I might have spared soccer if the vuvuzela had not made its groaning, whining, buzzing entry into our everyday vocabulary. But this definitely has to be the final aural straw that cracked the philosopher’s back. The demise of the armchair dreamer is not at all linked to the lowered qualities of the armchair as is often mistakenly assumed. The global dumbing down, and the near extinction of the lazy thinker is directly and fatally linked to the rise of soccer – and not the sagging of the Chesterfield.
The freest thinkers operated at a time when the boys had open fields for a carefree kick about on the way home from school. The thinker would finish an early lunch and stroll down from the pub often nudging the errant ball back to the lads at play – the ascent of humanity and the beautiful game progressing on parallel paths on the same plane – fields of thought and play punctuated by wide greens, streams and open skies. The club sides and talent hunters changed all that. Commerce made an entry, sadly, and the Jambulani spun off on an errant trajectory.
In psychology and economics, as in many streams of science, thought developed as thinkers of diverse nationalities strolled together across the fields of Oxford, Sorbonne or the Karl Franzens University. Ideas developed through global co nurturing – but could Austrian, Swiss, German or Japanese scientists collaborate on an intellectual level even as their soccer teams were facing off at shoot outs at Wembley, Westfalenstadion or Camp Nou. Perish the thought!
The thinkers now would much rather congregate at their local tavern huddled along nationalistic lines discussing off side scenarios rather than collaboratively address issues of wealth redistribution or behavioural disorders. And if ever you were confused about the distinction between death knells and nails on a coffin along came bottled beer and the televised game.
The game is supposed to be 90 minutes long with a leisurely break for warm ale, biscuits and smoking tobacco leaving twenty two and a half hours a day for intellectual pursuit. This duration is also useful for discussing farming techniques and the village blacksmith’s amorous pursuit the ironmonger’s ex-wife. Look at a soccer aficionado’s life today – accumulate blunt metal instrument and wooden mallet, wear team jersey, drink beer, meet mates, sing team songs, gather at pub, drink more beer, pre match analysis, beer, game, post match analysis, beer, beat up rival fans, beer, regurgitate, coma…you get the picture? By the time you recover 36 hours hence it’s time for your team to play again. Bury discussion and burn debate!
The thinker was now left with 90 minutes a day to think global poverty, do the laundry and balance the household budget – and this, I assure you, is still within the realm of possibility. But the journey of the beautiful game has finally met the regressive whine of the vuvuzela making all thought a white noise - and converted the game, in acoustical terms, into the mass fornication of a steroidal genus apis [honey bee to you, soccer hooligan]. I demand a penalty!
The freest thinkers operated at a time when the boys had open fields for a carefree kick about on the way home from school. The thinker would finish an early lunch and stroll down from the pub often nudging the errant ball back to the lads at play – the ascent of humanity and the beautiful game progressing on parallel paths on the same plane – fields of thought and play punctuated by wide greens, streams and open skies. The club sides and talent hunters changed all that. Commerce made an entry, sadly, and the Jambulani spun off on an errant trajectory.
In psychology and economics, as in many streams of science, thought developed as thinkers of diverse nationalities strolled together across the fields of Oxford, Sorbonne or the Karl Franzens University. Ideas developed through global co nurturing – but could Austrian, Swiss, German or Japanese scientists collaborate on an intellectual level even as their soccer teams were facing off at shoot outs at Wembley, Westfalenstadion or Camp Nou. Perish the thought!
The thinkers now would much rather congregate at their local tavern huddled along nationalistic lines discussing off side scenarios rather than collaboratively address issues of wealth redistribution or behavioural disorders. And if ever you were confused about the distinction between death knells and nails on a coffin along came bottled beer and the televised game.
The game is supposed to be 90 minutes long with a leisurely break for warm ale, biscuits and smoking tobacco leaving twenty two and a half hours a day for intellectual pursuit. This duration is also useful for discussing farming techniques and the village blacksmith’s amorous pursuit the ironmonger’s ex-wife. Look at a soccer aficionado’s life today – accumulate blunt metal instrument and wooden mallet, wear team jersey, drink beer, meet mates, sing team songs, gather at pub, drink more beer, pre match analysis, beer, game, post match analysis, beer, beat up rival fans, beer, regurgitate, coma…you get the picture? By the time you recover 36 hours hence it’s time for your team to play again. Bury discussion and burn debate!
The thinker was now left with 90 minutes a day to think global poverty, do the laundry and balance the household budget – and this, I assure you, is still within the realm of possibility. But the journey of the beautiful game has finally met the regressive whine of the vuvuzela making all thought a white noise - and converted the game, in acoustical terms, into the mass fornication of a steroidal genus apis [honey bee to you, soccer hooligan]. I demand a penalty!
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