Busted at the World Cup

I love soccer - really! Like hockey and rugby, it's more about what happens between the goalposts than the run-up scores when the Brady Bunch humiliates the Bills. And the World Cup provides the best of the best in the world of soccer (football as the rest of the world refers to it).

So I was a little more than interested in the US Women's team road to the finals, and perhaps a little over confident when the final itself was versus Japan to whom they had never lost. It was a heartthrobber of a game, tied in the last few minutes by Japan to push it to overtime and then with only two minutes in overtime, tied again by Japan to force a shoot out. But I am not a sports writer; I am a man. and that is where I have to confess to something - I (along with most of the male sports fans who have ever seen a women's soccer match) am secretly in love with Hope Solo. Oh, she's good - really good! Her states are amazing and almost read like Tim Thomas of the Bruins. But Sunday's shootout was - well - not so great.

She was even gracious in defeat - she said she was "happy for Japan - they deserved it." You can't really get mad or feel upset at that, can you? But, here's the thing that seems obvious to me. I can't really get upset because I am still, after all my training and all these years, a sexist pig. I cut her slack because she is drop-dead gorgeous, powerful, agile and has a stunning smile. I don't do that with Brady - I don't care if he and Giselle play kissy-face in front of the cameras or if he models for Stetson cologne - he's a QB and that's is what he's paid for and why I am a fan. And he messes up some days - and I'm pissed.

Busted!

I am not pissed at Hope Solo. Maybe it's because I never played soccer competitively. Maybe it's because it's not really my home team. But most likely it's just because I am still a sexist. Damn it all - will I never get better?