Italy has won the World Cup. Hurrah for them. Now go away and leave me alone for another four years.
Actually, two years if I take the European Cup into consideration.
As you can tell, I don't care very much for football. Or any manner of sport. But sometimes you need to feel like you must keep abreast of the greatest game in the world tournament. I slept through the third and fourth placing match on Saturday. On Sunday, when I left the house, I had no idea who won. So I tried to decipher that from the Shin Min the guy on the train next to me was reading. Never would I have imagined that I would read a Chinese newspaper for football scores. I surprised myself that I knew the Chinese for Germany and Portugal.
On Sunday, since I still was up at that late hour, I felt I should watch the Cup Final. I lasted until half-time and that's when I fell asleep, lulled by 15 minutes of ads. The funny thing was that L, who was asleep earlier, got up to watch the second half. So you could say that between us, we watched the whole match. Great partnership eh? I watched Zinedine score the penalty. I watch the Italians equalise. At this point, I realised that I did not know the name of a single Italian player. The only thing that went through my head as I watched them running up and down and around was: Who designed their jerseys? That swath of dark blue under the arms make them look like they all had sweat patches under the arm pits. And what's the font for the players' names on the back? Nice font.
Guess this is how a woman watches football huh?
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