On Soccer

As the world revels in the ongoing soccer spectacle, the FIFA World Cup 2006, I will take some time to reminisince my very first World Cup experience.
It was in 1994, when I was 10, in Primary 3. My dad started watching , and I remember eagerly anticiapting every night as we would watch through the nights into the early morning. At that time, I found it very cool, not having to sleep at 10pm! In the beginning, I bsically enjoyed the process of staying up more than the football on TV.
Then came the Italy-Nigeria match. My dad supported Italy, and I followed suit, not knowing anyone on both teams. Nigeria led 1-0 all the way till the 89th minute, when a certain Roberto Baggio scored, and then scored again in injury time with a penalty to miraculously bring a lacklusture Italian side through. The next day, New Paper headlined 'Fly Roby Fly!' From then on, I looked forward to every Baggio match. And he duly scored in both the quarters and semis to bring Italy to Pasedena for the finals against Brazil. Such was the charisma of one player to lift the entire team that captivated me.
Even if you did not watch football then, you would know that Baggio would go on to miss his penalty in the shoot-out the hand Brazil the trophy. My parents had not woke me up for the match, I woke up myself just in time for the shoot-out, only to be heartbroken. I remeber blaming my parents the whole of the next day, as if I had watched Italy and Baggio would have won.
The world cup ended , but Roberto Baggio continued to be my only favourite soccer player, till this day. I saw in him the beauty of miracles and the tragedy of fate, and I think I learnt something : You can be destined for failure, but you can still dream of miracles. And in the end, even if you fail, at least the journey was not without beauty.