The Plight of the Soccer Widow

Dilemmas and dysfunction, the plight of the soccer widow
Yet there's a curious periodicity to those moments of sorrow
The arc of estrangement, it is said, reaches its peak every four years
During the world cup, experimental evidence confirms the trail of tears

For the soccer widow wears a thick veil of invisibility
The absent spouse having discarded the burden of responsibility
Grudging grunts and head nods, barely even acknowledging
It's clear you'll have to fend for yourself and your offspring

Alienation of affection, or rather transference
For that month, football is his sole allegiance
True, the unbridled enthusiasm can sometimes be infectious
After a win, especially, the tribal cheers are precious

But it turns out that frustration is the lot of the soccer widow
And her sole consolation is that there's no game tomorrow
A temporary reprieve that day between rounds of the competition
Palliative relief, truth be told, for the husband's obsession

For instead it's the constant discussion of minor trivia
Speculation about the starting lineups and locker room drama
Lamenting bribery and corruption in the ranks of FIFA
Bemoaning those sheikhs that brought the game to Qatar

Bedraggled after the first two weeks, now he's looking rough
All conversations revolve around a draw that was markedly tough
The injustice of being drawn in the group of death
But also the upside of the situation on betting spreads

That it's now all about commerce, rank power, and globalization
Colonizers facing independent states, questions of possession
No time for the old thrills and sensations of the beautiful game
Total football is long gone, there's a sameness to the styles of play

Complaining about the commentary, he's going quite out of his mind
Expletives galore - shouting: "Can't you see? The referee is blind!"
The madness, the insanity, the chants, the screams
The color of memory, fully wrapped in this fever dream

Any hopes for discipline are fictitious, those costs are fully sunk
All schedules rearranged, it's a wonder that any work gets done
Your household in upheaval, leaving you to do all the pickups
You're left wondering when you'll see the end of this world cup

But there's also the morning after, the inevitable disappointment
Comes the letdown and recriminations when the dream comes to an end
Worse still is the glint in the eye, even after he's fully spent
He's already looking forward to the next one four years hence


...

"Some people believe football is a matter of life and death. I'm very disappointed with that attitude. I can assure you it is much, much more important than that."

— The Shankly Code (Shankly, Bill)

(2022)

(2006)

...

Timing is everything
Observers are worried


See previously: Dilemmas

File under: life, culture, observation, humour, football, obsession, world cup, dilemma, obsession, humour, satire, soccer, Observers are worried, whimsy, poetry, toli

Writing log. December 10, 2022

Could have been / Should have been

We've been at the part of the World Cup, ever since the group stage ended, where many of the spectators have been muttering the "could have been / should have been" mantra. Fans don't need prompting from sensationalist reporting about implosions, denigration of the coach's strategy, team cohesiveness, slips of concentration or the vagaries of the drama of the game. Us football fans simply know. We could see for ourselves and feel it in our bones. We know what could have been, we know what should have been.

Every team had its chances - unlike in other world cups, this has been a wide open competition. Read the reports in zonal marking and you won't see much onesidedness. Even where there were clear gaps in class vis-a-vis their opponents (say Honduras or Australia), the teams in question had opportunities. The Socceroos were thrilling and gave palpitations because of their athleticism and Cahill's finishing ability. Those who pooh-poohed the Iranians' defensive-mindedness will admit that when they finally broke out they were potent. The Ivoriens will wonder how they let the Greeks back in with minutes to go. The Mexicans, Chileans and the Colombians will know that they will never have collapsed like the Brazilian hosts did today... It could have been, it should have been.

Closer to home, Ghanaians are ruing the missed opportunities and thinking about how they were the only team to really frighten the Germans. Even more-so than in 2010, when we could taste the semi-finals and beyond, Ghanaians were expecting to return with silverware - Group of Death be damned. Those seven minutes when Ghana had Germany on the run and could even had piled on and added a couple of goals to their lead will be an enduring memory. It could have been, it should have been.

I still feel that Sulley Muntari getting his second yellow card during that game hence missing the crucial midfield battle against the Portuguese was the turning point, but even then Ghana had its chances against Portugal as we did in every game that we played. It could have been, it should have been.

I think to the sense of predatory anticipation every time Costa Rica's Joel Campbell touched the ball. I wonder why it took Wayne Rooney 75 minutes to realize that he had to come back to make deeper runs to shrug off his man-to-man marker - something that took James Rodriguez 25 minutes in Columbia's toughest match. Why didn't his manager simply signal from the bench since his star was being anonymous. The Hodgson Puzzle perhaps, and there have been many other puzzles this time. It could have been, it should have been.

I think to the fluency of the passing when teams really gelled. Colombia, The Netherlands and others. And Ghana. And Ghana... The 4 man game that Asamoah Gyan, Andre Ayew, Kwadwo Asamoah and Sulley Muntari sometimes offered was thrilling. I recall Kwadwo Asamoah's brilliant crosses and that last ditch tackle at the end of the Germany match. Turns out that that was not enough. It could have been, it should have been.

Soundtrack for this note

Abbey Lincoln - Should've Been (listen here)

One of my favorites from A Turtle's Dream. I still miss her desperately.

