Passion and a Decision
As a Latino male I feel that I have cheated you all by not talking about something which is near and dear to my heart. For this, I am sorry.
It is something that that has the ability to make all of life’s worries disappear from your mind if only for 90 minutos a day. But mis amigos, it is the greatest 90 minutes split into 45 minute halves that exist.
Quizá some of you are wondering what it is that I am rambling about, but I know that most of you know exactly what it is that makes me feel this way: The World Cup.
The World Cup is a soccer tournament that seems to forget about the country of Guatemala, but I forgive them for this. The Guatemalan people are perfect in many ways, but for some reason our ability to score on the field has yet to be perfected. I do predict that that mi country will one day make it to the world’s greatest stage. But, it may take some time. A long time… I wish to not discuss the topic of Guatemalan soccer. Please, do not bring it up because it brings tears to my eyes.
Watching soccer is something that is special to Latinos. We watch men whom we idolize run up and down the field while secretly wishing that we could be them if only for a second. This dream is a dream that is born the moment that a soccer ball touches our feet. A dream that begins while watching our fathers, uncles and brothers yell at the television and radio with passion and fury. The sport of soccer is something that flows through our veins sometimes so strong that it wouldn’t surprise me if our blood is black and white like the ball we dream to dominate.
There is a game this Friday, however, that makes me confused. It is the match of Germany against Argentina. Now, I usually cheer for Latin American teams. I find something in common with them and wish for them to win. But we’re talking about Argentina. Argentina. How can I cheer for Argentina? It would go against everything that I believe to cheer for a team that plays so dirty that I believe water cries when forced to bathe them (if they even do bathe).
But Germany? Germany? I have nothing in common with any of players on the German team. I am Guatemalan, beautiful, sensual, perfect. They are, well, they are German. Blonde and normal. German. Just German. How can I cheer for them?
I made it my duty as a Guatemalan to find reasons to cheer for Germany so that I didn’t, for one second, cheer for anything Argentinean.
What is it that the Germans do or did that should give me a reason to root for them?
Well, did you know that Levi Strauss, the inventor of blue jeans, was German? Si. Does this give me reason to cheer for Germany? No. While I appreciate the idea of Levi’s, I am Guatemalan and only wear Tommy Hilfiger jeans. Was he German? No. Next.
Karl Benz invented a car with an internal combustion engine. Does this make me want to cheer for Germany? Cheer for Germany because some hombre invented a coche that I can only dream of owning? No. Next.
Elevators. Yes. Invented by Werner von Siemens. I like elevators. They take me up and down when I don’t feel like taking the stairs. That’s good, right? No! I didn’t know it until moments ago, but it is because of a German that we are lazy. Bastardo Siemens made it easier for people to cheat the impulse to exercise. Mierda! Why is this so hard?
Flourescent Lights- German Inventor
Aspirin, Ave Maria encantada purrisima! A German invented Aspirin? I can’t cheer for them because of that. Frankly, I’m a little disappointed by the German people for failing to invent one thing, uno pedazo de mierda, that would make me want to cheer for them. Damn you Germany!
So, here I am, left in what the Caucasians call a “conundrum.” I’ll be damned if I ever cheer for Argentina, but I have no reason to cheer for Germany. Their food is too fattening, their wine is too sweet (I made it into a wine bar recently…) and their women wear too much eye makeup.
Whatever. I’ll wait for the Saturday matches. This is too hard. Maldito Germany…