I'm in the unenviable position of being an American who likes soccer a lot, but who has no way to watch the World Cup. We live in a TV sinkhole where broadcast stations are blocked (except for the CBS affiliate in Richmond, whose signal reaches us reasonably well if the weather's clear) and cable can't reach us. We could pony up the bucks for a dish, but given how few programs we're actually interested in watching, it's not an expense we can really justify.

So here I am, eager to watch the biggest sporting spectacle on the planet, and I'm reduced to following it on the Web and in the Washington Post. Luckily, this morning I had an invitation to watch the USA-Poland match at a friend's place, and he's got not only a satellite hookup but a big-screen TV.

I'm not sure why I find soccer appealing. Part of it is the struggle. As Adam Gopnick pointed out in The New Yorker back in 1998, soccer is a game where a point really means something. In basketball, just about every other trip down the court results in a score, making each individual basket insignificant unless it comes at the last second. In soccer, however, most scoring chances result in nothing but tension and frustrated anticipation. This makes soccer a lot more like real life; it's not Hollywood.

Another part of the appeal, I'm sure, is my own experience with the game. Back in ninth grade, I was actually good at it, winning the Best Defensive Player award for the Grey Culbreth Junior High School Cougars. I played fullback, the so-called "sweeper" position, and my job was to be the last line of defense before an opponent got a shot off. I was tall enough, fast enough, and able to kick the ball far enough to handle this assignment fairly well. I was also motivated by the fact that our goalkeeper was a small and inexperienced seventh-grader. I reasoned that the best way to keep his inexperience from causing problems was to give him as few chances to make plays as possible.

Soccer is also the only sport I've coached. I did one season as co-coach of a Rainbow Soccer team in Chapel Hill. Rainbow is a wonderful rec league, where scores and rankings aren't kept, and where the only rule is that everybody gets to play. You and your teammates can be as competitive as you want, of course, but the league itself doesn't demand it of you. I played Rainbow for years, but I must say it didn't really help me prepare for the job of coaching at the high school level, which is of course the next level at which I coached.

I did three years as head (read: only) coach of the varsity (read: only) team at Pine Forest Senior High in Fayetteville. I can't claim that my team's success was due to good coaching; I was lucky enough to have good players, particularly at the goalkeeper spot; we finished 4th in the eight-team conference twice, earning the 3rd-place spot in my last year and advancing to the state playoffs, where we got beaten by Wilmington Laney in the first round. That year PFS started a girls' team, and several things became clear: one, the girls' coach was much better than I was; two, he was teaching part-time and wanted a full-time gig; three, our second child had just arrived, and Kelly was swamped in the fall trying to chase after two boys. I told the athletic director that I'd be happy to remain assistant coach for the debate team, but that he'd need to find a new soccer coach--and that the girls' coach might be a good candidate for the boys' team, too. I'm happy to report that the AD agreed and hired the girls' coach--karma points for me.

Anyway, today I got up early and yelled at the greatest players in the country as though I know more about the sport than they do. I love this game.
6:58 AM

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