Ding Dong Special: The World Cup

We hardly knew ye tight buns, Glen.


Hey Sports Fans! It's the most wonderful time of year. Or, I should say, it is the most wonderful time of every four years. It's the World Cup, yallz!

I love sports (as long as they're not terribly American or boring like football or basketball). As the daughter of a hockey coach and the sister of a brother who once asked about a boy, "Does he even play sports?", playing sports was just expected of me. I'll be the first to admit I haven't played soccer since the Clinton Administration (full disclosure: when my family moved from Long Island to Pennsylvania when I was 11, I quit soccer. In PA, the tween teams were coed and I really hated playing with aggressive wanking-off tween boys. I also wanted to play tennis so I could wear a skirt, which is really beside the point). But the World Cup is all sorts of international fun. It's like the Olympics but without the bullshit sports like archery. It's thrilling and kinda cool that the whole world is caught up in well-thighed men kicking around a ball.

Here's the problem: I have no idea who to blow my vuvuzela at in the World Cup. I usually like to pick a side and get my jollies off arguing in their defense. This is not a problem with other sports:
Tennis: Serena Williams, badass & a babe. Rafael Nadal, badass & a babe.
Hockey: Detroit Red Wings, for my pops.
Skiing (yeah): Bode Miller, badass babe from New Hampshire.
Baseball: Kinda too boring to care but I guess the Mets or the Phillies.

I guess it should be obvious that as an American, I should root for the U.S. of A. Before they were knocked out by Ghana on Saturday, I still could not root, root, root for the home team. Before I'm called a turncoat (or whatever the post-18th Century equivalent for that term is), lemme explain: like Kayne said George Bush doesn't care about black people, the U.S. doesn't care about soccer. First, we call it soccer when the rest of the world calls it football. We think the games are too long. We think the men aren't manly enough. We'd rather watch American football or So You Think You Can Dance? The rest of the world is wacky about soccer and they play it from Slovakia to the Ivory Coast to South Korea. It's pretty neat.

Instead of rooting for these purple mountain majesties, I've found arbitrary reasons to root for other countries. First, it was England. I love all things English (Harry Potter. Nigella Lawson. Tea. Wellies, houndstooth, & cable-knit. Fog & rain. Colour, not color.) and, I fell madly in lust with jolly good sexy English defender, Glen Johnson (see above). England lost to the cold machinery of the Germans and now I'm lost without a team. Do I root for Spain because I experienced my first (and only) discothèque in Madrid? Or Ghana because Africa could use some happy news? Or Slovekia because who the hell knew they played soccer? Or Brazil cos they'll prollz win?

Here's the solution: I'll do what everyone assumes the ladies do anyway - ogled the players buns and pick a favorite that way. Thus, making this the World Cup Ding Dong Special.

We'll start with Spain first. The Spaniards just kicked Portugal and Ronaldo's well-coiffed ass with the help of this sexy hombre, Sergio Ramos. The locks, the abs, the name, Sergio. You're welcome. This international celebration of sport and the illin' hotties that play it goes on well into July, so it's going to be a hot month.