Jubulani!

It’s the eve of World Cup South Africa 2010, the eighth tournament of my lifetime, sixth of my memory and fourth since fanaticism really took hold.

Four years ago, I watched World Cup Germany in New York City, the best place I know outside of the host country to rub elbows and start arguments with partisans of every participating nation (and then some), and where, as a result of all that interaction, my love for the sport evolved into a love for the culture.

This year, I’ll watch from Los Angeles, a place with nearly as many constituencies but a labyrinth of freeways keeping them apart. And so, like so many emotionally marooned young men before me, I turn, where else, but to the internet.

My hope is that over the next month the blog will be a way to share the thrills, drama, excitement and heartbreak of the greatest sporting event in the world. If it never moves beyond recapping matches, it’ll at least be an outlet with which to praise the Zidanes and lament the Pekermans of this South African edition. If it sparks a conversation about tactics, it means I will have found obsessive brethren. And if it moves beyond the touchline — if it even hints at the subtexts of the matches, brushes against the philosophies that engender playing styles, begins to address the ways the sport both defines cultures and transcends them — well, then it will have gone a long way toward explaining why I'm so in love with this game.

I’m beginning this with the meagrest of expectations: I hope to post as often as I can manage, and I hope a couple people follow along. I expect only friends and family, but please feel free to pass this along—more the merrier. And, if you’re interested in writing, shoot me an email; I’m more than happy to share the platform.

Oh, and one last thing, if you’re a Tommy Smyth fan, this should probably be the last entry you read.

Alright, Mexico, South Africa, let’s get this thing started!