I’ve got soccer on my mind. Yep. Somehow the thing that’s driven me back to blogging after a week away is soccer.
In my defense, I”ve been busy over the last week and I really haven’t had a chance to sit down, write a post, upload photos and press publish. It’s because it’s the end of the school year and things are busy, busy around here and school to-do list is a mile long. So long that I don’t even have a personal to-do list. Maybe today’s the day I remember to run a load of laundry.
You shouldn’t worry too much. It hasn’t been all work and no play these days. It’s just been 60% work, 20% finding ways to feed myself that don’t involve me cooking or having groceries at home and 20% sleeping. Like last night A. and I went to a new restaurant in Sofia (more details on that later). The basic recipe for success was hamburger + beer + football.
Yep. Football. Or in my mind Soccer. Or maybe I should stick with calling it football. Even though it’s soccer.
Anyhow, it turns out that there’s a big football-soccer thing going on right now. Lots of teams are playing. Lots of people are watching. And I spent a little bit of time thinking about and watching soccer, well football, well soccer.
In the course of one evening, I managed to call football soccer more times than I’d like to count.
The response? Lots of cringes. I’m sorry. But even after four years living in Europe, this is a hard habit to kick. I am not sure why because I’ve adjusted to holiday (rather than vacation), toilet (rather than bathroom) and a slew of other British English-isms. It’s also not like I’ve ever regularly watched or played this sport.
Then I went on to call the series (if I am even allowed to say this), the World Cup.
Response? Long stare. Potentially this was a slightly incredulous one but I am not thinking about that. This cup I was made to understand is not the World Cup. Oh. It’s the European Cup 2012. Turns out the World Cup is every four years as is the European Cup and there are two years that separate the two events.
I watched and watched. These guys run around a big field. A lot. I like the drama of this sport. When people get hit they like on the ground holding a body part for a while. Usually until a referee comes over or a teammate pulls them up off the ground. I think it’s interesting that the clock doesn’t stop for them when this happens. Luckily for me there’s plenty to keep me busy even though I don’t really know the rules.
This became painfully obvious when a referee made some call and I asked what the call was because sometimes these seem like important things to do.
The response? Eyes narrow. Off sides. Followed up by the question you do know what that is, don’t you? Me: Um, yes? It has to do with the line of play and the football and the location of the players on the field. This is received by a long, long pause. Then it’s explained to me.
The thing is, I woke up this morning with this question: why do I need to know what an off sides is?
Isn’t it enough if the referee knows it and calls it? Can’t I just sit back and watch men kick a ball around a field to each other while trying to score, like I always have?