World Cup fever has taken over my office, and I have thoroughly enjoyed listening to the groans and moans of coworkers shouting about their disdain for every bad call, missed goal, and score for the other team. (Working in an officle - a cubicle with a door - means I get the pleasure of overhearing a lot of fabulous things that others may not realize they are sharing with me.) Now, I’m not an avid follower of soccer (aka- el fútbol americano - yes, I paid attention in high school Spanish class), but I definitely don’t enjoy missing out on things (what Marc would refer to as ‘FOMS - Fear of Missing Something’), so I decided to join in the fun by creating a fantasy pool on Yahoo! Sports.

Shocked that I’m not an avid follower? Didn’t I play soccer in my childhood, like most other elementary school kids? In all actuality, I did, for two years (to my knowledge), before dropping out during the third year. Let me explain. My first two years, I served as the goalie (at least, in my mind, this is what happened. I have no idea if this is true or not - but I definitely know that in my mind, I was the best goalie to ever play on the Loveland Parks and Recreation team. Definitely.) I am fairly certain I spent much of the time standing in front of the goal and thinking about how great of a goalie I was.

In my third season, my parents dropped me off at practice wearing a red hoodie. (In all actuality, they may have been there watching the practice, but again, in my mind, I was all alone. Hopelessly alone.) The coach lined up the kids, and started calling out different field positions, and each boy would take his turn running to the field triumphantly to show the other guys that he knew what he was doing. Given my not-so-extensive-yet-self-congratulatory experience in the world of soccer, I watched as the other boys ran to their positions and I kept creeping closer and closer to the front of the line. My anxiety rose steadily as I watched boy after boy run onto the field, seemingly knowing everything about the sport. These guys were geniuses - and I quickly realized I was not. Instead of watching and learning from their brilliant knowledge, I panicked as I realized that I only knew of one position - goalie.

My spike in blood pressure due to my nerves was exacerbated by the teasing of the bully behind me in line, who made it very clear that red hoodies were not in style that season by repeatedly pulling the hood over my head and laughing maniacally. (I still have an aversion to red hoodies. Jerk.) As the last kid before me reached the front of the line, the coach yelled, “Oh this one’s easy - GOALIE!” And as he ran to his position on the field (I mean, who doesn’t know where the GOALIE stands? Clearly, he won this round…), I started bawling. Needless to say, that was the end of my soccer journey, which may have contributed to my not-so-avid followership of the sport.

So why get into the sport again now? Other than my regular battle with FOMS, I must admit I had an additional incentive to join the World Cup fun in the office this year. Meet my motivation:

“Hello. My name is Michael Ballack, and I am ridiculously attractive. Also, I am a German Midfielder in the lovely game of soccer.”

“What’s a midfielder, you ask?”

“Don’t ask JBrady.”

“PS- I hurt my ankle, and won’t be playing in the World Cup.”

Wait, what? That’s right, Ballack is out of the game (at least for now, to my knowledge. Then again, we’ve already established my expertise in all things soccer…). But it’s okay. My pool is actually doing pretty well, thanks to the advise I got from my coworker. “Just cheer for Mexico. Jose (our admin associate/friend) would want you to.” That, and the fact that soccer players are generally a rather attractive group.

GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAL!