The reason I loathe the World Cup is because by the time it rolls around every four years, the guy in the cubicle next to you who has never uttered a word about sports suddenly becomes the biggest soccer enthusiast ever. He knows the players, he has a favorite and least favorite team, he somehow manages to find and display a shiny new jersey of the popular pick to win it, which has really been in the bottom of his desk drawer since the last World Cup. Seriously, you don't remember when he wore it two years ago for that paella night? He tries to wow the office with his predictions and grievances and World Cup history factoids. It's all a bit much. In fact, the sometimes passionate, sometimes closeted soccer fan is, in one word, annoying. Almost as intolerable as the Hope and Change kool-aid drinker. Often they are one and the same.
That said, I wish the World Cup was held later in the summer this year, because for the past month there has been absolutely no sporting event to watch or care about on TV. Of course, I'm omitting the Bachelorette. But in such a drought of competitive action (yes, I know Major League Baseball is going on, but can I really be expected to sit down and watch nine innings of America's past time when the modern world has me busy tweeting, blogging, texting, and downloading apps?), it's good to know there's a fictional sport as asinine as shirling. Then again, aren't all Gaelic-Italian sports asinine?
I know what you're thinking. One day shirling will be performed in the Olympics. Perhaps. Until then, I'll be counting down the days to football season. Brett Favre or not.