Why I Do Not Care About the World Cup

I haven’t written anything since September. September. That’s 9 months ago. Completely unacceptable. So, now that I have today and tomorrow off, I’m going to write something. I’m not sure what yet, but I’ve found it’s easier to write about stuff I have strong feelings about. For example, the World Cup.

Wait, you say. The World Cup? I thought you weren’t into sports, Bill? I’m not. But. The World Cup seems even more pointless to me than other major sporting events usually do.

Football? Love it. Tough gameplay and sometimes ingenious mindgames. Even though I don’t keep up with it, it’s still cool.
Basketball? Love it. Slam dunks and jukes will never cease to be cool. Again, even though I don’t keep up with it, I respect it.
Hockey? Love it. Non-stop action and full body checking. Sold.
Rugby? Love it. Makes football look like a sissy-fest.

Soccer? Games can end in 0-0. (Really? No winners? How is that a game?) Players writhe in pain after being fouled by other players looking at them rudely, or even worse, making fun of their outfit. Soccer players get paid via a pay scale based on a combination of how much of a whining diva they can be and how many fantasizing female fans they can bring to the stadium. (England, you know it’s true.) And yet, somehow, every other country in the world thinks that soccer is the apex of sport and athleticism. Productivity drops in European countries during the World Cup must be absurd. Life stops, so people can watch other people run around on a big field trying to convince the world that they are the next Ronaldo.

The reason why soccer has never really caught on in America is because it involves minimal teamwork and is, essentially, wussy. Americans love precision teamwork and tough gameplay that requires more than being able to prance around in shorty-shorts.

So England? Germany? Sorry to break it to you, but we really don’t care who wins. Seriously.