So you can laugh all you want, but I love football.
I yell at the TV, pretend like I know what I am talking about when a ref makes a ridiculous decision, and of course, choose my favourite team in the most sensible fashion: who has the most attractive players (okay, not entirely true of the Italians… we can’t cheer for the Italians no matter how hot they might appear, apparently).
I went with Levi to get airtime from his favourite tuck shop attendee. And the first words out of their months was how sad the match was last night (poor Bafana Bafana). Naturally, they proceeded to talk about every game – how each team could fix the problems, who should have won (that the Swiss beat the Spaniards is shocking), and then I realise how ignorant I really am. But regardless football brings people together. Case in point:
When I greeted this Monna, I let him know where I was from. And his reply? “that is in South America, yes?”.
No matter if your job is to sell sweeties, cigarettes and airtime, while sitting on half a plastic chair propped on a rubbish bin, or a general volunteer with a Christian mission – you have an opinion on the game, that is worthy to be discussed shivering in the cold wind in the parking lot as the sun goes down.