I discovered this year how much I love soccer.
You may or may not believe this, but it's true: In a month I turn 32, and until last September, I had never played soccer before.
This is probably foreign to you. I know your stories - I've heard all about the orange slices at halftime and the kicking and the goals.
But that wasn't me.
Soccer, for me, was what the kids on the fields behind the left-field fence on my baseball field played....and also a television event once every four years.
Now those four years are up, and in addition to my newfound love for playing soccer (not very well, by the way), I am excited to watch soccer.
OK. Maybe that's a little bit of a stretch. I'm not exactly excited about watching the games. At least, from start to finish.
I'm excited to catch the scores. I'm excited about the prospect of the USA being competitive. I'm excited about watching the games with some friends.
But soccer still bores the heck out of me.
That's why I was so surprised to find out how fun it was to play. Maybe I don't play correctly, because I'm always running to the ball and kicking it (I am really aggressive), but there's always action when I'm playing soccer. And the boring times are when the ball's away from me, and I need to catch my breath.
That's much different from the boring times when I'm watching a game on TV...which is whenever the team I'm rooting for doesn't score.
And that comes in bunches.
But for now, it's still fresh. If I can arrange it today, i'll be watching England-USA in its entirety with my daughters.
And if the U.S. keeps winning...maybe I'll be able to sit through a few more games.