I looked out my window and into the dreary, overcast day. A school bus passed carrying middle school kids. Other than the lone bus, my outside surroundings were quiet -- not another person or car to be found. I suppose everyone was at work. If I remember correctly, that's what most people are doing at 3:20 on a Wednesday.
That's when it hit me. No one within a 30-mile radius is even aware of this game, let alone concerned about its outcome. I'm new to this international soccer thing, but I assume that sums up the ridiculousness of being a soccer fan in America. Imagine your hometown NFL team tied up with two minutes left in their first round playoff game -- and absolutely no interest around you. No flags, hats, or sweatshirts bearing the team logo. No signs, news highlights, or talk radio. Nothing. Just nothing.
In a strange way, I'm attracted to the exclusivity. Spurs are my little secret in this neck of the woods, kind of like the people who claimed to love R.E.M in the early 80s. If rooting for them means I have to occasionally wake up at 6 in the morning, listen to games in Spanish, and yell at my computer as if it were a cashier that didn't give me correct change, then I'm all for it.
Perhaps a visual representation of what I looked like during Wednesday's game would be more helpful.
Here's me at the 25-minute mark. AC Milan was inches away from scoring. Three of the computers in this shot don't work. I keep them around to feel important.
I regained a little bit of composure in the 60th minute, as Spurs began to settle in. I even took off my tie to demonstrate how loose I was, and replaced my sweat-drenched shirt.
This is me in the 93rd minute, after Spurs came away with a 0-0 draw. I was so excited that I put a different tie on and raised the roof with clenched fists.
Besides being certifiably nuts, this match, and I think all 0-0 matches can help American fans towards a greater appreciation of sports. I think it's hard for some people to wrap their brain around 0-0. Why play the game at all, nothing happened, right? Wrong. The beauty of the game is found in its intricacies that don't always show up in the box score.
In America, we're conditioned to think the result is everything, and the result has to firmly place one team above the other. In other words: NO TIES! Good and bad games are often forgotten or excused because the desired result was achieved. Too often, we get caught up in the result, and forget about the process which got us to that point.
Take the 25th minute to illustrate my point. Spurs defender William Gallas (seen here beginning at the 3:44 mark) made a game-saving play that was just as spectacular and valuable as a sensational goal. Spurs goalkeeper Heurelho Gomes made a terrible challenge and ended up getting caught out of position. Milan's Pato slipped a pass to his streaking teammate Robinho, who promptly rifled a shot that deflected off Tottenham's Assou-Ekotto. Not anticipating the deflection, Gallas was trending left. He noticed the ball popped in the air, recovered, firmly planted his left leg on the goal line and cleared the ball mid-air with his right foot, about an inch in front of the goal line. It was an incredible defensive play from Gallas that took just as much skill and precision as a well-timed goal. I'll always remember that save.
Tottenham had won the previous match 1-0, so a 0-0 draw was basically a win. But what if they had lost 2-0 and Gallas made the same save? Many American-conditioned sports fans, myself included, probably would have looked at the game as a bad loss and left it at that.
I've noticed soccer fans seem to appreciate particular moments of a match, even if their team didn't come out victorious. I'm not suggesting they don't care who wins, but the end result isn't the only measure of success. At least that's what I've observed. Maybe I've been reading and interacting with fans and writers more concerned with the stylistics of soccer, which is entirely possible.
Either way, a bunch of wise thinkers have said that life is a journey, and the scenery we encounter along the way is more important than the destination. We can certainly apply this viewpoint to sports, and would be wise to.
