24 Memories

The World Cup is about memories. But not the obvious ones of who scored how many goals or what players or nations were discovered. Its not about stadiums filled with fans and the television replays that make legends of one-time goal scorers. It runs deeper then that. Back to childhood and infant dreams, when the game itself was the memory we all longed for. Where cheering our nation or allies rallied entire populations together for the good of seeing a little round ball kicked into an opponents goal.

The World Cup is about the circularity of life within 120 minutes that shows you your entire existence and its beautiful opposite within seconds of each other. The high can quickly be followed by a limping low. Glory is usually hindered by flaw. The euphoria of the moment will never last as long as the disappointment you can just as easily feel. Yet we gravitate towards it. The game itself creates illusions that eleven men are in control of their fate; that is the folly of this game--the illusions of control that cause so many greats to fall and those lesser to aspire to new heights. The beauty itself is that every four years the World Cup creates new memories for young and old alike.

But ultimately the World Cup is about yourself. Your recollections and dreams and disappointments, poignantly kept in a neat little calendar that only seems to recount four weeks of madness every four years. It is about an older man looking at himself in the mirror and not seeing 24 years past since Italy's last World Cup, but rather 6 tournaments and three continents of tears and disappointments. It is about a boy waking up on a beautiful sunny day in July 1982 to see his team win the World Cup and wait what felt like an eternity to win it again. It is about an older man wondering where that young boy has gone only to become that young boy again on another beautiful July day in 2006 and watch his country hoist the cup again. From both the child in me and the adult that I have become, thank you again to the Azzurri for having given me this wonderful memory to seek out again.

Azzurri Dreams