Reflections on a World Cup

As I biked the 70 k Linguere-Barkedji-Linguere route today and listened to Jim Noir on my iPod, I remembered this excellent commercial from the 2006 World Cup, which used Noir’s “Eanie Meanie” as background music and featured French star Zinedine Zidane before he both won the Golden Ball and, in that infamous head-butting incident, very publicly self-destructed, forever tarnishing his legacy. Ahh, the ups and downs of a World Cup…



I don’t like commercials, but I love World Cup commercials almost as much as I love the World Cup. No matter how cheesy the commercials--or in the case of the catchy Coca Cola ad from the most recent Cup, questionably racist (last time I checked, African children are not secretly lions, and do not bound over trees and cliffs in the bush, Simba style), I always end up associating them with the anticipation and excitement of that special month every four years when the entire world almost forgets to keep breathing.



Viewing the games this time around, many on the Linguere bar’s cable television over a cold beer, I felt comforted by the familiarity of my experience. Since my childhood I’ve been watching the World Cup in public places surrounded by rabid soccer fans. I still vividly remember the day in 1994 when my dad and I watched Italy’s overtime victory over Nigeria at the Italian Community Center in Milwaukee. We had to root for the underdogs in secret, for fear of retribution by the animated Italians.

There is something so nice about the way World Cups punctuate a lifetime. The four years spent waiting for the next one can seem interminable, the changes that occur in those four years insignificant. And yet time passes and life does change. I can’t believe it’s already been four years since I watched England lose to Portugal on penalties at Hawk’s Bar in Madison, and sixteen years now since the World Cup came to the U.S. and I religiously filled out the results of every match on a giant chart in my room.

Knowing that every four years, no matter where I might be in the world, I’ll be able to sit down with other fans and devote 90—or 120—minutes to watching beautiful passes, stunning goals, career-defining wins and heartbreaking losses is important to me. And the universality of the World Cup viewing experience has gotten me to thinking about all the things I do here in Senegal to give my life a sense of normalcy.

I may live in the desert in Africa, but I can still cook myself an elaborate dinner for no special reason. I can still walk the dog at sunset or take a long bike ride on an unfamiliar road just to explore. I can still start, and occasionally finish, a Sunday New York Times crossword puzzle. These are the things that I do to feel alive.

I often tell newer volunteers that the single best piece of advice I can give them is to make themselves happy, no matter what it takes, because no one else here is going to do it for them--spend an entire morning reading trashy magazines or buy yourself that cold soda (I’m talking to you, Brian Math). At no other point in our lives will we have to advocate so strongly for our own happiness.

So, thanks, South Africa, for hosting a beautiful World Cup that made me so happy and reminded me that no matter how far I may be from home, I am never too far from something familiar.