It doesn’t really matter who you are or where you come from. This is a shared celebration.
You are Greek. Your country has been ravaged over the past months with spiraling government debt provoking default concerns, austerity measures, street riots, and the potential disintegration of an entire continent’s currency. Amidst this backdrop, you take a pause from the economic calamity to watch, with restored national pride, your beloved football team. You revel in every touch that comes from the foot of striker Theofanis Gekas, darling of the European World Cup qualifying. And come what may, on the field and off, you — citizen of the country that invented the word “nostalgia” — will not let yourself forget that captivating summer when Greece miraculously triumphed in Euro 2004.
You are a Catracho, one of the eight million natives of Honduras. 12 years ago, your country endured the worst of a massive hurricane whose impact was said to have erased 50 years of progress. Two years ago, floods crippled your country. A year ago saw the unfolding of a bizarre and frightening political crisis. Your team barely qualified for the World Cup — not by the skin of your teeth but by the scalp of a gringo. Had an American not headed in a corner kick with 20 seconds left in a match between the US and Costa Rica, your Central American neighbours, not you, would have found themselves in this tournament.But there is no shame. You count life’s special blessings.
You are Nelson Mandela. You served 27 years in prison during South Africa’s ugliest years. During those years, you and your fellow prisoners formed a football league in the prison. You are an inspirational touchstone for the entire world. This event does not happen without your strident, singular voice. Tragically, on the eve of the World Cup inception, you lose one of your great-grandchildren in a car accident. Yours has been a life of resilience and redemption.
You are a bona fide desi. Your team is not in the World Cup. But the swatches of culture that make up India’s history are many and diverse, with threads encircling the globe. Your nation has a unique bond with the Cup’s host country; the icon behind the founding of your democracy began his legacy of non-violence on behalf of persecuted communities in South Africa. The imprint of the Portuguese, one of the Cup’s favored teams, is unmistakable on your country’s western coast. Another favorite, the English, left a deep, mixed legacy, evident in the language you speak and the trains you ride. And a game that often ends in nil-nil draws should somehow resonate with you; yours, after all, is the civilization that invented the zero.
You are me. You were born in Colombia, a country that a decade ago glimpsed the promise of World Cup glory but has since struggled to make its mark in its favorite sport. Your first name is Michel. When you were young, you thought you were named after the great French captain, Michel Platini (or maybe, you wondered, it was the other way around). You moved to the US when you were six years old. You tried out for your high school’s junior varsity football team. On the first day of practice, you wore a t-shirt that read “Colombia: lo nuestro es tuyo” (what’s ours is yours). The coach took you at your word and slotted you in the center midfield slot. After observing 15 minutes of dubious play, he relegated you to the bench for the rest of the season.
You could be anybody. It doesn’t really matter. Raise high the curtain. This game is yours.
Michel Di Capua is a New York-based writer. He will be writing on FIFA 2010 for Business Standard