Travel Blog

Friday afternoon I drove downtown to complain to Javier, the most soccer-crazed person I know, about Koman Coulibaly's incomprehensible disqualification of a U.S. goal. (The one that would have given us a victory over Slovenia.)

"Welcome to the world," Javier said casually. Of course, the U.S. is not the young Peruvian's team; Argentina is. And what he meant was: "Welcome to OUR world," i.e., that of the powerless forever at the mercy of a higher power. This tournament, I began to see, is the U.S.A.'s introduction to a world in which somebody else calls the shots.

Still, that didn't explain Coulibaly's whistle. I've watched the replay dozens of times and the only explanation I can think of is that the referee from Mali was objecting to the ridiculous attire of the American fans. Dressing in costume is not really an American sporting tradition, and the Yanks in South Africa who are trying to get in the spirit are failing miserably. Witness the slovenly Uncle Sams. The best costumes I've seen appeared yesterday during the Italy-New Zealand match, when some of the Kiwi fans dressed as - you guessed it - kiwis.