Futbol

Being here during the World Cup has been a lot of fun. The entire continent seems enraptured with the hosting of South Africa. It is not only the passion for the sport - which an American simply cannot understand until diving into it elsewhere - but Africa's pride on the line. Africans embrace this tournament as a defining moment. The buzz is contagious. In every town, there are people walking in jerseys and flags (although most of the flags are for Barcelona, Chelsea, ect... not a participating country).

During the afternoons and evenings, many of the villagers or townspeople gather around the nearest television to watch, especially if an African nation plays. I pack in to look over shoulders or through arms to watch the matches. We lean forward to see on the small screen, biting nails and watching anxiously. During exciting plays or near-misses, they jump to yell and curse, and then settle back down to quiet anticipation. Goals are met with an eruption of unintelligible yells and dancing.

Yesterday I ran into the nearest town to try and see the U.S. play. I was walking around the market place, stopping people to say "football" and kick my foot in gesture, trying to find a place to watch as I was late for the match start. Finally, a man directed me down a long dim alleyway between buildings, barely wide enough to walk through. It turned a corner, and at the end of the corridor a man sat in a folding chair. I paid him about 35 cents, went through another alleyway to a curtained door, and went in. There were about 200 Africans sitting in a dark room, with two projector screens showing the ongoing U.S. and England matches at once. By some coincidence, there was another American seated in back, and I settled in next to him. For the next 90 minutes we jumped, cheered, screamed and agonized after each successive near-miss by the Americans (there were 8 or 10 of those during the match). Everyone in the room knew we only needed one goal at the end to clinch victory and move on. Over the course of the match, several of the Africans turned to cheer the Americans on with us. I think they empathized with us. Finally, in the 90th minute, Landon Donovan put our much needed goal on the board. The room erupted, both screens covered up by hands flying and dancing and high-fiving. In the back, I was hugging or shaking anyone within reach. Before long, I found myself at the bottom of a victory pile, swept up by a throng of Africans who were elated to share in the all-American moment. It was unlike any Alabama touchdown I've ever been a part of, and it was one of the most joyful moments of my life. Peace & Love.