It's the sound of sorry
Looking yonder with regret
Sorry 'cause of what you got
And what you didn't get

Could've been another song
Would've been a sing along
Could've been, would've been
Should've been

File under: football, sports, drama, regret, world cup, Ghana, culture, observation, perception, Africa, toli

World Cup Radio Toli

I tried to keep away, believe me... Last night, right after the movers departed with our possessions, I donned my Stephen Appiah shirt and headed to the WGBH studios to make an appearance on Radio Open Source to dispense some toli on the World Cup and sports as a leading indicator. You can download the podcast to listen if you care. It was my last Bostonian hurrah with Christopher Lydon, Chelsea Merz and crew, a show packed with both erudition and down home punditry. On the phone were Robert Lipsyte, Stacy-Marie Ishmael, Patrick Belton and John Ralston Saul - cosmpolitans and sports lovers all.

Chris's pitch for the show was simple

What is this comprehensive "globalization" of sports stars, money, victory all about?

What is the story unfolding in this World Cup summer of empires falling and rising — empires of money and fashion as well as of national pride and prestige?

These were some notes I sent him over the weekend, my talking points, if you like, about possible directions for the topic: sports as leading indicator and sports as globalization off the top of my head.

On Sports as a Leading Indicator

You'd have to talk about the French team and its composition.

Zidane as the street gladiator. 17 of the 23 players are minorities. Cosmopolitans?

You'd also have to talk about how they are looked at by their countrymen... With love by most, but ambivalence or outright hostility by some (e.g. Jean Marie Le Pen).

You'd have to talk about the changing nature of the game and how everyone plays in Europe. The Brazilians have made almost one billion dollars selling their players to European teams. The Africans too, and these days many of the African teams were playing a very European game with only flashes of their previous freer flowing style.

What about identity and allegiances? I've pondered it recently.

Brazil, Argentina and Old Europe as the Great Powers; South Korea's showing in the last World Cup. Australia doing better than the US this time.

Rupert Murdoch built his empire on sports: Sky satellites... Fox Sports World and elsewhere as the expression of his parochial interests. The problem with the coverage: all highlights, all sensational, all superficial, all triumph over adversity, missing the subtext. Compare to Fox News.

Connect to the entirely ridiculous coverage by ESPN/ABC. Less said on that. I watched it all on Univision. This bit by Jeff Klein of the New York Times covers it all: The Sins of American Sportscasting.

Dana Blankenhorn too wrote about The Greatest Game Ever Played

Americans still have no clue about the World Cup, or of soccer in general.

The U.S. announcers are horrible. They talk about everything but the game in front of them. They repeat the back-story endlessly. They assume the ending and look two games ahead. They talk about other shows to be on the next day or the next week.

Tony Karon, whose coverage was excellent, had piped in earlier with How to Watch the World Cup.

I have a pretty good idea where Osama bin Laden will be on June 14 -- and June 19, and again on June 23. Not his exact location, but it's a safe bet he'll be in front of a TV tuned in to Saudi Arabia's World Cup soccer matches with, respectively, Tunisia, Ukraine, and Spain.

Sporting Blues

You'd have to talk about America's place in sports. Great Power? Things Fall Apart? Decline and Fall? I don't know but small things add up. You need some joie de vivre and the sports headlines should be providing comfort.

It was not a good 4th of July... No McEnroe, no Connors, no Agassi, no Sampras or Roddick, no Venus, no Serena, no Lindsay Davenport winning at Wimbledon. Instead a Swiss guy and a Spaniard are providing the excitement. And what about that tall Chinese woman who made the quarter finals and gave Clujsters the fits, Li Na? What about feet binding? The Chinese are coming...

Nathan's hot dog eating competition was won by Kobayashi again, a small Japanese guy out-ate red-blooded Americans. Hot dogs for God's sake.

If you watched the world cup on Independence Day you would have seen Italy against Germany (weren't they part of the original Axis of Evil back in the World War?).

The US team had been knocked out by Ghana, and it was the "Nigerian" player who bumped the guy and gave away the crucial penalty. Where is Ghana on the map again? And Ghana beat the Czechs, the number 2 team?

If you read the news, the front page of the New York Times showed a baby faced soldier in chains accused of rape and murder of a 15 year old girl and her family in Iraq, echoes of Abu Ghraib, erustication. He was wearing a black Johnny Cash shirt and looked vaguely gothic and troubled.

If you went to the movies you would have to make sure you didn't see An Inconvenient Truth, The Road to Guantanamo Bay or Army of Shadows as you got your Superman Returns tickets.

Things like that put a damper on the fireworks...

On the other hand, it is silly season, just a few bad apples. In other news, the Israelis are using American tanks to blow up Palestinian bridges and power stations...

Realpolitik

You'd have to talk about Italy winning with deadly efficiency. You'd also have to mention the corruption back home in their football league.

Sports is big business, the global brand.

You'd have to talk about Fifa and the International Olympic Commision, bureaucracies created by English and Frenchmen but now totally their own thing. Who was that Spaniard at the IOC with his corrupt ways?

You could talk about how tribal identities are forged when you watch sports.

Sports bind the US more even than religion since there is that Church/State separation business.

