The Buzz on the Street

I am no sports fanatic but I do enjoy sitting down to watch the odd football/soccer match every now and then. It's not often that I get the urge to watch two teams of men crazily run across a stadium field chasing and directing a ball without the use of their hands, but it does happen. When the FIFA World Cup arrives every four years, I tell myself "oh, why not" and maintain my behind stationary for the full ninety minutes on the couch.



FIFA 2010 is a different story.




Thanks to the thousands of Vuvuzelas the fans unwittingly blow, the matches are inundated by an incessant droning, buzzing sound. To say that the noise annoys me would be an understatement. It totally turns me off from watching the game. Spain and Switzerland can keep fighting it out on that field; I can't tolerate the racket for any more than five minutes.


Don't get me wrong. Every host country has the right to choose the trinket they would like to represent the honor of having been chosen, but didn't SOMEONE realize and say "hey, guys, this may not be such a good idea afterall?" Obviously not: the plastic trumpets made their way into the hands of FIFA fanatics.


I suppose that, being a spectator at home, I could simply place the volume on mute or wear earplugs to block the sound, but I like to experience the game with the clamor. I like the shouts, the cheering. I like hearing the way fans rejoice when a goal is scored. I just don't like having the impression that angered hornets have swarmed into the stadium. For ninety full minutes. Watching the game on mute is simply not the same.


I feel sorry for the players. They have to concentrate on the game and the tactics they need to execute. I assume that they are already used to playing with their fans' joyful yelling in the background. Having to adjust to the Vuvuzelas must be a completely different kettle of fish.

Perhaps if I actually made the effort to focus on solely the passion of the two teams, the Vuvuzelas would fade and I could make it through the whole ninety minutes.

But I need to head out to the bank. I need to cash a check.

Barb the French Bean