Triangles, triangles! And other notes from watching the World Cup
Like hundreds of millions of others, we’ve been watching the men’s World Cup. Sometimes we’re at home, but we’ve been making a point of joining others for a communal watch at bars downtown.
This is the first World Cup round where I’ve been retired, making it easier to be comfortably seated for a match in the mid-afternoon.
On Monday, we took a bus downtown to the Duke of Duckworth to see Spain take on Portugal.
Martha has taken to wearing my Spain jersey this season; it looks much better on her than me. Jersey-wearing fans kind of find each other, and yesterday evening, the Spanish fans (Martha’s mom emigrated from there to here) nodded each other at first. Fist bumps followed.
There’s something about watching a game with strangers, and Monday was a hoot. We were near a boisterous Portugal fan whose cheers and jeers cracked me up. I wound up buying him a Corona as thanks for the entertainment. I chatted also with a couple visiting from Brazil, who were at the table nearby. I gave them condolences for the Thor 2, Brazil 1 result from Sunday, and asked the fellow if he had any vestigial support for Portugal. Not one bit, he told me with a laugh.
The game itself lacked zip, and I fear the Spanish men — who are as disciplined and well-trained a team as you’ll find — are tired.
When we stopped for an ice cream at the Parlour on Military Road on the way home, we ran into some more of the Spanish fans, and talked about a win that seemed to come with a warning about the road ahead.
Spain last won the men’s World Cup in 2010 (they’re the defending women’s World Cup champs), and I remember the game well.
Martha’s brother’s family came over, and our kids were all young and very enthusiastic at the time. They were so excited they went outdoors to scream after the win. Belated apologies to the neighbours for that.
We of course cheered heartily for Canada this year, which outperformed the odds and most people’s expectations.
One of their games has also given Martha and me a phrase we’ve been chuckling over at every match we see.
On June 18, after going for a walk around Kent’s Pond, we went downtown on a whim to see Canada take on Qatar. We sidled up to the bar at Jack Astor’s, getting prime views of the (very) big screen before the place filled up for the night.
Near me were a couple of dads who were there for the wings, beer and hoopla. It emerged that football was not their favourite sport, although one was determined to get across something he had learned — maybe from reading, or a chat, or a particular episode of Ted Lasso.
“Triangles! Triangles! Watch the triangles!” he called out, illustrating how three players could make a triangle of play. When the ball went where he did not expect, he had a reason. “See! Another triangle!” Confounded yet again, he muttered, “I don’t get this f–king game.”
Hardly an expert myself, I did enjoy their banter.
Overhearing conversations, joining in a chat, clinking glasses: it’s all part of watching a game together.
FIFA is not an organization that inspires confidence, but the World Cup still stirs us. Watching tiny Cabo Verde hold Argentina’s feet to the fire on Friday night was one of the most thrilling games I think I’ve seen. We saw that from home; I bet it was amazing in a crowd.
Soon we’ll know if Spain can go all the way again. And next year, we’ll have the women’s World Cup … and the excitement will brew all over again.