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Rik Watches The World Cup, part 1

19/6/2018

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It has been a while since I wrote my last gardening and nature appreciation blog (read) but I have a good reason for that. Apart from another few hours of digging, there was simply nothing more to do. A new blog will come soon but in the meantime I have found something else to ramble about. In Russia, a bunch of millionaires are kicking a bunch of balls into a bunch of nets, and that's exciting.
When I was a young boy, I used to watch football matches on television with my father. My mother didn't like the game so she did some crossword puzzles or play Tetris on an LCD gaming device. Later, since my father worked in an electronics factory, we bought another television so my mother could watch her soap series while my father and I cheered on the Red Devils. I think those were the few moments when I felt truly at ease, at home. 

In a tiny room in a tiny house in Brazil, a seven year old boy is watching his heroes play against Switzerland. He watches it on an old television, probably a model from the early eighties. In those days things were made to last. The television is standing on a plastic picnic table. There is nothing else in the room, just the boy, the table and his ancient television. He is happy because Brazil has scored. He won't be this happy until they score again.
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In Belgium, a man is sitting behind his computer. He has just updated his facebook status, saying extremely nasty things about people who enjoy the match. He is drinking wine, an expensive bottle too. He still has to choose between cheese cubes or chicken wings for his late night snack.
The man writes that those footballers are overpaid morons who run after a ball, only to kick it away again. He presses "publish" and takes on more sip from his wine. Then he decides to go to the movies, to watch overpaid morons pretending to be somebody else. Later that year, that same man will appear in a wooden cubicle to vote for overpaid morons who will only attempt to divide and enslave their subjects even more. 

I can't help but think about that little boy in Brazil. That boy has one goal in life, become an athlete and be rich. It reminds me of another story (read) of a boy that wanted to become an athlete, coincidentally a football player. He was born in absolute poverty. His lunch was bread and milk, every single day. One day he came home from school and saw his mother dilute the milk with tap water. They no longer could afford the milk. That day, the boy made a promise to his mother. He promised that everything was going to be fine. He started training. Later, his grandfather begged him to take care of his daughter, the boy's mother. Once again, the boy promised to fight. Only a few days later his grandfather passed away.
That boy scored two goals against Panama. Romelu Lukaku grew up in a prosperous country, lived in Antwerp, Liege, Brussels. He battled opponents, critics and keyboard warriors everywhere. After one of his goals, he shoved his face into a camera and said "pour toi, maman". After the match, he fell down on his knees and prayed, I like to think he simply talked to his grandfather.
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I'll tell you a little secret, I really enjoyed Robbie Williams' performance at the opening ceremony, especially the 'Angel' duet with Aida Garifullina. What a perfect name for a soprano by the way and what a beautiful and talented lady that Aida is.  Williams is an excellent entertainer and with that done-before middle finger he tried to prove to the world that he is still some kind of enfant terrible. Was it against the Russian's treatment of gay people? Was it against the billion dollar industry that football has become? Was it against his fans who are mostly a bunch of overpaid morons? I don't know. I think it was just Robbie being Robbie. And as far as the enfant terrible thing is concerned, we Belgians have Nainggolan, a guy I like more and more each day. Here in Belgium, the non-selection of Radja was a huge thing but Radja, although clearly "bitten in his ass", takes it with a neat dose of humor. 
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Then, shortly after the opening ceremony, which for me was a bit too bombastic, weird and unnecessary, it was time for the first match of this world cup. Russia took on Saudi Arabia. The match became a humiliation for the Saudis with a 5-0 loss. Most people will probably remember Putin's reactions to the goals, a light version of Robbie's middle finger.
The Saudis weren't good, but neither were the Germans, the Brazilians or the Argentinians. Although, we have to give Argentina the benefit of the doubt because they were battling the Icelandic vikings, the only nation that as one man stands behind their team. More than 95 percent of the Icelandic population watched the match. That must be an absolute record and a baffling number, considering the fact that Iceland is not a football nation, yet. Given time Iceland will undoubtedly dominate. Do you know why? I'll tell you why. The Icelanders don't care about anything but Iceland. They support their own. They know what the word "United" means. For Icelandic people, uniting is not a vague concept like "Metalheads Unite" or "Fortnite Fans Unite". On this side of the world, the word "unite" is only used to divide people into little groups of people who hate everything about all the other little groups. In Iceland, being united means being one, fighting for each other and turning all faces into the same direction, which I assure you is not Donald Trump's stupid antics. 
A nation that does care about Trump's shenanigans is Mexico. America, lead by a diseased orange, is being an absolute cunt as far as immigration is concerned. But Mexico itself isn't a perfect living area either. People there can choose between a life in absolute poverty or a life of being hated, simply depending on which side of the border they happen to be.
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So is it such a bad thing that for once these people can cheer a little after their team beat Germany? That should not be surprise, that should be heartwarming. According to some sources, the many happily jumping people caused a little earthquake in the area around Mexico City but that is not true. It was possibly just a real earthquake somewhere in the neighbourhood, caused by tectonic activity. But for once, let's just believe the happy story that people can actually cause earthquakes. I mean, we love that kind of stories. We tell them to our kids and then tell them that lying is bad. When those kids finally discover that the Easter Bunny isn't real, we make up another story to regress their anger and when they see through that lie we tell them to shut up and find a job. And you wonder why your adolescent doesn't really like you.
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You know who Robbie's middle finger is for? It's for you, the so-called "haters". I used to hate Robbie. I used to think he was a prick the size of Ibrahimovic's ego. But now I like Robbie. Robbie says "I chased my dream and I made it, fuck you if you dislike me for that." And Robbie is right, don't take your failures out on someone who succeeds in life. Instead, have a wank and try something else.
I found it increasingly difficult to understand people's hate, fear and anger towards either talented or hard working people. True, some people have it easier than others but is that a reason to empty your gallbladder all over your facebook page? I don't like Justin Bieber either but there must be a reason why she is so immensely popular. Eighty percent of the world population being absolute nitwits can be such a reason but so is being picked up by pedophile artist agents and having massive wallets shoved in your face.