The Germans started buying flags once again since their team did so well this time.

Gamesmanship: Portugal's diving cynicism and the head butts in the Netherlands match.

Togo and Cote d'Ivoire have been on the brink of a civil war but were quiescent for the past few months since their teams made it to the cup. What will the future bring?

In Ghana there is considerable nationalism now based on the way the team played. We came to win and did well. The nation fully expected that the cup would come back with the boys. Ghana flags are flying everywhere these days. Will this feeling be capitalized on in the economic sphere?

Afterthoughts

Yannick Noah, the great French tennis player, was French when he won but was characteristically "of Cameroonian descent" when he lost. Similarly, the coverage of Zidane, and the urge to "understand" his actions, focuses on his Algerian immigrant upbringing. Wayne Rooney, who similarly lost his cool and shoved Ronaldo to be sent off must comes from the same immigrant school of hard knocks I suppose, as does Luis Figo whose head butt was unprovoked. Right?

Silvio Berlusconi's political career was supercharged by his ownership of a football club. How he would have loved to bask in the triumph of the Azzurris, the colour and slogan of his political party if he were still Prime Minister. Instead he was indicted for fraud days before the final.

I don't quite buy the argument that Americans only care about "their" sports (NFL, baseball, Nascar etc.) and will always remain indifferent to football and the World Cup. If there is one thing that America understands, it is attention and the impact of large numbers. Branding is the signal contribution America has made to the world. That is why there is a "World Series" in baseball even though much of the world doesn't play that game. Hence the excitement of a truly global game like football, one that literally is the lingua franca of the entire world, will permeate consciousness and attract participation. Soccer children will become the next generation's soccer moms and dads and will want to see their heroes make it on the global stage. Join the queue.

Wolves and Emperors

During the show, I tried to handwave a little about this notion of sports as a leading indicator, mixing my metaphors as is my custom, and I should explain what I was getting at. Poetically I started with the focus on small things like the current poor performance of the US in sports. Someone had brought up the Duke of Wellington in the conversation, but I rather harkened to The Boy Who Cried Wolf in that folktale as a leading indicator of perils that faced his community... To relate that to another folktale, the message in these leading indicators is often that The Emperor has no clothes. And I'd hazard that we are currently living in an imperial moment. The difference between the reception of the boy who cried wolf and the devastating impact of the boy who pointed out the emperor's hubris was that the words were said at a parade. Thus it is at social events or gatherings that we reflect on the zeitgeist and see things in their true light. Sporting events like our ceremonies and our public holidays are the grand events when communities come together. Politicians can't control the zeitgeist, nor can big businesses really control the human drama of sporting events. Still they can try, and I can recall Mr Bush delivering turkeys to the troops one recent Thanksgiving. I'm not so sure that there has been much comfort in this silly season of our discontent however. But perhaps one shouldn't make too much of these things.

In any case, head nods are due to my fellow panelists and to the Open Source crew who conjure up news feverishly every day, Chelsea, David, Brendan, Robin and the rest. The conversation continues apace.

File under: sports, football, world cup, soccer, Ghana, USA, media, radio, Open Source, globalization, commerce, tribes, empire, decline, Small Things, punditry, toli

Ghana vrs USA

Before

This happened to be on my living room table a few days ago. I'll reserve comment until after the Ghana USA match.

Our national anthem is playing. No more blogging...

Later

There is probably a parable to be made about a stick figure made out of spark plugs and improvised bent wire pointing a bow and arrow standing on top of Uncle Sam (a faceless Sam at that albeit with slick production values and glossy magazine accoutrements) but that would be reading far too much into an image...

[Ghana beat the USA 2-1]

Also, in case this was missed in the preceding posts, this was my mother's toli on the previous matches (To The Shout Of "Ghana", You Respond "Respect" and Firmly On The Map). She's heading our eight person family delegation to the World Cup.

The African Nation and The American Dream

I was going to save this photo for a piece I've been working on about immigrants and the diaspora but it seems strangely appropriate here. You can blame this juxtaposition on the journalistic impulse.

The American Dream!

"You've got big dreams, we've got the big money!"

The exclamation point is of typographical importance. This is an advert for a mortgage company on the back page of the March 2006 issue of The African Nation, a free monthly newspaper for immigrants in the US that is often found wherever there's an "ethnic" grocery shop. Published mostly by Nigerians and Camerounians in Silver Spring, Maryland, it features the typical optimism and entrepreneurial spirit of the most vigourous of our West African brethren. The newspaper is billed as

"A success guide for Smart African-Americans, West Indians & Africans in the diaspora".

In short, it's an all-inclusive and expansive production. I will return later to dispense a critique of some of the paper's content (the articles on Nollywood, Green Cards, Obasanjo, corruption, Sudan, Frantz Fanon, the latest society weddings in DC, the latest immigration news, advertisements for lawyers, disquisitions on where we can get authentic comfort food, travel agencies that claim to find the cheapest rate for you to head home etc.). It is worthy of some focused commentary.

