Remember me? I'm the writer who used to post on this blog.
Sorry for the infrequent appearances of late. I'm still busy writing Bloodrose and am being swept away by the final chapters. But I thought I'd better stop by to say "hello" and thank you for visiting, despite my own neglect of posts.
In addition to writing. I've also been sneaking in some World Cup games.
I love the World Cup! I'm likely to run screaming from the label "morning person," while clutching my coffee cup to my chest. Even so, I'll roll out of bed at 6:30 a.m. to watch Germany vs. Serbia (darn you referee and your yellow cards!!!).
I like the World Cup even more than the Olympics. To me it's like the difference between a family reunion and a girls' weekend with your BFFs in Vegas. One is nice and comfy while the other is a 'rockin good time not to be forgotten.
The World Cup has a life of its own. You get caught up in its fever. I love knowing that all over the world, soccer fans are glued to their television sets, gathered in pubs, cheering on their teams.(Yes I know Scotland didn't qualify for the World Cup. Quiet you!)
I came to soccer, excuse me, football fandom in college while studying abroad in Scotland. My family had spent a summer in Scotland seven years earlier and I went to visit family friends - who've become much more like family than simply friends over the years - and they pretty much adopted me.
No one loves football (or for that matter, sports) than my Scottish Dad, John, and his two sons. For her own part, their mum, Sandra, is a pretty loyal fan as well. To spend time with my Scottish family is to learn to love the beautiful game. I had no trouble being hooked or accepting the fact that to truly be Scottish means always rooting against England.
When the World Cup rolls around every four years it's not just about the excitement of the games or the mesmerizing skill of the players. (Tim Howard is my hero!)It's about feeling connected to my Scottish roots, to a world of roaring fans.
If you aren't watching you should really give it a try, or at least learn what a vuvuzela is.
I'm sending this out to John, my Scottish dad, - his favorite song - and true sports anthem. Wish I were watching the matches with you in Irvine!