Which team would you want to win?
Thursday’s match was a snoozefest. Nothing was happening. Both England and Belgium were trying to lose, so they could play (I think) Japan at a later stage, and so both teams were playing charades. Staying awake was a problem that evening. I wasn’t rooting for either of them.
On Saturday evening, around dinner time, I felt I ought to decide whether to root for Portugal or Uruguay. I had no love lost — or won — for either Portugal or Uruguay. I had love only for the peanut butter ice cream that I was eating straight out of the tub. How do people come to support the teams they do? For the Argentina versus France match, I had no reason to want France to win. I don’t know anyone on that team. I have no sentimental attachment. If anything, Paris has too many rats.
But, on the other hand, all these people supporting Messi for all these years can be a bit annoying in their blue and white candy stripe shirts, so okay, let’s just go with France. Napoleon’s guys! *Whistle*!
Rooting for a team is easy enough if your country’s playing. But when it’s no skin off your country’s back, what drives these decisions? It can’t be all random, inky-pinky-ponky, surely. Or is it? Just pick a team and stick to it because indifference is the enemy? Is that it? And if it is, how do you generate the passion to follow through on that random decision then?
You have to pick a team. Having no team to support makes you an outsider. And one thing we desire most is to be included, isn’t it? We give a team our support and affection. In turn, the team delivers the performance, our reward for loyalty. C’mon Suárez! And yet. How do you decide? Based on what? Who is the better team? Who are the nicer guys? Which one is the underdog?
Are we all just governed by personal biases? What else can it be? I don’t have any personal bias. I just started watching football.
See, I don’t — rather, I didn’t — have enthusiasm for Messi because I know nothing about him (other than
Look at that Ronaldo on Saturday, helping that injured guy off the field and receiving a round of claps, people’s phones clicking away. Nice gesture, no? Sporty
that he’s worshipped, and sympathised with for his run of bad luck at the World Cup). But I like that story enough to join the sympathy. But why’s he so dour? What’s with walking off the pitch that time, the match before the match with Nigeria? Yes, yes, crestfallen, but surely, once you reach a stature, you have to stay stoic for the men and dissolve your quest for individual glory? Are all good leaders in permanent hibernation?
Like, look at that Ronaldo on Saturday, helping that injured guy off the field and receiving a round of claps, people’s phones clicking away. Nice gesture, no? Sporty. I know nothing about Ronaldo either, but that was good to see.
As a fence sitter, by the end of Saturday, June 30, I felt bad for Messi and I felt bad for Ronaldo. I don’t know who I felt worse for. Do you necessarily have to choose?
Last Tuesday. Argentina vs Nigeria. A bunch of us were at this terrace screen. Kegs and pizza. Buoyant mood. I wanted Nigeria to win. I wanted also dour Messi to score, because: poor thing. I sympathise with those burdened with expectation. And, see, he did okay that day.
I asked a friend who I thought would give me something to chew on: “Why do we support the teams we support?” I received this: “Boredom I guess. [sic]. And the narrative that capitalism feeds us.” Made no sense. I didn’t reply.
On Saturday, earlier in the evening, a conversation before the Portugal-Uruguay match went like this: Friend: Who you rooting for — Argentina or France? Me: I don’t know. I just don’t want that Neymar to win.
Friend: Huh?! Neymar is Brazil!
Me: Oh. Ha ha. Okay, then France. I want France to win.
But that was before I saw Uruguay play. Between France and Uruguay? No idea.
nivriti@khaleejtimes.com