The Color of Memory

I first watched the World Cup in 1978 during a trip my mum and I made to Senegal to visit some family friends. It was my first trip outside Ghana and my first time on a plane. My only memories are of the color red in the marketplaces, a vivid red that I haven't seen since, the shimmering cloths the Senegalese wore (they pay attention to their looks to an extent that puts most Ghanaians to shame), the excitement about the Dutch team who played the most beautiful game, and the disappointment at their fate at the hands of Argentina. We watched all the matches on black and white TVs except for the final, and therein lies my other memory: the orange of the Dutch team and their fans. I'm still gutted about that match.

I have been waiting ever since for my team to be at the World Cup. This is something deep inside of me.

And it has been a long wait. Watching my favourite teams disappoint time and again: the Brazilians in 82 (Zico and Socrates slain by a baby-faced assassin named Paolo Rossi), Platini, Tigana and co in 82 and 86 (there was that perfidious Schumacher guy), Hoddle, Waddle, John Barnes and the like (the Hand of God) (and wherefore Gazza and Shearer?), Roger Milla and Cameroon, Gullit and Rijkaard, Nigeria causing ulcers and palpitations to everyone, Senegal exhilarating the last time around... The teams that Abedi Pele and Tony Yeboah led in the 1990s were arguably more talented than our current heroes but they proved incapable of qualifying for the world cup. Thus we had only the memories of Polo and Razak, the legendary Black Stars of the past, glorious in the African Cup of Nations or, of late, our success at the junior level or at the Olympics.

It is a good day to be a Ghanaian, but it has been a long wait.

Identity and Allegiance

I recently calculated that I have now spent more time in Cambridge than anywhere else, what with the university years and the Lotus/IBM years. This beats my stints in Ghana, France or England. Thus I am quite the conflicted soul about who to support and am typically mid-Atlantic in my sensibilities. The Brits have the "cricket match test' to sort out the "good" immigrants from the chaff and I wonder where I lie and whether I'll pass. This is a very difficult test when it comes to football, and especially the World Cup, because any fan of the game (and I am a great football fan) will find some tribal aspect to latch onto in every team.

Until their last match, I thought Ecuador were the best team from Latin America; they were my pick for the tournament since they seemed more "ready" than Brazil or Argentina. They still might come through and I hope they do. Of course I've rooted for all the African teams and, even if the Ivoriens are out of the tournament with the label of the best team not to progress, I can still find favour in those who beat them. I apparently have Dutch ancestry and the good Captain John Vanderpuje (or Vanderpoy as we pronounce it in Ghana) was surely smiling as that free kick rocketed into the Ivorien net and also at the way Arjen Robben played in Holland's demolition of Serbia and Montenegro. When I mentioned my Dutch connection to a friend yesterday, he noted that my allegiance would likely depend on my family history. My reply was that in the mist of the centuries that have passed, it is unclear whether said ancestor was a benign adventurer or a rapacious colonist. Identity is identity and many tribes can claim me. I, in turn, claim all those tribes through victory and defeat.

Note well the use of the deflating passive tense in the headlines that followed in the US, it isn't David beats Goliath, or even Ghana Through... Brazil next, it's rather US eliminated by Ghana. The frame is typical of the big media companies and their prevailing script: the US were the actors, the Ghanaians were the sideshow. This of course would be news to anyone who watched the match, but such is the Great Game of life. How does the song go again?

They're all political actors... 'Don't worry'. He says 'Don't worry.'

The only team that leaves me cold in the tournament is Switzerland. I can't figure out the reason for this since they are just as talented as any of the other teams and play fluent European-style football. Whither neutrality? I was hoping Togo would beat them yesterday if only because of the amount of money Eyadema père had stashed in those well-run banks. But it wasn't to be, and such is life. Hopefully Eyadema fils will repatriate some of that loot to Togo. There is a startling statistic about the number of public schools constructed in Togo since independence (less than five in almost 50 years, if my memory serves me right). That is worth pondering at the same time as matters of elation are considered. But that's also for later toli... In any case South Korea might oblige tomorrow and deal with the Swiss tribe.

Hearts of Oak

The Wife called the following photo "working from home" for some reason. I was a little surprised. I didn't pretend to be working for those two glorious hours, and Big Blue couldn't have made me work at such a time. In reality there was no dilemma, there was only ecstasy.

I had dug up my Accra Hearts of Oak shirts since the World Cup is all about tribes and belonging. A good friend was good-natured enough to wear one even though his allegiances were more in line with Uncle Sam. There is no tribe more loyal than the "Phobians", the Hearts of Oak fans. Really. Truly. We dig deep. You Red Sox or Arsenal fans have nothing on us.

There's nothing like a football match to bring out the drama of life, and we see shattered dreams for some, and bite-sized triumphs for others. Michael Essien's second yellow card is the most painful thing he will endure in his life as he'll miss the choicest game we'll face, and it tempers the Ghanaian jubilation somewhat. My American friends might be hurting right now, but rather than devolving into recriminations (as it appeared would be the case judging by the later coverage on ESPN), this Phobian will suggest instead a transfer of allegiance to the Black Stars. I've been told that the latest hiplife rhyme back home is

Black Stars checked the Czechs and cleared the bush.

We play to a different drumbeat and with our own musicality. I'll conclude with the Hearts of Oak motto

Never say die until the bones are rotten.

