Jameel @ The Shrink (The Anti-SoccerDad)

Out of the entire JBlogosphere, there's only ONE blogger...one particular blogger who has decided that I'm neurotic about my hatred towards the World Cup. He leaves comment after comment that imply I have way too many issues with it...and should get over it already. He must be among the 2 billion people that take offense to the Simpson's video I posted. (BIG hat-tip to Mike M. for it :-)

Normally, I'm thick skinned enough to ignore such comments. But he irked me...I thought about what he said...and then thought about it some more.

Therefore, I've decided to break with blog protocol and discuss something very, very personal on my blog...why I can't stand spectator sports...specifically soccer, or "footie" as that blogger calls it.

I must mention first that bashing the world cup has its advantages. The Simpson's video I posted yesterday was picked up by my friend Jack for other's viewing entertainment...and then I even got a link to a blog I'd never heard of before..."The Streim" Apparently it's a German blog and it also liked my posting about the 2 billion dimwits watching the World Cup.

"Fußball ist… öde! Stimmt nicht? Dann mal schnell hier die “Simpsons” gucken: “Pass in den Flügel. In die Mitte. In den Flügel.” Oder, wie Homer S. sagen würde: “Boooooring.”

My German's a bit rusty, so I had to use the google (tm) language translation tool to figure out what he wrote:

Football is desert…! Isn't correct? Then times the “Simpsons” looks fast here: “Passport into the wing. Into the center. Into the wing.” Or, as Homer S. would say: “Boooooring.”

Football is desert?

Huh?

Like endless sand dunes, camels, blazing hot sun, and no water -- that kind of desert?

Whatever. Anyway - I got sidetracked with that German blog, but here goes:

Walking up to Dr. Mark's office, I knew I had to finally face the music. This was one of those life milestones that could not be avoided and it was about time to get some therapy for my intense hatred towards that awful spectator sport called...soccer football.

The pleasant looking secretary smiled at me. "Good Morning Jameel, Dr. Mark will be available shortly. Please take a seat."

A neat pile of magazines were piled up on a coffee table near the couch. Let's see..."Soccer Daily"...hmmm. Let's put that at the BOTTOM of the pile.

Newsweek Magazine - looks good. Huh? World Cup on the cover? I'm starting to sweat a bit.

I look up and there's a cool 32 inch plasma TV on the wall....and its a World Cup game? England vs. Micronesia? And Micronesia is winning? Good for them. My heads starts to spin...and Dr. Mark calls me to his office.

I lie down on his couch and it all starts to unravel. My psyche burts out through our conversation...and it was awful....all those pent-up latent memories...

When I was 14 months old...my babysitter (could it have been my older brother?) dropped me on my head when Pele missed the goal of the game. I'm screaming in pain and STILL get no attention as my caretaker dejectedly slumps on the couch. Hello?! I'm in pain here? Doesn't anyone care?

Kindergarden. My dad didn't attend my kingdergarden (please note corrected spelling) graduation ceremony because he was too busy watching the World Cup. All the other kids had parents there. Not me. The parents of the girl I never got along with drove me home as we sat in the back seat sticking out our tounges, and making obnoxious faces at each other.

1982. I was all excited about the upcoming World Cup. I went out and purchased pennants, soccer balls, posters of my favorite players...everything was set. My older brother's girlfriend started laughing at me saying that soccer was stupid and for wimps. She said ice-hockey was so much more interesting. Since then I shy away from soccer and play hockey on motzei shabbat.

Attempting to get back in the groove, I partied during college at a post World Cup championship party. Unluckily for me, I overslept the following morning and missed the infamous MBAT exam AND my Economics Final exam. Soccer and the World Cup lower my GPA to 3.49, ruining my chance to go to Med School.

Sophmore year. First serious girlfriend I ever had...she was a fan for Estonia. I was rooting for Argentina. We broke up after Argentina won and I did a victory dance at Shmulka Bernsteins giving a high-five to all the Chinese waiters....she was not impressed.

After I dropped her back at Stern, she told all her friends that only a loser would root for Argentina. We haven't spoken since. But I could never get rid of the amazing world cup kippa she crocheted for me. Maybe I should sell it on ebay?

My first summer job. Belcore. Mega cool radar system for submarines. I was fired for encouraging my fellow lab partners to run practice drills through the hallway. I couldn't control myself as I screamed, "GOOOOOAAAAAL"

I was so much better than them anyway.

My kids were soccer freaks -- till they smashed a soccer ball through my neighbor's bay window, breaking the 7th century Ming dynasty vase. That was the last straw.

I was now the scourge of the neighborhood...everyone hated me...and I decided that never again would I watch soccer...european football...call it what you want.

And never as a spectator. It ruined my life.

That was years ago.

Now I'm a fully functional member of society, and I control my psyche by raging out on my blog against all the idiots watching the world cup. All Two Billion of them.

There, I feel much better now.

Now we can back to business.

Aliya anyone?



Wherever I am, my blog turns towards Eretz Yisrael