It’s here, it’s here! Speeding towards our collective brains like The Flash on steroids, the FIFA World Cup is here to unleash some glorious fanaticism, thus making it okay for a straight man to say stuff like “Cristiano’s ball-control is sexy.”
This is also the time you get to see the true colours of India – i.e. whether you unfurl the flag of Spain or Germany or Brazil or some other country whose only memory of India is a study in mismanagement. But enough about the Parliament.
This is a tournament I intend to follow day in and day out with all the dedication of a Facebook stalker, allocating vital portions of my brain to trivia, such as the number of assists provided by one Xherdan Shaqiri, who is either a Swiss midfielder or an imaginary childhood friend that I made up because I know nobody whose name starts with X and who is not Chinese.
After having survived the eargasm and consequent aural rape of vuvuzelas in the previous edition of the FIFA World Cup, its time for some Samba. Expect colour, expect loudness, and maybe expect Shah Rukh Khan expressing his desire to buy a country’s football team or so. But above all, expect yourself Tom Cruise-ing your sofa while watching 22 sweaty mean run after one ball.
The FIFA World Cup is here. The greatest show on the planet. Also the most watched event by Indians, if you ignore the Cricket World Cup, the Cricket World T20, the Indian Premier League, the Ranji Trophy, the Bangladesh Premier League, the College T20 Cup, the Inter School T20 Cup, the T20 Cup for the homeless, and search results for “Virat Kohli hot pixxx”.
I kid you, of course. There’s also the Sri Lanka Premier League.