Three Point Six Miles to Another World
Last Wednesday, we traveled just a few miles up the street to par-tay with 70,000 of our happiest friends. I say happy, because each and everyone in the sold-out gig was so freaking ecstatic to be there that he or she didn’t care one ounce that the event: went well past midnight, required standing (not only on your feet, but also on the seats), and charged $8 for a beer.
I honestly have never seen anything like it.
It was lunacy.
Lunacy.
Tens of thousands of people gathered to chant, scream, stomp, sing, explode, etc. in unison. Not for The Rolling Stones, but for Ronaldihno.
Never heard of him? Well, don’t feel too bad, because neither had I. But feel kind-of bad, because 69,999 others in the room most definitely had. Heard of him. Showed up for him. Screamed like certifiable maniacs for him.
Because he’s huge. Huger than huge. All these guys are.
Ronaldihno, Deco, Eto’o, Messi, Puyol, Sylvinho.
Obviously, when you go by one name, you’re big. But when you peek your headband out of a lineup, and tens of thousands of people body-slam themselves to take your picture with their camera phones, you’re pretty much enormous. Gigantic. Colossal. Epic. Paris Hilton and Kelly Ripa would literally eat lard for this kind of fame.
And I’d never heard of any of them.
But Mr. con Queso had. In fact, he’d traveled to England only a few weeks ago just to watch eleven of the amazing on TV with other world cup nuts. Of course, the famous were also available in our living room 24/7. In high-def. Although with less craze and crazy.
But it seems the crazy is getting closer. And for the record, I’m completely cool with it.
Because, for one, there are worse sports. Two, the players are beyond aesthetically pleasing. And tres, we have fab season tickets to our local MLS team; so now we can see the cute in person, I mean, see the incredible footwork in action. Plus, if it’s good for Posh, it’s good for me.
I will never have an issue with that brand of crazy moving to town.
I honestly have never seen anything like it.
It was lunacy.
Lunacy.
Tens of thousands of people gathered to chant, scream, stomp, sing, explode, etc. in unison. Not for The Rolling Stones, but for Ronaldihno.
Never heard of him? Well, don’t feel too bad, because neither had I. But feel kind-of bad, because 69,999 others in the room most definitely had. Heard of him. Showed up for him. Screamed like certifiable maniacs for him.
Because he’s huge. Huger than huge. All these guys are.
Ronaldihno, Deco, Eto’o, Messi, Puyol, Sylvinho.
Obviously, when you go by one name, you’re big. But when you peek your headband out of a lineup, and tens of thousands of people body-slam themselves to take your picture with their camera phones, you’re pretty much enormous. Gigantic. Colossal. Epic. Paris Hilton and Kelly Ripa would literally eat lard for this kind of fame.
And I’d never heard of any of them.
But Mr. con Queso had. In fact, he’d traveled to England only a few weeks ago just to watch eleven of the amazing on TV with other world cup nuts. Of course, the famous were also available in our living room 24/7. In high-def. Although with less craze and crazy.
But it seems the crazy is getting closer. And for the record, I’m completely cool with it.
Because, for one, there are worse sports. Two, the players are beyond aesthetically pleasing. And tres, we have fab season tickets to our local MLS team; so now we can see the cute in person, I mean, see the incredible footwork in action. Plus, if it’s good for Posh, it’s good for me.
I will never have an issue with that brand of crazy moving to town.
posted by Girl con Queso at 7:56 AM
6 Comments:
Hooray! Another Football (the real football, I've been told) fan. Our house is an Arsenal house. Have James give Charles a call if he needs a buddy to go to a game or many with. Em
OK, there is definitely some kind of soccer gestault out there for me today. First I check up on Salt Lake City's Herrin twins and read that their dad went to an exhibition soccer game with the Madrid team. Then I check out celebrity gossip and read that TomKat went to the same game. Now I come here and once again. . . soccer! Maybe it's time to embrace my inner European.
mmmm. soccer. *drools*
Real football is the greatest. The other football is asinine and cro-magnon. I love that I have a forum to say how much I hate it, its culture, and the fact that it glorifies women scantily clad...on the sidelines! I like sports where women can be the stars! Thank you for this forum, Kufu con Queso!
I love Newcastle...the team and the beverage. My grandfather is from there, so I feel privileged to have such illustrious (if sodden) roots!
Super Zoe - now you're just frightening me. No one (except for boys) that I know speaks British socca. You go girl!
PS: I enjoy American COLLEGE football. Is it the game or perhaps the fall air, snuggling with your sweetie on Saturday afternoons to watch it on television, something to talk about with your male boss on Monday? Hmmm...can't decide. - E
I probably lost all street cred talking about college football with my boss when I made out with him...on a business trip.
I always went to soccer camps run by Brits...in the post-Pele era, those were the only options. Had I only appreciated being the only girl in a group of 20 boys...sigh.
Post a Comment
<< Home