Saturday, June 10, 2006

The Sports Writing We Deserve

Maria Vargas Llosa, writing in 1982, prior to a match between Brazil and the Soviet Union.

The football pitch is a vast pubic patch, covered with an inciting greenish furriness. A goal is like an orgasm, by which a player, a team, a stadium, a country, all of humanity suddenly discharges its vital energy. If each country plays football according to it sexual idiosyncracies, then the Brazilian is unhurried and titillating, he caresses the ball tenderly before kicking it, it is difficult for him to separate himself from it, and instead of putting the ball in the goal, he prefers to put himself into the goal with the ball.

Is that fabulous, or what? And why O why do we Canadians have to put up with Jack Todd and John Doyle?

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