Nurse the Hate: The Moment of Clarity

As noted earlier, I have really gotten into the World Cup.  I love the fervent nationalism, and watching the life and death fandom from a casual emotional distance.  I have also wagered quite successfully, this despite not knowing anything at all about soccer.  Frankly I would be just as qualified to bet on a bass fishing tournament.  Either based on sheer luck, or my now patented strategy of betting on a country based on my appreciation for their alcohol production quality, it has all worked out very very well.  (Today, it might be a good idea to bet on the Dutch.  I find their beer more pleasing than Argentina’s ocean of malbec or gamey torrontes whites.)

Yesterday I watched Germany deliver a humiliation beyond comprehension to the host Brazilians with a 7-1 trouncing.  That represented as an NFL score would be 82-3.  It really got away from the Brazilians.  As the TV broadcast worked in crying and wailing fans, I found a warm glow of happiness spread across me.  To see the dreams and hopes of these innocent fans destroyed in such a public and unforgettable way really made me glow.  The question formed in the back of my mind when I realized I wasn’t happy about Germany advancing and closing in on a 5-1 payoff, but rather the distress of these otherwise happy and attractive people… What is wrong with me?

I think I may have become twisted by living in this particular section of America.  Here the weather is almost always awful.  Our sports teams lose.  The economy folds in on itself.  The roads are crumbling.  The inner cities are like the Wild West with gunplay ready to break out in a moment’s notice.  In the rare instance when someone succeeds from the area, the population will rise en masse to point out their shortcomings and seethe at their good fortune.  Here it is expected that you will lose, not only in sport but in life.  To expect or hope for anything more is to just invite disappointment and sorrow.  That in itself has become a self-fulfilling prophecy.  Goals become small.  Dreams become minor.  To try to succeed is dangerous. 

If I really think about it, is this regional mindset the reason I never became something like an astronaut or powerful network television executive?  Well, to be honest the astronaut thing wouldn’t have worked out as I limped through high school geometry and would have had no chance at the advanced math classes those astronaut dudes have taken.  Hell, I had to go to Summer School to get past Geometry II. That was a bit of a joke.  To be honest, they passed you for just showing up with the rest of the Marlboro Light smoking heavy metal bad kids.  I didn’t learn any geometry that July, but I did find out about the Scorpions.  I still don’t know how to find the area of a rhombus and have gotten on in life by avoiding any rhombus I may encounter.  I would have never even had the chance to endure some kind of astronaut training chair where they whirl you around for an hour at 200 mph upside down.  I got undone by the rhombus.  I can’t blame the Rust Belt on the “astronaut failure”.  That’s on me.

The Network Executive idea is pretty far-fetched too.  I can’t sit in meetings and say things like “Great idea Stevereno!” when in fact it’s a stupid idea with no chance of success.  There is a real art to sucking up to those ahead of you in a corporate food chain, and living your life in constant fear that you may displease one of these individuals.  I stupidly answer things honestly when asked questions.  I would have no chance at the slick World of Lies of Network TV.  Plus, I have become so far removed from what ordinary people like to be entertained by while eating Kool Ranch Doritos on the couch.  “American Idol?  Who the fuck wants to watch a karaoke contest on TV?  No way that show works!”  My programming ideas would be way too niche…  “Today it was announced that ABC has green lit a Roky Erickson reality show, as well as a sure to be controversial show called “Blank vs. Blank” where ordinary citizens are plucked from their homes to try and combat a random wild animal in something called The Arena of Truth”.  Network president Greg Miller was clearly excited about the new shows despite his staffers clear reservations about the new direction of the now flailing network.”

Maybe my spot in life is just that of some guy with limited abilities that can come up with a song or two, gamble on things he doesn’t know about, and just can’t work hard/smart enough to really accomplish anything.  Perhaps this schadenfreude of mine is just part of the package, and hasn’t been trained into me like I was a seal at Sea World.  All I know is that I really hope a bunch of Argentine fans traveled to Brazil to see their semifinal match today, and with luck the Dutch crush their dreams…