Nope, not necessarily my picks for the World Cup finals, but the colors I chose at the farmers market this morning (Lucero farms).
But back to Oranj and La Furia Roja since the World Cup is as beautiful and delicious right now as cherry tomatoes and strawberries.
Footballers represent athleticism in its purest form. They are fast, nimble, enduring, and brilliant in action.
They are also fiercely attractive.
But recently, as I tried to get to know many of them (virtually, since there were no other options), I learned that many are womanizing, egomaniac multi-millionaires who preen themselves, the way peacocks do. As my friend Ravenna says, "there's a lot of waxing...a lot of metro out there." My fantasy boyfriend, who plays for a team that was humiliated in the early rounds of the cup, was arrested for punching someone in the face.
That’s nice.
But on the pitch, these players (using the term in all its glory here) are wizards. They can turn the ball into a rocket, dancing object or mad spinning top making it go where ever they want it to. And they—at least many on the teams that have made it to the semis—are resilient, hardworking, and care about the collective good of the players.
Footballers represent athleticism in its purest form. They are fast, nimble, enduring, and brilliant in action.
They are also fiercely attractive.
But recently, as I tried to get to know many of them (virtually, since there were no other options), I learned that many are womanizing, egomaniac multi-millionaires who preen themselves, the way peacocks do. As my friend Ravenna says, "there's a lot of waxing...a lot of metro out there." My fantasy boyfriend, who plays for a team that was humiliated in the early rounds of the cup, was arrested for punching someone in the face.
That’s nice.
But on the pitch, these players (using the term in all its glory here) are wizards. They can turn the ball into a rocket, dancing object or mad spinning top making it go where ever they want it to. And they—at least many on the teams that have made it to the semis—are resilient, hardworking, and care about the collective good of the players.
I know football is not a place to look for a husband. But watching these guys, I forget my age and their peccadilloes because they look glorious in action. Oh how masterfully they pass the ball between their feet, left and right, backwards and diagnonally with exquisite precision.
They tear down the field like jaguars, hurling their bodies after the ball uninhibitedly and tolerating pounces, shoves and blows along the way.
They tear down the field like jaguars, hurling their bodies after the ball uninhibitedly and tolerating pounces, shoves and blows along the way.
Even when they get violently tackled, they bounce back to sprint a couple of kilometers using their heads to ricochet 70-mph Jabulani. Didier Drogba was playing with a broken arm! Determined and purposeful, they seem to forget themselves. They will do whatever it takes.
Yet they are vulnerable too. Over these past few weeks I have seen the gamut of flared tempers and physical aggression, but also wild outbursts of joy, tears, and tenderness.
All things considered, I think I have discovered my favorite team, pictured below. I don't know what these guys do in their private lives, but that may be irrelevant to me because they have all the right stuff on the pitch: teamwork, technique, artistry, superb fitness and emotional intelligence. They are ethnically diverse, and short and tall to boot. (Pun intended.)
By the way, there wasn’t any black-red-and-gold produce this morning.
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