Cup Size

So, does anyone remember a time when I used to blog about things besides Germans? Nope? Me neither.

So, if you didn't know that today began the German-hosted World Cup, your insular America-centric focus is impressive and I salute you, but back to my life. For a couple of weeks now, the Germans in my office have been trying to figure out how they were going to watch the World Cup games inspite of the fact that the kick-off game today was played at 12:00pm New York time, a time in our office when we are traditionally, you know, working. In fact I had a conversation with G7 last month that went like this:

Cupcake: So how is G8 doing? Is she excited to come to New York next month? She's never been to America before? Is she nervous?
G7: No, she is not nervous, but she has angst because she does not know how she can see the World Cup games.
Cupcake: Huh.

So, the Germans have been enlisting my help in this endeavor. At lunch a few days ago they asked me how I thought it would go if they asked the Boss if they could take some time off today to go to a pub to watch Germany play Costa Rica. "Well, ...." I said. Then one of my new Germans said in English, "Well, maybe we don't want to play our Joker now in case Germany goes on to play later."

"Well," said Der Man "what if they get lose the first game? Then it won't matter at all" (typical German optimism). In the end, no one was quite sure when to "play the Joker". The truth is, I was having difficulty coming up with solutions to this problem because when it comes to the World Cup, es ist totale mir egal. I really don't care.

Der Trupp decided that they would go to an Irish Pub today at 1:15pm for thier lunch break so they could watch at least the second half of the Germany game on the bar's televisions. I was invited along and I eagerly accepted, not least of all because if an altercation broke out between some Costa Rican fans and my co-workers, I wanted to be there to see it. But when the time came to go out this afternoon, I was way too wrapped up in something at work so I said "I'll meet you there."

Twenty minutes later I walked into the pub which was quite packed and scanned the room for my Germans until I saw them, scrunched up against one side of the table to stare with rapt attention at the many tv screens. The score was 3-1. "Oh good," I said. "Germany is winning." Then I asked, "So what color uniform is Germany?" They almost choked on their burgers. "They're playing Costa Rica!" said one. "Just look at the color of the men and you can figure it out."

"Don't get smart," I said. "Just tell me if Germany is white or red."

"We are very happy that when Germany scored a goal, we were not the only ones cheering," said Der Man. I have since come to believe that the other patrons were not cheering Germany so much as groaning in agony to see a goal against Costa Rica.

Basically, this is what happened while I was in the bar. Costa Rica scored a goal. People cheered. My Germans were disappointed. Not only had Costa Rica scored a goal agains them, but they just shook their heads and said in German, I think, "all these nice people, why they no root for Germany? Costa Rica? Bah." They were agitated, so I was happy to let them speak German. Also, you may remember, I don't actually care that much. Then Germany scored a goal. A few people cheered. My team clapped their hands, clearly very excited, but in that reserved kind of German way. Although, I think if they had been home in Muenster and Bochum and Worms and were hanging out in their apartments and watching the game with friends, there would have been much beer sloshing and possibly even high-fives.

Germany won the match 4-2. I was happy for them. Good on you, Deutschland. Then I asked, "So who do you think will win the World Cup?"

"Germany," said G8, in a way that suggested she was leaving the "duh" off this response.

"No," I said, thinking it was a question of translation, "Who do you think will win, not who do you want to win?" This question did not do me any favors with my new posse.