As I write this, I’m watching Colombia play Greece on TV, winning 2-0 in the second half. For those who don’t know, this is a World Cup game. The tournament started on Thursday (Friday morning in China) which meant I came home from work, stayed up till the opening ceremony, then watched the opening game and went to bed at 6am. Then Saturday morning, I came out to watch the Netherlands-Spain game with some good colleagues. It was the biggest game of the first weekend, pitting the defending champions against the runners-up, in other words this was a rematch of the final of the last World Cup. Well, it was an incredible match that ended 5-1, with Spain being dealt a humiliating defeat. It was especially crushing given Spain had scored the first goal and had looked to be in control for a while. That is until minutes before the end of the first half when Robin van Persie scored a crazy leaping header which saw him arch forward in the air like a seal to meet a long cross from his teammate and head it over the Spanish keeper. Then the Dutch scored four more goals in the second half, while Spain seemed to disintegrate, not helped by some terrible goalkeeping mistakes. Already, the media is awash with proclamations of the end of an era for Spain’s domination and “tike-taka” style of short, continuous passing.
By the time it was over, it was bright outside even though it was just a little after 5am (and yes, I’m a bit too old to be walking back home at 5 in the morning but this was for a legit reason). It was pleasant walking back home, passing Sanlitun which was busy with people leaving the bars and clubs in the area, while taxis clogged the roads. This pleasantness was in contrast to my walk to the place, when I encountered the usual shady touts along the bar street, with one persistent older guy following me for almost 10 minutes, even entering the compound where the place I was going to was in. As I neared my destination, which was at the far end and dimly lit part of the compound, he finally stopped following, but uttered a soft but audible “shabi.” So yes, the guy followed me continuously, trying to get me to go to some club and get a girl despite my lukewarm responses saying I was going somewhere, and I’m the stupid c*nt. The sheer audacity and hypocritical outrage of some folks here is something I need to get used to, but can’t for now.
Another decent football article, this one looks at the Ivory Coast, one of Africa’s best teams in the past decade, and also one of the most underachieving. However, the big deal with them goes beyond sports and that’s what the article examines. The football team is credited with helping end a brutal civil war in the country that went on for over 6 years during the early 2000s. Didier Drogba, the team’s longtime talisman, star striker and captain, has been given a lot of credit for this, speaking out to his countrymen to stop fighting and advocating for a game to be played in rebel-held territory at one point. The writer visits the country, talks to people, watches football at roadside bars, and finds out the truth is complex, that divisions in the country are serious but not based on so much on tribal or ethnic identity, though this does not mean the divisions have diminished over time. My Africa team is Ghana, which I respect both as a country and a football team, but I hope Ivory Coast can have some success this time and not crash out in the first round as in the last two World Cups, having been in Groups of Death then but not this time.