Saturday, November 28, 2009

A VIRGIN AND A FOOTBALLER: How America's Top Saver "discovered" France's Top Scorer

Taken from my memoir--A Million Big Pieces (aaaah, just kidding) This isn't a memoir; this is a true story!


Who scored? I didn't know. Who scored. I didn't care.The team wearing the yellow shirts, like the yellow shirt I was wearing didn't score and they didn't win.And somewhere between saying bye to my co-Fellow Matt Saldana and a bathroom stall insideof Chicago's ESPN Zone, I lost it.I looked in the mirror and couldn't believe that I cared--this much. It was one goal. And that Southern woman, the one who was visiting me from 400 miles away, had cheered the goal.
It had been that kind of year, God knew I needed a drink--but instead of a bottle. He gave me a World Cup.
In the spring of 2006 I stood on a Brooklyn St. wondering what in the world was going on. I just kept repeating to my mother, "I was robbed! I was robbed!" I was robbed.
Whoever said big girls don't cry should've met me that night. I'd been robbed before--but as a writer, you've got to wonder what the universe is saying when the robbery takes only your computers--my second laptop in less
than three years--in less than 30 seconds was Audi5000. And for the next week I just kind of sat...thinking that I would never write again. Perhaps writing
wasn't my purpose?Then I got a phone call. Was it the police saying they'd recovered the computer? No--it was a man saying I'd been selected out of 400 applicants for a
journalism fellowship. Yup, just when the caterpillar thought it was over it became a butterfly.
So I returned to my hometown, cocooned myself in my mother's covers, ate her oatmeal and woke up early to talk to her--just like when I was a kid. And just like when I was a kid I awoke and immediatley put the TV on Sportscenter. On a completely
random note, allow me to send love to Stuart Scott for just being the best sportscaster ever.One morning as my mom applied her makeup I applied my attention to the TV--RACISM IN EUROPEAN SOCCER...with the World Cup less than...I can still hear that
man so clearly...But the man that to this day I can't get out of my head--the guy who had me at "Even if it is one person in the stadium it is one person too
many..." is Thierry Henry.


"Mom--that's your future son-in-law." I said. "I'm marrying that one!"But fast forward--somewhere between "your future son-in-law..." my new laptop Googling Thierry Henry's bio and reading that he was married [gasp], I
developed amnesia."Oh, well, you can't have everything." And with that statement I clicked off Google and erased Thierry Henry from my memory. Because I didn't even know he
was the one that made me cry, he was the one who scored that goal sending Brazil home in the Word Cup Semi-Finals.
So I "discovered" and forgot him in 2006. Soccer, which for the sake of my American readers, I keep writing although I call it football, for almost 10 years meant only one thing to me: Brazil. I owe
a great deal of gratitude to a pen-pal in Singapore for knowing any of this. Remember, I'm just a little black girl from Tennessee. But my pen-pal, Lenny,
was riding the Ronaldo wave back in 98 and I was just enjoying her excitement and in trying to discover what it was all about I found out that I enjoyed this
soccer stuff too. And today when people talk about soccer and I talk Thierry, they all say "Oh Arsenal...this and that." And I never [gasp]--have any clue
what they're talking about. I never saw him play with Arsenal...because I didn't. Nope I never saw Arsenal-Henry but I did pray for Barca-Henry--when he developed the back problem and was out--I was scared. Don't ask I still don't know why
So how did Thierry Henry become my favorite player?This happened somewhere between ESPN and EBAY.For all my years of football-fascination I only had one soccer jersey--Robinho. So I decided to get another. Ronaldinho. But then I spotted this Eto'o STAND
UP SPEAK UP jersey on Ebay? And I was fascinated with the name and the look of the jersey so I bought it. Can you say Eto'o? I couldn't.I bought it before I even knew how to say it. Of course feeling like a trader I would then go on to buy KAKA. Deciding that soccer once every four years wasn't enough I decided to become a club
supporter. And yes, I chose FC Barcelona--home of Ronaldinho. So I did what any new club supporter would do. I Googled the team to learn players whose last name's didn't end with O...You know--true fan things and mymy
first FC BARCELONA GOOGLE returned big news--Barca was getting a new player. Thierry Henry had joined the team.Aaaaaaaaghhhhh! And guess what--he was no longer married--[gasp]...Aaaaaaaaagh! Let me stop. Seriously I forced myself to stop. I was so excited that I had
to turn off the computer. I refused to be excited about a divorce. But then I turned the computer back on and went straight to EBAY. I needed a new jersey.
And now two years later I own one Kaka jersey, one Eto'o jersey and three Henry jerseys. The last time I saw my Brazil jersey was at my birthday party at,
you guessed it, ESPN ZONE in Times Square. I refuse to think that it was stolen--but I do seem to be predisposed.
Turn that six upside down and now it's 2009. I am sitting in my favorite leather recliner at ESPN ZONE in Times Square surrounded by a sea of Barcelona
fans. And I fit in. My shirt is yellow. But this time the B's for Barcelona not Brazil. Ole Ole Ole Ole, it's official: I'm a Barcaaaaaaaa-fan!!I took off work for this. But back to this ESPN Zone and these cheese fries--I'm eating cheese fries-- a complete change from quinoa. Note to self:change tastes soooo good. I'm going
to finish writing this after the game. [GAME OVER]BARCA WON!!!!!!!And I can't fight back the excitement. I am hype. The people behind me are hyper. They had liquor. I had tea. And now I have to pee and pay and practically run non-stop to the A Train in order to get to work on time. I can only miss one job. And job #3 begins in 40
minutes.And well, I could say this is how the story ends but honestly, as I try to wiggle my pants down (too much tea) and keep my eyes on the screen above (ESPN
ZONE lavatories have TVs) I...well, again,Whoever said BIG GIRLS DON'T CRY lied. However, this is definetly a change from 2006 except the same man has made
me cry-- Monseiur Henry."Aaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!!!!!!!!!!!!" The tears are streaming down my eyes I'm working hard at keeping them from trickling down my legs--I can't pee just yet. I have to stand for this man who's
in Rome standing with that big silver cup atop his head. My phone rings (the Southern woman from Tennessee is calling)."Mom," I say, "Your future son-in-law just won the UEFA Cup, but I'll call you back when I get to work!"


"Where are you now," she says.


I'm in the bathroom :)



--superVirgin