It goes without saying that the FIFA World Cup is special. There are very few less obvious statements. Still, the world’s greatest sporting event has a special meaning to many that enjoy the games each day. For me the World Cup is about hope. That may sound cheesy at first, but let me qualify that statement. During the 2006 World Cup, I was technically homeless.
Writer’s Note: Don’t get me wrong here. I wasn’t wandering the streets begging for food and change. Still, I was living out of my car and bouncing between Orlando area hotels while I struggled to find both work and an apartment I could actually afford. I’ll spare you readers the circumstances, but regardless things weren’t exactly looking up. I was fortunate enough to find work at Walt Disney World, but anyone that has had to bounce between multiple hotels for more than a week (while not on vacation) knows just how degrading that feels. Back to the story…
When I returned to my hotel room after work each day, there was very little for me to do. If I wasn’t driving around the city looking for apartments, I was sitting in the lobby on my laptop planning the next day’s apartment search. The one bit of entertainment I did have was the 2006 World Cup and the pre-tournament hype. I found solace in watching soccer for the first time since I was in grade school, hoping the US could pull out a quality performance and raise my spirits.
The US failed miserably in the tournament, but every day I found myself more and more interested in soccer. The games gave me something to look forward to during long shifts as a lifeguard at the Caribbean Beach or Pop Century resorts. I was able to catch parts of matches during my lunch hour, and suddenly I found myself making friends and meeting new people all because we were watching the matches together in the dining hall. I was still homeless, but I had something to smile about. I came to Orlando knowing just one person. Now I was making friends.
The highlight of the tournament experience was seeing my co-workers, all from various parts of both the country and the world, coming together to watch the penalty shoot-out in the final. The group, for no particular reason, had rallied behind Italy. The entire dining hall jumped up and cheered when Fabio Grosso slotted home the winning penalty kick. Just a few days later, I found an apartment and put my life back together. With the way that final match lifted my spirits, I don’t see how that was a coincidence.
Adam Soucie is the author of Soccer, Not Football, a blog focused on the American game. If you’ve liked this piece, check out his other work. If you haven’t liked it, he promises there’s better stuff on his site.