The winning team: Be careful what you wish for

The winning team: Be careful what you wish for

Growing up in Czechoslovakia, now the Czech Republic, I played
soccer. Not very well, admittedly, but I played -- as did
everyone else.

After moving to New York, I lost touch with the world's most
popular sporting activity. But Indonesia, where I now work, made
sure of reminding me.

A flurry of text messages, such as "So which team are you
supporting?", suddenly began appearing on my mobile phone. At
first I thought it was a joke. That seemed the most likely
explanation before the presidential elections, with the threat of
victory by one of two former army generals, a result that some
fear could plunge this country back into the dark days.

But no! It soon became apparent that my friends were deadly
serious and the messages meant one thing only: Soccer!

At first, I affected to refuse to follow the games, attempting
to discuss local and world affairs instead, but that didn't make
me feel very popular. I was out of line and out of place, the odd
man out amid soccer fever.

I thus decided to adopt a "my team" strategy and settled upon
the seemingly most benign and insignificant, the Czech Republic,
certain losers in the company of such giants as the Netherlands,
France, Germany and England.

I was intrigued to find that some of the people of Indonesia
lined up behind their old colonizers -- the Dutch -- no matter
that the European country had plundered the resources of this
archipelago for centuries, leaving almost nothing in exchange.

The Czechs defeated Latvia and followed it up with a roaring
victory over the Dutch! Did I feel proud? You bet I did! I had no
idea why: I haven't lived there for 20 years, hold U.S.
citizenship and visit Prague once a year, at most. Not being
fully Czech by blood, my childhood there was close to miserable.

Then came that glorious game against Germany. In Bali, at
almost 4 a.m., I too was glued to the TV. My pulse was racing and
my consumption of coffee and cigarettes had rocketed. Everything
else paled in significance.

It looked like a war zone, an event of utmost importance
equivalent to the time when a Czech team played the Soviet Union
in a tension-filled ice hockey game after the 1968 invasion.
Forget about the fact that the Czechs had showed no serious
resistance to the Soviets before the invasion. Yes, forget about
history: this was much more glorious -- an epic soccer match --
11 heroes on each side chasing one ball, trying to propel it
between two vertical, and one horizontal, poles!

Then it was all over -- the Germans had lost 2-1. They were
"out", humiliated, beaten, defeated. The cameras showed several
German fans -- some crying, some with enormous pain engraved on
their faces.

A few days earlier, hardly any German voters had bothered to
vote in important EU elections, an indication the nation was
clearly dissatisfied and disillusioned with the political system.
Then, there was no sadness on German streets and on the faces of
ordinary people. Now there was!

Watching these epic battles until the wee hours, many
Indonesians maybe felt that their lives were now much better,
fuller and meaningful.

There are some minor "blemishes", of course, to spoil the fun.
Malaysian cities are choking from smoke coming from illegal
logging in Sumatra, the increasing social problems (street
childre, etc.), out of control corruption, not to mention there
is no opposition candidate willing to represent the miserable lot
of the silent majority of the people in the upcoming elections.

Still, all the anticipation will culminate on Sunday and
Monday when Euro 2004 and the presidential elections reach their
respective climaxes. Will the Portuguese make it on their home
soil? And will Indonesia go back to days of fear and darkness and
hopelessness? Together with millions of Indonesians, I will be
watching these momentous events to see what lies ahead.

-- Andre Vltchek