Next step Brazil.

I nominate this note for the Things Fall Apart series, under the banner of Social Living.

Next: Friends Today, Enemies Tomorrow

See also: On IBM and Africa

File under: Ghana, USA, Africa, America, world cup, collage, art, serendipity, humour, sculpture, juxtaposition, competition, Strange Bedfellows, Things Fall Apart, Social Living, football, soccer, sports, fever, obsession, memory, ingenuity, identity, communities, fun, tribes, allegiance, Holland, funny, history, Cambridge, diaspora, immigrant, life, memory, family, humour, toli

Ecstasy = Ghana 2 - Czech Republic 0

We're not tourists... That's what I'm talking about. And it should have been 4-0 or more.

My uncle, who has never traveled outside Ghana in his life let alone been aboard a plane, managed to get a visa and ticket to attend the World Cup with the rest of the family. When he showed up at the airport for his long trip to Frankfurt, he was dressed in white from head to toe.

I know exactly what he meant.

Hotel Hi-jinks

[Update 2 hours later]: My family have somehow made it to the party at the team hotel. Pandemonium is the only word to describe what is going on there. I could barely hear them over the sounds of jubilation. I can't even imagine what the streets of Ghana are looking and sounding like. We are mindful of previous premature celebrations but for now it is only elation.

Wedding Toli

[Update a day later]: This is some toli I can't pass up even if it might cause a continued paternal boycott of this joint...

It was my cousin's wedding yesterday back in Ghana. For some reason, the ceremony had been scheduled at a time, 4:30pm, that overlapped somewhat with the football match. I'm assuming that things were set in place months ago, hence I'll reserve comment about foresight and the like. In any case, she and her groom were standing at the altar and the Reverend was delivering her encomium (in addition to her pastoral duties, the priest was a senior member of the Ghana Educational Service). All of a sudden there was a shout from the congregation. A text message had undoubtedly been delivered: Ghana had scored a goal. I believe it was the second goal, the one that put the result beyond any doubt; most of the guests had watched the great start of the match and had been in good spirits, if a little nervous, throughout the ceremony.

Hallelujahs then poured forth from the church seats and the Reverend began pronouncing all kinds of glories from the altar. There was singing and dancing in the aisles, alarming my father and uncle who are of the more sedate school of establishment propriety. With the priest's encouragement the congregation then went into joyous hymns. As my dad put it "they actually proceeded to sing two full choruses". My dad refused to clarify what praise song it was that was sung, or indeed whether the couple joined in, but you can imagine the commotion. After that celebratory interlude, the ceremony resumed and the couple was duly and quite properly married. As they left the church, the match had ended and the big party that Ghana embarked on last night began. I can't wait to see the video footage of their wedding, these ceremonies are so important in our traditions and we strive to bear witness even if football intrudes. Still, I now know that part of my wedding gift to them will be the DVD of the match that they missed but lived through.

I'm told the ensuing reception was wonderful.

Original Toli

It turns out that my mother has returned to her journalistic roots for the month at hand, and has been writing up her experiences as a Ghanaian fan attending the World Cup for the Ghanaian Times. The first of her dispatches has been posted online and the ones about the Czech game should be up shortly at the Times website. You can get a taste of the original toli monger with her World Cup Diary and see where I get my lines from.

• My World Cup (Part 1: Preparations and Part 2: The Italy Match)

  "GHANA", we shouted, "ITALIA" they shouted back, they were the most good humoured group of fans you had ever met.

• To The Shout Of "Ghana", You Respond "Respect" (Part 3)

  There was a determined Swede who appeared intent on making me strip so he could have my top. Fortunately for everybody and the horses that might have been frightened, I am no longer that brave, so I only gave away bandanas.

• Firmly On The Map (Part Four)

  It is the Czechs who are asking the most questions. Losing to Ghana had not been on their agenda, but now that they have lost, they are very keen to know who we are, and so are their friends.

Pandemonium

As is my custom, I'll offer a soundtrack:

The first track of The Time's great 1990 album Pandemonium is called Dreamland and that is where some 20 million Ghanaians are living right now.

The soulful and funky "Minneapolis Sound" wrought by the Purple One, Jam and Lewis, Morris Day, Jerome Benton and Jellybean Johnson sharply suits our purposes here.

As the former Gold Coast, we are quite partial to things that glitter, thus it is fitting that the Black Stars can rest tonight with a ballad titled Donald Trump (Black Version).

Ghana's greatest export being cocoa, it goes without saying that the first side ends with the aptly-titled Chocolate.

World Cup Croissant, Bacon and Eggs

I'll conclude with a look at how breakfast is served during the World Cup. There's been a slight adjustment to my previous setup after some suggestions from toli readers. A card table was manufactured from the basement and moved to the living room allowing hunger to be assuaged, a more comfortable desk arrangement for any computer activity, the use of my comfy office chair, and most importantly, satisfactory world cup viewing. The Wife seems strangely supportive of this business, bless her.

