You know what causes me to scratch my head?
World Cup soccer.
I just don’t get it.
Twenty-two grown men run nonstop for 90 minutes, kicking one ball back and forth, hoping somebody finally sneaks one past a goalie guarding a net that looks about as wide as my garage.
Then there’s the clock.
Every sport I know counts down until it’s over, but soccer counts up. Apparently everyone is expected to do math while watching.
And then, just when you think the game is finally about to end, the referee seems to smoke a joint, look at his watch, shrug his shoulders and proclaim, “Eh… let’s play another five minutes.”
They call that stoppage time, which makes no sense at all considering the game continues to play.
Yet, somehow the entire world is absolutely captivated by this sport.
The World Cup fills gigantic stadiums that could hold an NFL game, and billions of people stop whatever they’re doing to watch.
Now, I will admit one thing.
Soccer deserves to be called football a whole lot more than American football does because soccer players spend nearly the entire game kicking the ball with their feet.
In American football, they kick it at the beginning, after a touchdown and once in a while on fourth down. Most of the game is people throwing, carrying or piling on top of each other.
I’ll even admit soccer scoring makes more sense than American football.
In soccer, put the ball in the net and you get one point.
In American football, crossing the goal line gets you six points, kicking the ball through the uprights gets you three, unless it’s after a touchdown when it’s only one. And if something strange happens in the end zone, you might get two points. Clear as mud.
Soccer reminds me a little of hockey. Lots of running. Lots of strategy. Loooong stretches where nothing happens. The biggest difference is hockey occasionally rewards your patience with a fistfight.
But, here’s the part that surprised even Grandpa Grumpy.
For a few weeks every four years, people from every corner of the globe stop arguing about politics, stop yelling at each other online and cheer for their home country instead.
That’s actually kind of refreshing.
So I’ll tip my hat to the World Cup for bringing the world together, even if I still don’t understand half of what I’m watching.
I’m Grandpa Grumpy, and I’ll probably watch another World Cup match someday. But, I’ll make sure there’s a teenager sitting next to me to explain what in the world is going on.