Full disclosure: I don’t “understand” soccer. Cuz it’s complicated and also microbiology mixed with aerospace engineering.
My husband matter-of-factly referred to soccer/futbol/football as a gentleman’s sport. I don’t remember exactly what words I used to respond but I seem to remember a loud ringing in my ear and possibly some steam escaping from the same place.
And I know you’re all mad and stabby right now because I’m an idiot. But seriously. All else aside, watching grown men roll around on the ground, hold their faces when nothing came remotely close to them, perform the most shameful theatrics – which, by the way, would be less offensive if this were a sport that attempted in any way shape or form to protect its integrity. No instant replay – despite the fact that we at home get to see it again and again and hear the commentators confirm how outlandish this is; no way to review what a ref has decided and little chance in appeal?! Shine up that monocle. Hey, what if you’re losing, all chance of a win or draw are gone and you’re petulant and bitter? Oh, you can take advantage of these huge flaws and basically sabotage a team by getting someone an undeserved red card, apparently.
“Oh, but that doesn’t happen and also football is the greatest sport in the world and also you just don’t get it because you have the wrong reproductive system and plus there are many delicate intricacies that PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT.”