File under: world cup, football, Ghana, joy, ecstasy, sports, life, Africa, soccer, humour, wedding, soul, funk, The Time, toli

Dilemmas

The following case study came unbidden, and thoroughly disrupted my carefully arranged plans. I tend to accept these twists of fate these days. Thus I give you a diversion that I nominate as Part 10 of the Things Fall Apart series, another entry that falls under the banner of Social Living. Do let me know if it fits the bill.

An Examination Question

Date: Saturday June 10, 2006
Time: 8:55 am EST

Problem Statement

You are manager of Toli inc., a small but growing concern. The following situation presents itself to you. Discuss how you would resolve the various competing concerns. Provide enough detail to satisfy the reporting requirements of the Sarbanes-Oxley act in light of the corporate history of Enron and recent judicial verdicts.

Constraints

Hunger: You haven't had any breakfast although you woke up at 6 am on the dot as is your custom this time of the year. The reason for the delayed breakfast. Well...

Dying computer: Your desktop computer has been giving you fits for the past 3 hours as the power supply cuts out every five minutes as a result of being subjected to one too many lights out. More disaster recovery in prospect.

Laundry: There are at least 3 loads of laundry that need to be washed if you want to have something to wear this evening beyond tracksuits.

World Cup: the England vrs Paraguay match starts at 9am. 5 minutes.

French Open: the women's final starts at 9am. Or has it started already? Henin-Hardenne against Kuznetsova.

Day job: Need to check in the code that you promised the team this week. You want to be the Karl Malone of Lotus: "The Mail Man, I deliver". Prospects are dim.

Marriage: Desire for quality time with The Wife. 'Nuff said.

Groceries: Probably a good idea to do. See also: marriage.

Family: The mother-in-law is in town. You should see her sometime today. Also: need to do weekly phone calls to Ghana and all the cousins and friends. You remember that 8 members of the family are due to head to Germany today to support the Ghana team. You need to find out whether they got visas. Basically, catch up with people, talk football.

House: A mess. See also: mother-in-law.

Reading: you normally curl up with a book or three on weekends.

Futures: The Great Move West beckons, you have a month or so to finalize on the moving company, pack your apartment, and purge your possessions. Would be good to get a head start. See also: house and marriage.

Bills: The usual suspects need to addressed. Corollary: day job.

Preliminary Solution

Prioritize: football, laundry, house, mother-in-law, bills, reading, The Wife, day job, hunger (you'll work the rest out later).

Risks: marriage (justification: "in good times and bad"), day job (justification: well it is Saturday), tennis (life is like a box of chocolates), groceries (whatever), The Move (next week).

You're an engineer but technology can only help so much... You could use a Tivo, but even if you had the prescience to have bought one, it would only be good for pausing if you have to run out for a minute. With an event like the World Cup, you can hear the screams of people in nearby houses and in your building. Your upstairs neighbour, like you, is living every moment of the matches and your ceiling felt every half chance yesterday. Unlike that guy at the office who got his Tivo installed on Monday, you have procrastinated. You don't even have VHS tapes to record the games on your old vcr. Also your old TV doesn't have split screens. In any case, you don't like switching during football matches. Well maybe rolandgarros.com, there's an idea: laptop deals with tennis and day job in one stroke...

The immigrant workers outside your window have a radio blaring as they work, so they too are in the mix.

The Set-Up

1. The TV situation

Yesterday you started looking into the furniture business and adjusted the TV stand so that the angle is more amenable for long term viewing. Final is July 9th.

Within reach are two of The Wife's travel neck pillow things. They might come in handy since you are using your 10 year old bachelor futon: furniture from hell and source of chronic back pain and worse. Resolve: Burn it during The Move.

You have six pillows to fashion the futon into some semblance of comfort.

Remote control for switching back and forth with tennis. Check.

Sleep cloth, Dutch wax. Check. Good Ghana boy.

New cell phone. Check. No longer a high-tech Luddite.

Cordless phone for landline. Oops. Need to recharge it. Head to study.

Broom. Within sight.

2. The Laptop Configuration

You don't like to use laptop keyboards for extended periods, you normally use a full-sized keyboard and monitor on your desk in the study. This situation however calls for a laptop intervention.

You borrow The Wife's Cool Pad to prevent the scorching of the family jewels. The wireless access is all set... You decide you need to order one of your own pads. You open up a tab in the browser, search for "Cool Pad" at Amazon... open up another tab for Froogle "laptop accessories pad", another one for PriceScan

You get up to grab the laptop power cord from your study, you don't want to run on battery today.

3. Reading Material

1 copy of Friday's New York Times. You only buy the hard copy on Fridays and Sundays and don't have home delivery, it forces you to go to the convenience store to commiserate with that Persian guy about Dubya bombing his hometown two weeks before the upcoming November elections. Jesus wept. You bought said copy during the hour between games yesterday but have only read the front page... Remaining: the arts section, Krugman and that whole Zarqawi thing...

Kwasi Wiredu - Cultural Universals and Particulars, An African Perspective. Some philosophical reading for the theme for your Social Living series.

Madison Smartt Bell - The Stone that the Builder Refused. You've been carrying this novel around for two weeks and it's getting great. Haiti. Toussaint L'Ouverture. Napoleon. Revolution! Things fall apart.

All set for World Cup.

9:02am. Laundry. Quarters. Quick: downstairs. 5 minutes to go.

