World Cup Mania

Kandahar, Afghanistan

Olé! Olé-Olé-Olayy!!  

This morning at 2am I could here some football fans who had rooted for Spain celebrating their team's victory about a quarter mile up the dusty road.  We wearily made our way from the Canada House back to our barracks, stumbling a bit in the dark like some non-drunk drunks.  We had been cheering for our adopted World Cup team, the Dutch Oranje.

We have a moderately sized Dutch contingency at the Role-3.  They are a lovable bunch and we quickly adopted their team after the US got ousted a couple of weeks back.  Last weekend we got rowdy at the Dutch cafe Echoes, where the Oranje surprised the Brazilian team which was heavily favored.  I secretly think we are looking for any excuse to get festive out here, but this seemed like as good a reason as any.

The hype for the World Cup had been building for a few months before it even started.  The dining facilities (DFACs) had life-sized cutouts of famous players, none of whom I could recognize.  I'm not even sure I could pick Beckham out of a crowd.   The DFACs also had all the World Cup countries' flags hanging from them.

The best place to watch the games is where each country's inhabitants "hang out" here on base.  So if you are going to watch England play, you must go to Heroes, the UK recreation center and ice cream store.  To watch the Yanks, go to Niagra DFAC (we have an inexcusably small recreation tent that is really subpar as compared to the Canadians, Brits, or Dutch, but a new USO is on the way).  To watch the Dutch, you must go to Echoes or Dutch corner.

I'm not much of a soccer fan but the World Cup is exciting.  One thing that occurred to me as we watched a 90 minute match with only a 15 or so minute halftime, is that there are no Superbowl-style, over-the-top commercials.  In fact, there are very few commercials at all.  The play is more of an ebb-and-flow of tides moving in and out,  as opposed to American football where there is usually a lightening-strike long-bomb pass or kick-off return for a touchdown.  It's an acquired taste, and one that does not easily translate to the American palate which is used to short bursts of intense, sound bite-length, exciting plays.

Last night we watched the 90 minute game, then two 15 minute overtimes.  One goal.  That's what several months of excitement and hype came down to.  Now the life sized soccer cutouts can be taken down, the orange flag banners can be put away, and my shock orange Dutch fan wig can be sent to my daughters to play Little Orphan Annie with.

Olé!