The world's language

As you may or may not have noticed, soccer was my first love. My mother actually forced me to play when I was nine years old in September 1994, coincidentally just after the World Cup was held in the US. Since that summer, I reconciled myself to playing with boys and fell in love with the game. Of course, now that I've experienced all aspects of the game on multiple levels (and by "all" I mean playing, coaching, reffing, and watching it) I can be snobby and call it "football." I have stories about all the places I've experienced because of it, why I have so much passion for it, and how much the people I've met through it has changed my life. My sisters and I have even been on Brazilian television. No doubt eventually some of these stories will trickle out of me, but for one second I just have to be Super Excited.

Clint Dempsey is my favorite American player. I met him twice a couple of years ago; he's a really fantastic guy. He currently plays for Fulham FC in London as well as the US national team. Today, he scored the two goals that held Chelsea to a draw. Now, I'm not strictly a Fulham supporter--I follow the club for Dempsey--but I do love watching pretty football from any country. Anyway. Tying Chelsea is kind of a big deal. :) Up Fulham! Come on you Whites!

I can't think of any one thing more cosmopolitan and global than soccer. Therefore, sometimes I must natter on about it because it's one of those hard-to-explain passions that fills up my heart and it just spills over. It has something to do with the taste of sweat and grass, the intensity of living in the moment, and the way I made instant friends with a boy in a Dutch pub because I could name a few Nederlands footy stars. It has to do with my brother playing street soccer with urchins in Mexico, and with the drums in the stadium that never stop during a match. The whole world speaks this language. All you need is a ball.