Anyway, back to football. I really wonder why I have not seen a meme about steroids and performance enhancing drugs after Russia beat Saudi Arabia. Why is that? Has everyone forgotten the gargantuan Russian doping scandal in the Olympics? Am I now under electronic surveillance because I mention this? Is Putin now spying on me for being the only journalist who dares mention this stuff? I guess nobody thought of this because of the cringeworthy appearance by the Saudis. Is the Saudi team still alive or am I stirring in another dangerous pot here? 
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I also really dig the drama around the whole World Cup. The Mexican team hanging out with prostitutes for example. Athletes and hookers have always been an entertaining match, just like athletes and cocaine, right Maradona? See, the world of football is just like the real world: whores, drugs, parties, the more the merrier and the richer the better.

I just don't understand the group sex thing. I already puke when I think about showering with other men, something footballers do seem to enjoy, but having sex with somebody in a pool while your teammates are in the same pool, having sex with the same women? That feels very Skull & Bones to me. Those weren't orgies, those were secret society initiation rites. Whenever a guy debuts with the Belgian Red Devils, he has to sing a song in front of the group. I think in some countries, I'm not going to mention which ones because I don't want to die, teammates have to jerk off together as some sort of sick teambuilding thing. Groupwanking can turn people into presidents so I'm sure it can also cause a big win against another football team but still, yuck.

I'll move to saver havens with Spain - Portugal. That was by far the most entertaining match so far. Ronaldo might be an absolute ass but he scored a hattrick and thus saved one important point for his nation. I, as a Belgian, still hope Lukaku will outdo Ronaldo. Actually, I would like to see a UFC match between Lukaku and Ronaldo. That would probably be even more entertaining that this World Cup, a cage fight between two successful strikers. I don't like mixed martial arts. I'm one of those sissies who prefer professional wrestling but that is one match I would definitely watch, or even better, Lukaku versus Neymar. 
Since we are on the subject of sissies who like professional wrestling: Neymar would be the ultimate jobber. He knows how to sell a punch or a kick like no other WWE superstar can. He is more annoying than Enzo Amore, more laughable than Santino Marella and more injury prone than Rey Mysterio. Neymar would be a perfect addition to the WWE roster. Hell, even James Ellsworth could convincingly defeat Neymar in a WWE ring.
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I found the World Cup so far extremely entertaining. There have been a few good matches, some surprising results, a bit of laughter with people's last names and a dash of hilarity when the mosquitos attacked the English team. There were facepalms too, like when Roberto Martinez complained about the length of the grass and the ninety minutes Neymar spent inspecting that length. I also enjoyed the Swiss players' grin whenever they looked at the little troll rolling and crying and whining and complaining. I think my advice in this article is clear. Don't roll and cry and whine and complain. 

Don't be a Neymar.


Rik
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