nation to not advance out of the group stages while Spain, the prohibitive favorites in a largely unpredictable tournament format, look to avoid the kind of slow start that has doomed the chances of equally promising sides in the past.

After their promising opening point against Mexico, South Africa's destiny is now clearly laid in front of them: defeat a struggling but incredibly talented French side or consent to spend the rest of the month watching your guest nations continue to battle for the World Cup.

In truth, knocking off France may still not be enough as, in losing by three goals to Uruguay yesterday, they'd realistically have to hope that Mexico lose or draw with Uruguay for an upset of France to mean anything more than pride.

That's really what this World Cup has always been about for South Africa, as the pride of being the host nation is greatly magnified by performing well in the tournament, especially for those host countries that are not among the world's elite.

Most of the host countries in the past have performed so well because they are among the world's elite, though FIFA's recent desire to bring the tournament to new, smaller nations has put that record to the test. Even if South Africa accomplish what seems impossible on paper, it won't be long before another host finds themselves on the outside looking in when the knockout stages begin.

Certainly performing well enough to send Mexico and France home early might not be the act of a gracious host, though I doubt anyone would begrudge South Africa for trying.

At the very least, South Africa will look to give France a game that will be remembered, if more for the effort than the result.

Spain, conversely, do not yet have an obvious path before them, but their opening day loss to Switzerland will do no favors for those looking to silence the critics of the country's past performances at international tournaments, Euro 2008 aside.

Four points from three games is usually enough to secure a place in the knockout stages, but three of those points have to come at the expense of Chile or else Spain will face a group stage exit alongside South Africa--though I doubt the reaction of the Spanish fans will be that of pride at the end result.

This is the beauty of the World Cup, as even after most of the world has been eliminated from competition, there is still generally such a disparity in the quality of sides left as to produce such differing reactions to similar fates.

We won't know how Spain respond to the idea of going out early until they take on Honduras four days from now, but South Africa have surely entertained the thought since the day the names of their groupmates were pulled out of the pot.

No matter if South Africa are able to play themselves into the knockout stages or not, their effort is to be applauded at this World Cup. Not merely for being the host nation or for taking on countries with more advanced soccer pedigree than their own, but for the positive way in which they've played.

Even when they conceded the first goal against Uruguay, they remained positive in their play, driving forward looking to create goals rather than hold firm and stop the bleeding. They could have played a cynical, smothering style against Mexico and Uruguay, bunkering in and hoping to catch their opponents on the break and steal a 1-0 victory.

Instead they've pushed forward when on the ball and, while technically one could criticize their performances on a technical level for not involving their best player Steven Pienaar or holding possession better, their effort is largely beyond reproach.

They'll likely wake today feeling a little less optimistic about their showing in this tournament, but five days is a long time to get over a defeat, even with France looming large in what will likely be their final game.

Given the way they've responded to the challenge of hosting the tournament and their placement in a difficult group, I expect the South Africans to be celebrating after their next match, whether it's their final one in this world tournament or not.

Jabulani: The Silent, Silent Partner

For those new to the international game, you'll quickly learn that footballers, whose skills vary wildly from one position to the next, all share one magnificent trait: the ability to blame poor performance on inanimate objects.

When Martin Tyler stated for ESPN that Robert Green's horrific gaffe against the United States would have rated poorly by schoolboy standards, many were quick to suggest that it must have been that pesky ball, scourge of keepers everywhere, that caused the goal.

Jabulani may mean "rejoice" in the Zulu language, but in the shell-game language of assigning post-match blame, it merely means "Don't look at me."

To Green's credit he seemed to want no part in the usual game of passing the buck, that most famous of all World Cup side-shows. Given the gravity of his error, that was admirable and it shows a mental toughness that I think will allow him to shrug off the error and go about his work.

Of course, blaming the ball for your team's poor performance after the fact is the stuff of amateurs. The real experts know you have to make a show of the ball before the game is even played, as the Mexican national team is doing by having their keepers train with American Footballs instead of the World Cup ball in practice.

Whether anyone suggested that the closest approximation to the World Cup ball might be, you know, an actual World Cup ball instead of an oval piece of leather is probably beside the point, the Mexicans have their ready-made excuse should their keepers live up to the current standard of play at this tournament.

The most common touchstone for American viewers and journalists about the problems with the ball (as for many it's probably the only game they've watched) has been their fortunate goal against England, though how a round ball can be said to have a "tricky flight" when it is hit so tamely it bounces twice before it even reaches the goalkeeper is beyond me.

The ball has always been the most nefarious of World Cup participants, though. The ball is as much a marketing tool as it is a part of the game as the design, made iconic simply by its association with the World Cup, is applied across several different versions of the ball, ranging in price from $20 to the $150 USD for the official version and, of course, available at your local retailer or wherever devious sporting equipment is sold.

This happens every four years as a new ball is designed and released to a public waiting to insult it as an affront to the game. Never mind that every single criticism lobbed against this ball was levied at the ball Adidas designed for the 2006 World Cup, which produced plenty of long range goals that didn't require a wonky flight to beat the goalkeeper:




What is usually overlooked is that the ball has been available since the beginning of the year commercially and certainly was made available to the national teams well in advance of that. There's no excuse for blaming the ball for having unusual flight characteristics, especially since the ball has been used not only since March in the MLS, but also in the Africa Cup of Nations and the Argentine Torneo Clausura this past year.

