Once every four years

It always goes like this. Every four years. I think I’m too old for it. I tell myself it’s all just a bunch of marketing and hype, anyway. But every four years, it gets me.

I’m not proud of it. I want to think I’m an adult. But then I see a clip of Marco Tardelli celebrating his goal against Germany in the 1982 final…and it all comes rushing back. I’m a child. The game on right now is the only thing that matters in the whole world.

I’m not stupid. I know it’s a fantasy. But when I’m watching it, it seems real.

One month every four years I allow myself this. For one month, I look on this competition like a child might. Is it a ridiculous self-indulgence? Probably. In fact, I’m sure it is. 

 But, am I about to stop? Not by a longshot. Go Serbia!