The Zen of Soccer
The women’s world cup began two weeks ago, and since then I’ve been held rapt. First, by the simple prospect of watching my favorite game, second by the US Team’s campaign to repeat, and now by this final weekend’s gold and bronze medal games. Two final matches before we all have to wait another four years for our next fix, though the Olympics does give us some respite.
Watching soccer is unlike watching most if not all other sports for one big reason — no commercials. Here’s a sport built to evade the distraction that comes when commercials break the spell. American football’s certainly the worst offender, but all suffer in a way soccer doesn’t.
When soccer came to the United States in the form of the NASL, back when Pele played for the New York Cosmos, I remember howling when the directors cut away from he action for a break. “What? No!” we’d scream, and sure enough goals were scored during the breaks. On top of this, our networks also thought we wanted close-ups and quick cut angles, which we don’t. Give us one camera position from high up in the peanut gallery, and let us see the action develop. It took a few years until our networks finally relented and delivered uninterrupted soccer. No breaks for the forty-five minutes of a half. No dizzying close-ups, no slow-mo replays, or or at least not until they fit in the few moments when a ball rolls out of bounds or a ref makes a call. Yes, soccer can now be enjoyed in this country as the zen experience it is meant to be.
They call it the beautiful game, and I have to agree. The reason a zero zero game can be compelling comes down to reveling in the finesse of every pass, the grace and talent it takes to receive those passes on a dead run, and the imagination these players conjure up with building up their attacks. The game looks easy when played at world cup levels, but isn’t. These players are running up to five miles in a match, often sprinting and still able to make the ball appear tethered to their ankles. The best players can essentially catch a high arching pass on the insteps of their feet, turn, and take off in another direction while making it look like a graceful dance. The one touch volleys players like Sam Kerr and Alessia Russo lodge into the back of the net draw gasps from adoring fans, and Spain’s young phenom Salma Paralluelo is electric when she streaks towards goal. Hold on to your hats when the ball finds itself headed in any of their directions.
When watching soccer, I try to loosen my vision to encompass all the players on the field, try not follow the ball, but instead take in the expanse of play. Sometimes it’s not until the end of the game that I come to fully appreciate what I’ve just taken in, a bit like when leaving a gallery exhibit. Only when taken as a whole do I come to understand the artist. Only at the end of these broadcasts do I come to understand how possession developed and how various tactics unfolded. It’s then I can sense how close the outcome really was. A game of inches, millimeters in one case, when the post or crossbar can be your best friend, or dagger to the heart. ‘Unlucky’ we tend to say when the ball comes ricocheting back off these hard surfaces, thinking what could have been. Goalies too, circus performers with nerves of steel, standing alone in front of a 24’ x 8’ frame, the last hope of a nation praying for one last save to keep hopes alive. Sensational!
This weekend, first Saturday and again Sunday mornings, I will rise early to watch the four remaining teams compete for glory. At the beginning of the tournament, I found myself watching those five minute recaps of the games, which didn’t really deliver the magic I describe. Not until I finally tuned in to watch entire games, first when the US Women took on the Netherlands, Portugal, and finally Sweden did I relax into brilliant choreography of these games. Since then, I have watched England play Sweden, and Australia play both France and England. We can all now look forward to these last two tilts — Australia versus Sweden for bronze, and England versus Spain for gold.
With this post I encourage you to drop everything and watch at least one uninterrupted half of soccer. If you have to choose, choose a second half, which so far has proven to be a bit like an NBA fourth quarter, with lots of action happening towards the end. Yes, either watch live, or as a Spanish replay on Peacock. Like the vinyl bars of Japan, where one can sit for an hour of meditative music, tuning in to these will bring a kind of grounding you won’t find in other sports. Yes, I’m a soccer snob, have loved the sport since first introduced to me over fifty years ago (see enclosed embarrassing photo of me at soccer camp in 1974). And while I played all the way through college, it was never close to level we’re watching here. I played until I discovered ultimate, a wonderful sport with some of the same dynamics, especially the running and free flow of play, and one I owe so much too. Still, my first love soccer, that first cut deepest and lasting. See you on the pitch.
