(Other) Cup Crazy

Giuseppe Rossi will be watching at home with the rest of us.

by E. James Beale

Let's be honest:

Even with little more than a happy hour and a morning coffee between us and the World Cup, you probably still don't know what all the fuss is about. That is because here in Philadelphia there are three (and only three) types of soccer fans. You're probably the third.

Type 1: The expatriate.

For those who grew up in Philly, interest in odd geopolitical clashes — South Korea versus Greece! — is mild. For those with an actual rooting interest, the World Cup is a spirited link back to their homelands. While we enjoy their off-key patriotic songs, there's nothing we can teach them that they don't already know.

They will wax on about the four beautiful months spent abroad junior year when they "discovered the beauty of footy" while getting drunk on their parents' dime. Every fourth year this group emerges in non-native colors, talks loudly about their favorite Premier League team and refers to football as "American football" in totally inappropriate settings.

(We know you're the third type because you're still reading. Expats disregarded my opinion after I outed myself as an American. The douches all left in a huff when I mocked them for saying "footy"; the chances of them reading this far are about as high as their Arsenal jersey getting them laid.) You, however, enjoy cheering, day-boozin' and bandwagoning on the type of emotional rawness that grown men tend to reserve for the birth of their first daughter. As such, you probably haven't done the leg work to catch up on the who's who of the upcoming month. That's where we come in. We'd need a book to catch you up on 32 teams and 80 years of history, but the answers to these commonly asked questions should allow you to buddy up to the expats and shout down the douchebags.

Um, the world? Countries from Switzerland to Serbia to South Korea are entered. Spain and Brazil are the clear favorites, England and the Netherlands both have talent for days but love to choke, and Argentina has the best player in the world (Messi) and the craziest coach (Maradona, who was Messi before Messi was) — always a dangerous combination. The Ivory Coast is the class of Africa, but thanks to an injury to their lone star — Drogba, who broke his arm last week — they may end up as irrelevant as the U.S.A.

South Africa, which appears about as prepared for this as Larry King was for Jerry Seinfeld. Prostitutes are being flown in from across the globe, reporters talk openly about the likelihood of being kidnapped, and already 15 fans were injured in a stampede for tickets.

Not really a question, but fair enough. Here are conversation starters for the inevitable commercial breaks: 1.) During games you will hear something called a vuvuzela, which, contrary to popular opinion, is not a dirty word. They are plastic trumpets loud enough to make in-game coaching irrelevant, and they will be played nonstop. 2.) Maradona, the former great turned Argentine coach, is returning from the short ban he received for driving over a photographer's foot with his car then accusing the man of being "an asshole" for getting his foot in the way. 3.) Giuseppe Rossi, born and raised in New Jersey, would have been a surefire starter on the American team. But the forward repeatedly rejected U.S. overtures in hopes of making Italy the defending champs. Last week he was among the final cuts — he'll be watching at home with the rest of us. 4.) North Korea, which qualified for its first cup since 1966, has already fucked up. In an apparent attempt to game the system the North Korean coach tried to sneak striker Kim Myong-won onto the roster as his third goalie. Soccer governing body FIFA noticed, and now Kim will only be allowed to enter the pitch in goal.

Great question. Thanks to ESPN winning the broadcast rights and promoting the fuck out of it, "where" changed from a handful of sports bars to the more-helpful "everywhere." Still, here are some places that are going to be ramping it up: Fadó is shutting down 15th and Locust to show the games on an 18-foot screen, while Dark Horse Pub, 700, O'Neal's, Field House and New Deck promise specials, early openings and unencumbered focus on the games.

E. James Beale won't stop blowing his vuvuzela. Ask him to stop at e.james.beale@citypaper.net.