Not A Safari

South Africa's World Cup, as seen from New York City

headlessness

In the neighbor’s yard, a lonely white football sits in the white sun, abandoned from some child’s game. It waits, as I also wait, for the main event.

The Mundial begins in exactly one week. The last Mundial was a zone of delights, as they always are, but it was also a zone of melancholy, ending with Zidane’s decisive moment, a moment sweet in conception and execution, having something of the character of an anti-colonial rebellion, bearing a long and sour afterlife.

The melancholy of this new Mundial is a preemptive melancholy that flits around the joys to come, a placeholder before we lose ourselves in the game itself. Many advertisers have chosen to set their videos in landscapes inhabitated only by noble savages or wild animals. Analysts are interested in evidence of African economic incompetence. This nonsense is going to require saintly patience.

Futbolistically speaking, an unusual number of highly-rated teams, teams that depend on a single hero—Drogba’s Côte d’Ivoire, Essien’s Ghana, Ballack’s Germany—seem destined to do battle as did the Achaeans without Achilles: headlessly, futilely.

[TC]

Advertisements

Filed under: peroration, , ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: