This year’s World Cup is drawing to a close. It has been a thoroughly enjoyable experience watching the matches. There is a lot to like about soccer, a lot of things peculiar only to soccer, aspects of the game that would not quite translate well into our everyday lives. Although, come to think of it, incorporating some soccer culture into our daily monotony might be a good idea.
Have you noticed that the really good players go by one name, names like Messi, Ronaldo, and Neymar? It would be super cool if this happened at the office. "I’d like to introduce you to our national accounts manager. He goes by the name Jeff. Just Jeff." Account managers at other firms could quote Jeff stats by memory. "Jeff closed the Sampson account in three weeks, that’s his sixth close this year, he’s on pace to set a franchise record." Up and coming little account managers would all clamor to by official Jeff gear, and have Jeff sign their brief cases at conferences.
At the end of the match, it’s not uncommon to see soccer players trade jerseys. Imagine, after your next staff meeting, if everyone popped off their shirts and handed it to the person they think really performed well. Jane from accounting rips off her shirt and hands it to Tom, “Here you go, man. Outstanding job on those third quarter revenue projections, bro!” OK, it might be a bit of an H.R. nightmare, but highly entertaining nonetheless.
One of the more adorable aspects of soccer is the parade of players before a match, each one holding the hand of a giddy child, wearing a super cute jersey, all doe-eyed and excited to be so close to the legends of the game. This could translate over to the Supreme Court. Clearly, there are two teams on the court: liberal and conservative. Before each case is heard, the justices, broken into their respective teams, could parade out. Instead of kids, though, each justice could be holding the hand of a third year law student, all doe-eyed and excited, wearing a tiny black robe with names like Sotomayor or Scalia emblazoned on the back.
Of course, the biggest peculiarity, the one soccer fans, and soccer detractors, could all live without, is the flop. An otherwise innocent, innocuous little bump sends a player to the grass in agony. So much agony that you would swear it wasn’t just the player that was hurt, but his ancestors that came before him suddenly all broke their femurs simultaneously and cried out in unison from the great beyond. As ridiculous as the flop is, I suppose it could have real life applications when dealing with an angry spouse.
Fellas, the next time you and your wife are in a heated argument, when you’re all out of excuses and alibis, in the middle of a sentence, just lean in and brush her shoulder with yours. At that exact moment, crash to the kitchen floor like you were shot, stabbed, drawn, and quartered. As you lay there writhing and screaming, and your wife stands over you confused, maybe an official will come sprinting in a give her a yellow card. See, she will have to settle down or risk getting another card. She gets another yellow, the official gives her a red card, and she’s out of the game. Either way, you live to be a jerk another day. Until she checks the replay, that is.
Maybe these things will integrate slowly. I’m ready to go by one name. The shirt thing, better do some sit-ups, I guess.