The Match

9:06am. Couch. Remote. TV. Okay.

American TV channels don't show the build up of the games unless the US is playing, the broadcasts start on the hour so you only get 7 minutes of pre-game commentary. There's barely enough time for analysis and you don't get to hear the national anthems unless the US is playing... And then there's the fact that if it's on ESPN there's that annoying ticker taking up the bottom of the screen. They are literally missing the big picture... Univision of course delivers on the comprehensive coverage but their image quality is worse and your Spanish? Well... ¿Se Habla Español? Well the game's on ABC today and they do full screen, so you'll try the English language commentary.

Sometimes you do want to hear the national anthems that the crowds sing, watch the players pretend to know the words, and soak in the tribal atmosphere. You've missed that today. Most Americans won't know what they are missing. Their country is becoming the Third World in the globalization sweepstakes, and some even seem proud about it... Well hopefully their team will do well in Germany and the underground football nation that I know lurks might manifest itself. Of course, I hope that Ghana will beat them handily, we need a little soul uplift.

Game on. Psyched.

Hmmm... the Paraguayan goalkeeper sustains an injury and has to leave the game.

The American commentator notes, "this is the second fastest substitution of a goalkeeper in World Cup history".

What the hell? You yell at the screen, "What does that have to do with the price of potatoes? This isn't baseball, football isn't a game of statistics."

Well anyway, experiment over. You promptly switch to Univision, they must be talking about things that matter. Anyway you'll need to know Spanish in Mexico, I mean California. (Justification: The Move).

It's a good game, England are looking great. Joe Cole terrorizing everyone, John Terry, Frank Lampard and Becks: the Axis of Solidity. Steven Gerrard, mon dieu. Peter Crouch: the hardest working man in the business... The whole team is shining and on the basis of this start, they could beat anyone. Meanwhile laptop on. Connect to Big Blue network, download latest build. Check rolandgarros.com.

Paraguay is keeping it close. Free kick. Beckham bends it...

"Gol! Gol! Gooooooooool".

Excitable announcer. Another one: "Goooooool".

Loud thumping overhead. A few shouts from neighbour. You shout. "Gooooooooooool".

Workers cheer from outside, must be Boston Irish or something.

"Here we go, here we go, here we go..."

Sounds of Wife stirring in bedroom...

"Gol! Gol! Gol!... Bravo. Goooool... Impressionante... Bravo... Gol... Mundialiasta... La pelota... Gol!..."

Remote. French Open briefly. Hmmm... Back to football. Start thinking about your glory days.

Laptop down. Pick up newspaper. Put down newspaper, match is too exciting.

Half time. Mexican adverts come on, skimpy dresses, rhumba dancing, eye-candy. Hmmm, you really need to learn Spanish... Still, remote: switch channel to French Open. Henin-Hardenne ahead. Whatever. Come on Kuznetwhatever. New York Times, now on page 4.

Oh! Laundry. Time to change the loads. Run downstairs.

Back upstairs. Hmmm. Hunger, food. Let's see...

Wife is up and about in the kitchen and looking grim... She's having breakfast but with that butter knife in hand, you need to tread carefully, you might get the macho treatment.

You try small talk and start muttering something lighthearted about the World Cup, widowhood and dilemmas... and begin to explain the various things on your plate, and talk about the match so far.

"You should eat", she says.

Good idea. More small talk... The food preparation business is not going too well, you turned on the kettle for the tea, but there was a noise on the TV, so you run there. False alarm, excitable commentator. You head back to pick up the toast. The broom is in your other hand. Start sweeping. Meanwhile more banter about glory days long gone...

You hear: "You're all over the place. You can't go on like this... not a bachelor anymore... A mess..." You nod your head and reach for the butter knife. Fridge. Marmalade. Milk.

The Wife is off in a huff (see also: evil eye). She comes back (avoids your eyes), grabs her laptop and heads for the bedroom.

Yesterday was your boycott day, it seems she's taken your message to heart and is boycotting you today.

Whatever. Justification: The Shankly Code (Shankly, Bill)

"Some people believe football is a matter of life and death. I'm very disappointed with that attitude. I can assure you it is much, much more important than that."

Second half is starting. There's the day job business. Food, laptop, cushions. Remote. Check French Open briefly. Switch. Watch.

10 minutes later, she shouts your name....

"What's up?", you yell between munches.

"I sent you an email".

Uh-oh. A deft multi-tasking effort now takes place.

• You put down the slice of buttered toast and marmalade and the bowl of Frosties (well Frosted Flakes in the US; the same Tony the Tiger, they're great!)
• You turn to the laptop, note that the build has long since finished downloading, start the install.
• Switch to Firefox and open up a new tab.
• You note that Peter Crouch just got a yellow card... Damn... England are looking like the most interesting team in the World Cup but yellow cards might be their downfall. Gerrard and now Crouch?
• You click on the Gmail icon in the browser toolbar.

You take a guess on the title of the email that should have shown up in your inbox:

Ultimatum.

Once again The Wife proves her fortitude and you read

From: The Wife
To: Koranteng@Toli

Subject: Fwd: The World Cup at the Enormous Room

Maybe you can see the match with some friends... Maybe I can meet their widows.

