The Cup Of Life

It's the World Cup frenzy all over again. Wherever you go in Jeddah, you will see throngs of young men and boys with faces painted green and white to show support for the Saudi team. Family recreation centers are packed full of avid football fans; watching the games on the huge screens set up especially for the Series.

I'm not much of a soccer fan myself. What does soccer mean to me? Let's see:

* Ricky Martin singing The Cup Of Life [Ole! Ole! Ole!] years ago.
* University days, when I, along with an equally clueless girlfriend, would watch The Hot Soccer Players at the Sunken Garden while they stretch and warm up.
* The heavily moisturized, manicured, facial-ed, quasi-gay David Beckham.
* A bunch of testosterone-laden blokes running around a huge field.
* Jeddah's black-and-yellow Ittihad Football Club and their catchy theme song.

Last week, Majed attempted to explain to me how the game works. Not surprisingly enough, 20 minutes into the "lesson", I was still clueless. Red cards, yellow cards, technical fouls, kickoffs, whathaveyous. I could only care about that singular hot-hot-hottie with the long hair and muscular legs. I don't even remember what team he played for.

Nevertheless, my friends and I are going to watch the next Saudi game against Ukraine, and hopefully, I can pretend to be interested long enough to scream enthusiastically when our team scores. I have to admit, the festive air is infectious.

I hope Saudi wins, if only to experience once again the chaos on the streets as the "shabab" run around the streets honking their honks and tonking their tonks ecstatically. I haven't seen that in years.