lobelia321 | My LJ During the World Cup: pics, LJ-cuts and ecstasy (Reply)

frogspace kindly pointed out that my lack of an LJ-cut for picspams is causing mayhem for her phone LJ access. So I thought I should announce my policies or lack thereof for the duration of the World Cup.

I'm afraid there will often be times in the next 4 weeks when my excitement is just too much for the confines of an LJ-cut and I will need (yes, need) to post pics outside of a cut. I will need to broadcast my thrilled delight to the world and impose it on all and sundry, including those who couldn't care less or who actively resist the Lure of Football Glory.

Be comforted, though: the madness endeth on 11 July. :-)

Plus, I will try to make the pics relatively small.

Relatively.

Um.

1978. In Argentina. Winners: Argentina.
An adolescent me who lived in the Australian time zone got up at 3.30 in the morning to watch games on a tiny black-and-white television, wrapped in woolly blankets against the antipodean winter chill. My heart throbbed to the beat of Italian hotness. Nobody else cared. But I did play soccer for my girls' school! Two years later, I'd be learning Italian at night school in preparation for studying it at university.

Happy Argentines:

Hottie Paolo Rossi (Italy):

1982. In Spain. Winners: Italy.
Where was I? That one is a blur.

1986. In Mexico. Winners: Argentina.
Somehow, the entire Maradona era passed me by. I sat with an earnest fellow-studentrix in her West Berlin flat, constructing an elaborate presentation and paper on the Bamberg Rider for my seminar on mediaeval architecture and sculpture. We noted with disdain and intellectual snobbery the hooliganish roars from nearby pubs as goals were scored that I didn't even know about. A sad year.

1990. In Italy. Winners: West Germany.
Back to the glorious fold! With a new bunch of feisty feminist friends, and a few graciously suffered boys, we sat glued to the television for weeks and weeks. This was the year of Cameroon and I was imprinted forever. We screamed, we laughed, we wept, we danced, oh it was unforgettable. Everyone's dream final in Berlin was West Germany:Cameroon. Everyone's hero was Roger Milla (see icon). Unbelievably, Cameroon made it to the quarter-final, the first African team ever to come so far, and the excitement of it all was nearly enough to do me in.

1994. In the USA. Winners: Brazil.
I had a baby but still managed to squeeze in a game or two, thanks to forgiving time zone differences.

1998. In France. Winners: France.
Who can forget the glory of the underdog surprising the whole world? France won, and it was the awesomest of awesome. I had another baby, too.

2002. In Japan and the Korean Republic. Winners: Brazil.
It was in Asia! Half the stadium was full of women and the roar of the crowd an octave higher than usual! The crowd was great, the atmosphere electric, the whole thing amazing fun! I txted my sister non-stop. Nobody understood why I didn't root for Germany. Somehow, the world believes that one must support only the country whose passport one holds. Not me!

I was also in the throes of fandom. I had discovered lotrips that January, my entry fandom, and was slashing boys, toasters and elderly detectives left, right and centre. Strangely, it never once occurred to me to slash the footballers although

badgermonkey and I did produce copious amounts of Gary Lineker/Alan Hansen txt fics. Note to non-UK residents: these are yumsome BBC TV football commentators.

2006. In Germany. Winners: Italy.
Australia was in it! Germany was it! I loved my volk again, after years of being against their boring football strategic bore play! The babies were by this time big enough not to whine every ten minutes "Can we watch The Simpsons instead?" but well on the road to full football indoctrination.

Plus: I slashed! omg, did I slash. The sun was hot. I sat in the garden, laptop on table, and gloried in Cristiano Ronaldo/Kaká; Wayne Rooney/Cristiano Ronaldo (a pairing that now, I note, is OTP among many but at the time was massively controversial, especially in the wake of the winker-game); and a whole new amazing rampant insane frenzied fandom!!!

It even lasted one or two seasons into the universe of clubs. But, *shrugs*, the clubs aren't really my thing. It's nation pitted against nation wot makes my lustful heart to throb.

The tears.

The joy.

2010. In South Africa. Winners: Not yet known!!!! Final is 11 July!!!!
I was in tears even before the first ball was kicked off. When they said 'The Cup is in Africa', I dissolved. New blood has appeared, new players, new teams. The loveliness of not following clubs is that it's like a whole new family that I get to know every four years. The babies are now well and truly independent fans in their own right who know names, stats, club affiliations, do fantasy football, have their own football parties, and sometimes *shock* disagree in whom they support!!

It's the world's biggest fandom!! I love it!!!

Cameroon trains, May 2010.

ETA: Hm. On the other hand, I just scrolled down my Flist and thought, what is this annoying post with all these huge pics cluttering up my screen?

And it was my own...

I may yet learn to love the lj-cut tag...!