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: Soul Africa Bulletin
Subject: The World Cup at the Enormous Room
To: Boston Crew

Greetings,

The Enormous Room is hosting live Telecasts of the 2006 World Cup every day for the month of June. The 12 pm and 3pm games will be shown live. The 9am games will be recorded and played after the 3pm games. The bar will be open, but the kitchen will not open until 5:30pm. Feel free to bring some lunch.

see you there.

You smile. Great idea, the Africans in Boston are rallying... Commerce mixed with community. You could do that tomorrow and for the rest of the month, you vaguely hope they have Wi-fi so you could perch there during the work day. The World Cup is a 9 to 5 occupation for a month every four years, you wish you could get paid for it. Still there's no time today.

You fiddle around, back and forth between the Bloglines and delicious tabs, copying and pasting links and titles of things you remember reading yesterday.

You compose the reply in Gmail and hit the send button

From: Koranteng@toli
To: The Wife (Disgruntled and long-suffering)
Subject: Widowhood

Great idea...

See also from my internet friend Noel and his wife Elissa.

Avoiding World Cup Widowhood

Avoiding World Cup Widowhood -- a Guide for the Uninitiated (pdf)

Close game so far.

Cheers.

Back to the game... Paraguay getting close. What gives with England?

Day job: not much progress. New York Times: nope, too tense.

The game ends, England wins... A Google search about your nagging concern "World Cup 2006 yellow card policy first round", nothing obvious.

Ah yes, remote; you switch to the French Open... Henin-Hardenne wins the last point and throws her hands in the air 6-4, 6-4. She deserves it although you prefer Kuznetsova. Better luck next time.

What do you do next?

You head into bedroom to face recriminations.

They are blistering as expected... "In good times and bad". You're in a good mood so you continue with the small talk: lots of things that you're juggling today, talk about the match.

It's not working... Whatever. More football banter... Still not working... more football banter, reminisce about distant glories....

But then she softens for a moment at your evident enthusiasm and asks:

"When is the next match?"
"I don't know, I have to check."
"12pm".

One hour to go before the next match...

Arrggh! You forgot the laundry. You turn. Vague thought: you can't do the groceries in that time... after the next match maybe.

You gather up the towels and such for the next load... You would have washed the sheets too but you don't fancy your chances of survival if you try to remove them while The Wife is lying in them...

You rush down to get to the laundry before that other desperado you met at half-time gets there (you recognized the type, he's also doing laundry and watching the game).

Made it... Arggh! You don't have enough quarters... remember that inflation calypso you were singing six months ago... prescience huh?

You run back up to get some quarters, you almost trip on the narrow stairs.

You steady yourself... there's no need to rush, nice and slow. Quarters. Back down the stairs.

You nod your head at the guy who arrives as you put the quarters in...

"Good game."
"Yeah, England might well win the whole thing."
"Those yellow cards though. Do they carry over?"
"I don't think so. Google it."
"Will do. Again."

You start humming Jerusalem as you walk slowly back up the stairs, it's been on your mind recently

And did those feet in ancient times
Walk upon England's mountains green

You break out in full song as you open the door to the apartment.

"..pleasant pastures seen..."

Hold on, the Belgian national anthem is playing on the TV, the trophy is being awarded.

You settle down on the sofa and take up the cool pad and the laptop

".. builded Jerusalem..."

Kuznetsova is praising Henin-Hardenne. Justine looks as cool as Belgian beer and chips.

In England’s green and pleasant Land.

End of hymn. You need some more music... but the remote for the Rotel amplifier is out of reach, and the universal remote that you have doesn't control said Rotel amplifier, they said it was universal.

That Rotel remote is the worst remote you've ever had the misfortune to use, you remember that you were going to blog about its design flaws at some point. Laptop, you open up Notetab, open toli-ideas.txt and write this nugget down. Later.

So you do the next best thing, you start to sing the next hymm in the Boycott Hymnal: To Hunt the Wren

How will you kill him?
With sticks and stones

You have 54 minutes before the next game: Trinidad and Tobago against Sweden... Now you're talking, The T & Ts are the Dream Team in the World Cup, there's a shortage of Trinidad T-shirts. Like the Ghanaians, Togolese, Angolans and Ivoriens, they are in it for the first time...

Oh yes order the cool pad, it worked fine. Lets see... Where's that credit card?

Portugal will be playing Angola somewhere near the town of Marburg. You take pride in that you see things that others can't. You hum along:

Hatchets and cleavers
Honouring his bones

You decide to do the dishes. Ah yes, the kitchen. Then sweep. Then you'll run to the convenience store across the street to get some blank VHS tapes talk with the guy about his relatives in Tehran and their preparations.

The question is what do you do when you come back?

You've just read the answer.

See also Ecstasy

File under: life, whimsy, Small Things, football, world cup, tradeoffs, dilemma, decisions, obsession, fever, attention, A.D.D., community, relationships, modernity, multi-tasking, juggling, humour, internet, web, conversation, fun, soccer, organization, preparation, observation, funny, Things Fall Apart, Thought Process, toli Risks: Day job, perception. Next: Ghana vrs USA