Soccer: The Beautiful and Sexy Game

The Game.

"Something men were made to do, something that is intensely physical yet
profoundly imaginative, something made out of muscle, speed, grace and the soul
and finally something that possesses intensely sexual, intellectual allure."

~David Thomson

There are many beautiful things about being a fan of soccer—first and foremost among them is ignorance. The community in which you were raised did not gather around the television set for a good enough reason. The club you were supporting most probably did not represent the community you live in. There was an absence of a sense of die-hard belonging in the local grounds.

You can pick whatever team you like best and root for it without shame or fear of reprisal. You have not been indoctrinated into unwanted-yet-inescapable tribal allegiances by your soccer-crazed countrymen. You are an amateur, in the purest sense of the word.

That's what I do. The world of the soccer is the one I want to live in. I cannot resist its paranormal appeal - the revelation of deep human flaws and unexpected greatness, the fact that entire school cohorts neglect the impending horrors of examination and wake up at 3 a.m., just to watch 22 grown men kick a ball.

Soccer's worldwide popularity isn't surprising when you look at what has always motivated humanity: money and religion.

There's lots of money in soccer. Club soccer (like capitalism) is basically the childlike desire to make dreams come true, no matter what the cost, realized by men with enough money to combine such commodities as the best Brazilian attacker, Portugese midfielder (sometimes the South Korean ones), Italian defender, and German goalie and turn them loose on whatever the other billionaires can put together—an unfair situation that describes much of the world these days. And what makes such combination work, when communication may be a potential problem among the various nationalities? Fortunately, in soccer, there's only one language. "Gooooooooal!" And not surprisingly, it is the same language that also unites all fans here, aunties, uncles and some kids at the coffeeshop, the angmohs and asians at Hooters, gamblers and non-gamblers alike.

So what is soccer if not everything that religion should be? Universal yet particular, the source of an infinitely renewable supply of hope, occasionally miraculous, and governed by simple and straightforward rules that everyone can follow. Soccer's laws are laws of equality and nonviolence and restraint, and free to be reinterpreted at the discretion of a reasonable arbiter. Whatever the referee says goes, no matter how flagrantly in violation of dogma his decisions may be. Quoting from Soccer and its Ideology, after presenting a detailed enumeration of soccer's 17 laws, it concludes that the referee can throw out any of them in order to apply what it rather mystically calls "the spirit of fair play."

Of course, it's well-known that soccer, like religion, can provoke violence—hooliganism and trampling at overcrowded, rowdy and chanting stadiums. On a personal basis, we have already witnessed firsthand a couple of unprovoked attacks ourselves. But still, soccer has also proved unique in its ability to bridge differences and overturn national prejudices. World Cup 2002, was a one victory for tolerance and understanding, considering the fact that half a century ago South Korea did not even allow the Japanese national team to cross its borders for a World Cup qualifier, less said about co-hosting the tournament with its former occupier. Give the world 50 more years and we might see the Cup co-hosted by Israel and Palestine, or even possibly India and Pakistan after another century.

So why is that possible? Soccer's universality is its simplicity—the fact that the game can be played anywhere with anything and easily understood. Our predecessors used to kick the can on concrete and the talented South American kids still kick a rag wrapped around a rag wrapped around a rag, barefoot, or if they can find, a coconut, on dirt. Soccer is something to believe in now, perhaps empty at its core, but not a stand-in for anything else.

The beautiful game—let's call it business and religion combined—will be at its most unfair, frustrating (or exciting), and magnificent at our upcoming games. The odds will be crazy at the Singapore Pools. And what makes the going so beautiful is Team Mavericks, all of us together. Our erratic form (which made bookies and pundits lose money all the time), our splendid misses, our domineering presence, the dramatic saves, I say this moment is just like a roller coaster ride. Dangerous yets exciting, some highs and lows, spin-arounds, blurry after-feeling, but definitely a ride I want to go for again.

And like the allure of nicotine, you can't replace the experience of playing for the Outsiders with anything else. Playing with Team Mavericks is like an addiction a true-blue Outsider can't kick. The joy of being one of the many who will abide by the 17 rules fills me with the conviction, perhaps ignorant, but like many ignorant convictions, fiercely held, that soccer can unite us all, was the very reason for choosing in varietate concordia as our central belief.

And the belief was unshaken even until today. And I thank everyone for sharing this same belief as me. Happy 3rd birthday Team Mavericks!