The Joy of Soccer

The World Cup is over and the worldwide hangover has begun. My withdrawal symptoms will be nothing compared to what South Africa must be going through. I hope the positive energy they harnessed and amplified during the last month stays with them as they tackle more meaningful challenges. As both Spain and the Netherlands return home, there is worldwide commentary on the match. I've been harsh about the Dutch tactics, but my comments are nothing compared to the statements from Dutch legend Johan Cruyff. Some of his comments are as hard hitting as the Dutch tackling during the Finals.

I had the fortune of playing soccer as a kid but only for a couple of years. I spent my formative years of 4 to 7 living in London during which time I developed a love for soccer and chocolate. I only played two years at my school and even those years were on our "B" team. But even with my limited experience -- augmented by a return onto the pitch during grad school for pickup matches -- I can recall the feeling of running on that wide open pitch, trying to account for all the movement and trying to get that circular object to behave properly.

There were a few moments of inspiration.

Dribbling through two midfielders, hearing the crowd cheer and passing it through to one of our strikers. During the grad school days, scoring off a corner kick by striking the ball one time while it was still in midair. And running around the track in high school (I became a runner after my soccer ambitions ended), hearing the call of "help", turning without hesitation and making a perfect pass back to the coach of the girls team. He would speak with me the next day asking why I didn't play soccer. Surprised, shocked (and more than a little flattered), I asked him why he would ask. His response that my pass at full speed was perfect caught me by surprise. I told him that was the exception. He said something that I have never forgotten: "Sayeed, practice is what makes the exceptional the norm. If you don't have talent, no amount of practice will create it. But even with talent, you need to practice to perfect it."

I was crushed when I did not make my high school soccer team. In many ways, I am only now feeling the loss and realize that watching soccer is one of the ways I cope. But I do remember the joyous feeling of those fleeting moments of excellence. And I wish I had continued to practice instead of giving up. One of the most bonding aspects of soccer, football, futbol is that anyone at anytime can experience this joy. All it takes is a round object and an open space. If you want to add some intensity, invite a few friends and make up some goalposts. Pele and Maradona both grew up in poverty and learned to play soccer in the most modest surroundings. There is a wonderful article about Jessica Hilltout, a Belgian born photographer who made a journey across Africa capturing special moments or scenes. The photographs are poignant. Yet even amidst the apparent sadness, there are powerful images of poetic motion, camaraderie, ingenuity, hope, even joy. For a moment, anyone can be Andres Iniesta scoring the World Cup winning goal.

Soccer is called the beautiful game. I believe that soccer is a beautiful game only when it is played with joy. By teams that genuinely enjoy making great passes, that appreciate when their teammates make incisive runs to create space, that move the ball in flowing patterns. They dance. Sara Crompton, the arts editor and a dance writer for The Daily Telegraph, described Maradona's Argentina team in terms of the tango. Argentina played with joy. As did Spain. Brazil diminished its joy for efficiency and the Germans seemed to do the opposite. There was so much made of poor management when Argentina lost. It's probably true that Maradona made mistakes. But does anyone think Fabio Capello is a poor manager? Germany beat England as badly as they beat Argentina. And when people question why Argentina would want Maradona to return as a manager, they underestimate his standing within his homeland but they also don't recognize that many fans appreciated his joyful approach to the game. And maybe, just maybe, they don't value winning above all else.

There are teams without enough talent to compete against the world's best. And as that coach said to me years ago, no amount of practice will create talent. I understand why Greece and Switzerland adopt such defensive postures in their matches. But it's disappointing to watch a team like Brazil or Portugal or the Netherlands not play freely. They suppress their joy in the relentless pursuit of victory.

For me, the final match asked the fundamental question of soccer: Do you win by expression or do you win by suppression?

And even by the standards of teams who suppress, the Dutch violence on the pitch was reprehensible. Blaming the Spaniards for retaliation and blaming the referee only makes matters worse. The Dutch criticized the Germans for not challenging the Spaniards during their semi-final encounter. It's interesting to note that Spain defeated both the Netherlands and Germany by the same result. Anyone who wants to see the difference between expression and suppression need look no further than the juxtaposition of Spain's matches against these teutonic neighbors. There were *NO* fouls for the first 25 minutes of and few fouls throughout the Spain v. Germany match. If you want to make sure the referee doesn't dominate the proceedings, try not fouling each other. For another point of comparison between the Netherlands and Germany, consider the comments of another soccer legend from the 1970s. Franz Beckenbauer may have been wrong about Germany winning the finals, but he certainly appreciated the joyful approach of the Germans.

I'll keep reflecting on the loss of joy with my own soccer journey. Some day I'll embrace that joy I might experience now is fundamentally no different than the joy I experienced on the pitch or maybe even the joy that Iniesta felt when he scored the winning goal. I'm not there yet. Until I get there, I'll keep experiencing vicariously through Spain's victory.