Faking It- guest writer ANDY GOLD
My girlfriend knows I’ve been faking it. Once was easy. Twice in an afternoon was more difficult but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings so I just about managed it. But I defy anyone to simulate passion convincingly four times in one evening.
The build up, the anticipation, has been fantastic. She picks out something for me to where - a retro number in her favourite colour. We enjoy some food to set the mood, and loosen up over a drink and picture the future but when it really matters we’re in completely different places.
Ronaldo’s equalizer against Japan has my girlfriend leaping around. She’s ecstatic and has plenty of yellow clad friends to share the moment with but my frozen reaction is noticed. Fortunately the ‘galera’ are gathered in a high-ceiled spacious lounge otherwise the plaster would be having head and fist shaped holes butted and punched out of it. Brazil add three more goals of high quality and each time I’m belatedly to be found applauding politely.
It’s been a progressive realization that I don’t want Brazil to win. Five days earlier I climbed, not leapt, to my feet as Adriano broke the deadlock with Australia. Later in the same game I produced an audible groan of disappointment when Harry Kewell failed to put away a golden chance into an empty net as the erratic Dida went woefully walkabout. I pretended afterwards it was a sigh of relief but no one was fooled.
Before the World Cup I had announced I would be getting behind Brazil unless they were playing my homeland England. I love Brazil, particularly the hospitality and warmth of the place I’ve made home, São Paulo but clearly with football, however inconveniently, the heart wants what it wants.
As an Englishman I’d normally be about as likely to get behind Australia as a Paulista is to say something complimentary about Rio de Janeiro. But with my rationale England hat on I know I want to see Brazil banished to the other half of the draw. No amount of affection for my adopted home actually appears to surpass the fact that I know seeing Brazil out of the tournament opens the way for England. Should I feel guilty about such north-European coldness?
My girlfriend has celebrated every England goal in this World Cup with warm genuine enthusiasm. Admittedly while she high jumps dangerously after each Brazilian goal, for England she only manages a smaller perhaps hurdle clearing leap. I am not entirely pleased by her enthusiasm however. My conclusion is that she does not feel Brazil’s hopes are the least bit threatened by England’s progress into the knockout stages.
Andy Gold is a journalist and writer living in São Paulo.
My girlfriend knows I’ve been faking it. Once was easy. Twice in an afternoon was more difficult but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings so I just about managed it. But I defy anyone to simulate passion convincingly four times in one evening.
The build up, the anticipation, has been fantastic. She picks out something for me to where - a retro number in her favourite colour. We enjoy some food to set the mood, and loosen up over a drink and picture the future but when it really matters we’re in completely different places.
Ronaldo’s equalizer against Japan has my girlfriend leaping around. She’s ecstatic and has plenty of yellow clad friends to share the moment with but my frozen reaction is noticed. Fortunately the ‘galera’ are gathered in a high-ceiled spacious lounge otherwise the plaster would be having head and fist shaped holes butted and punched out of it. Brazil add three more goals of high quality and each time I’m belatedly to be found applauding politely.
It’s been a progressive realization that I don’t want Brazil to win. Five days earlier I climbed, not leapt, to my feet as Adriano broke the deadlock with Australia. Later in the same game I produced an audible groan of disappointment when Harry Kewell failed to put away a golden chance into an empty net as the erratic Dida went woefully walkabout. I pretended afterwards it was a sigh of relief but no one was fooled.
Before the World Cup I had announced I would be getting behind Brazil unless they were playing my homeland England. I love Brazil, particularly the hospitality and warmth of the place I’ve made home, São Paulo but clearly with football, however inconveniently, the heart wants what it wants.
As an Englishman I’d normally be about as likely to get behind Australia as a Paulista is to say something complimentary about Rio de Janeiro. But with my rationale England hat on I know I want to see Brazil banished to the other half of the draw. No amount of affection for my adopted home actually appears to surpass the fact that I know seeing Brazil out of the tournament opens the way for England. Should I feel guilty about such north-European coldness?
My girlfriend has celebrated every England goal in this World Cup with warm genuine enthusiasm. Admittedly while she high jumps dangerously after each Brazilian goal, for England she only manages a smaller perhaps hurdle clearing leap. I am not entirely pleased by her enthusiasm however. My conclusion is that she does not feel Brazil’s hopes are the least bit threatened by England’s progress into the knockout stages.
Andy Gold is a journalist and writer living in São Paulo.
posted by Tim & Fabi @ 9:03 PM
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