No one asks me:
Why do you watch soccer?
It is a good question because there is a lot of pain in watching soccer.
And more disappointment than not, no matter who one follows.
Like when Argentina, the team I so terribly want to win, loses in a wildly unimaginable upset to Saudi Arabia, it is sad, but such a familiar feeling after all these years that I already have a comfortable place for it, a shape of resignation that it perfectly fits into. Here is a depression in my heart, in the shape of a football boot, or the hexagon print of a soccer ball.
Ah, so that's how it is again.
And then in the next game that Argentina has to win, and all looks bleak, and nothing good looks like its going to happen, and then...
There is Messi.
It is a weirdly large amount of joy for a man I don't even know to have given me over the past years.
I don't know how he kicked that into the net until I watch it again. Everything rises.
I have a place for that too.
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