The ball, like every ball, flies in unique ways, but there's no reason a team playing for the World Cup shouldn't have taken ample time to learn what those ways are and adapt to them, especially if you've already participated in a tournament or league that uses the ball.

In reality, Jabulani is going to fly based on a number of different factors. Chief among them is going to be altitude, as several of the stadiums sit at sea level while others are more than a mile above that, with no middle ground between them.

The ball is already designed to reduce drag, but the stadiums themselves create an environment where those characteristics will be enhanced. Still, scoring as a whole is down for the World Cup and is bound to increase dramatically as nerves settle down, Jabulani aside.

That's the real key here: nerves. Players in the World Cup tend to play timid, especially in their opening matches. Most teams are content to play out a 1-1 draw rather than chase the game. Rather than be adventurous in an unfamiliar environment, most teams would rather remain disciplined and compact and not attack wildly.

As teams get a second game under their belt and have their destinies more clearly laid out, they'll be forced to go out and win games and we'll truly see the World Cup we've all been waiting for.

Either way, for those of you new to this game, I say: welcome to the World Cup, where if your team loses the only thing more crooked than the refs is the flight of the ball.

The World Cup is Important: A Plead to Watch

If you're reading this, I'm probably talking to the wrong person.

That's an odd way to begin this post, but if you're reading this, you're likely already tuning in.

Still, as the World Cup begins in earnest, vuvuzelas humming in living rooms throughout the world, I find myself compelled to reach out to those not watching and ask why.

Instead of phrasing the mystery as some sort of rhetorical question, I'll try to explain what this cup is all about. Being an American, I'm exposed to that most unique creature among sporting fans: the person who is completely disinterested, if not baffled, by the World Cup.

Like some quadrennial haze that seems to fall on the sporting world for a month, the World cup is dismissed as an oddity by many Americans; insulated on our own continent the World Cup intrudes, like some trick of the light, a mirage of color and sound and announcers with funny accents. You've gotten some soccer highlights in my Sportscenter, they cry.

And yet, the World Cup is important.

Cue where I fail as a writer, but I can't explain why it's important. Most have tried and failed to show Americans that it's worth the price of admission, but we tend to end up charging the same well-guarded walls with the same tired tactics.

It's the most world's most popular sport.
It's bigger than the Super Bowl.
The Americans are actually pretty good this time.
It only happens every four years.
The rest of the world is watching.

These arguments fall on tired ears, of course, and the last sixty years of politicking aside, your typical American is still very much an isolationist when it comes to sporting matters, the country content to show up every four years, collect its gold at the Olympics, and return home to its own obsessions.

The problem ultimately becomes one of language. Not because we call it soccer and the world calls it football, but simply that for many the game is so ingrained in their souls that to discuss it with someone foreign to it requires the establishment of a middle ground, like building an island amidst a vast ocean of unshared experience.

I think most would agree that is at least has the feel of an Important Event, inviting attention. Even casual observes seem to be turning out more each year, miraculously able to withstand the growing hum of the bee's nest each stadium has become to actually watch the game and observe, hoping to see something akin to what everyone's so obsessed with.

In many ways this is like watching a foreign-language soap opera and hoping to pick up the gist of it. It just doesn't work that way.

The World Cup is unlike what most Americans see on ESPN on a daily basis, though, where the most common touchstone for international competition, the Olympics, seems to trade almost exclusively on individual achievement rather than what each country does as a team.

With a sporting culture obsessed with the cult of personality, this isn't an easy thing to accept, though it's perhaps the greatest aspect of the sport's premier event. The World Cup is not the highest quality football being played on the planet, but it is the greatest football because the stakes are so much higher.

And yet, despite the fact that the game naturally creates these larger than life personalities, it's difficult for American fans to become attached the way we gravitate toward American athletes.

There have only been 18 World Cups since the competition began in Uruguay in 1930, when Uruguay was still a soccer power developing the then-nascent short passing game that has come to define South American sides since.

Each World Cup carries with it an immense amount of gravity as each national team puts on familiar colors and once again picks up the thread of past victories and past defeats.

The Olympics and most American sports tend to be observed from the perspective that athletes are there to best history as well as each other.

The World Cup, however, tends to lend itself to nations attempting to live up to history or, for those countries too new or too poor to have won the cup previously, to move beyond the introductory chapters and write their own stories.

More than anything, the World Cup is important because it is a shared experience. Sons share the experience with their fathers and grandfathers, with stories of past glories being passed on (with only the barest of embellishments, of course), stored away for the sole purpose of being passed on once again.

Beyond that, nations that could exist on different planets for how differently many of their citizens live can all speak the same language, whether with their feet as players or their song as supporters.

As I said previously, the argument "well the rest of the world is doing it" is hardly the most convincing for American ears, but it touches on what makes the World Cup truly momentous.

It is a month where you are guaranteed to witness history alongside half your species. True, it is the history of a silly, little game that is no more special or powerful than any other child's game. Yet it is a game that will turn grown men into blubbering children, that will turn the most solemn creatures into raving lunatics.

But if the World Cup reminds us of anything it's that even though we are a people capable of inflicting unspeakable horror on ourselves and others, at the bottom of it all we were all once just children kicking the final goal by imaginary keepers and through makeshift posts, dreaming of what could be.

The World Cup calls us home to those halcyon days, showing that maybe we weren't all so different once.

And that's a very important thing to know about ourselves.