US Loses

On Saturday the U.S. national team lost in the World Cup. It was a good game and Ghana deserves to be proud. They played well.

I was in Essaouira, on the Moroccan coast, for a festival of traditional Moroccan music called Gnawa.

We found a place in a restaurant overlooking the beach. A group of Americans, who it turned out later were all Fulbright scholars doing research in Morocco, sat in front of us. To our side a group of three Moroccans rooted mercilessly for Ghana.

We argued about a few calls. Sometimes we agreed on how bad the refs were, but it was mostly antagonistic.

When the result became clear, I stood up and shook their hands. I told them Ghana played well and deserved to win. I wished the last remaining African team the best of luck in this African World Cup. Then we paid and left the restaurant.

I didn't want to be an ugly American.

As we headed out to the next Gnawa concert, I received a text message from my Arabic tutor.

It read, "What i really like in the American team is that it keeps playing till the last second of the match even if they are defeat with 10! they never waiver."

The Best Day

Early in the game, after Algeria's first scoring opportunity, it became clear just how alone our American table was. A low rumble of enthusiasm from the crowd of Moroccan men surrounding us crescendoed into cries of hope, and then died into scattered bursts of vocal disgust. And then emerging from those bursts came the counterpoint of supportive applause from our table.

When the U.S. attacked, the mini-symphony reversed itself.

And it continued like that the entire game.

When the Clint Dempsey goal in the first half was disallowed for a suspect offsides (AGAIN!!!), only the volume of this community musical changed.

However, when Landon Donovan put home the winner in the 91st minute, the repetitive motif of the past two hours was superseded by ecstatic shouts of joy, high-fives, and straight-up hollering.

Two minutes later when this climax had still not subsided, the cafe owner (who knows me) motioned, with a shake and a grin, for me to sit down and quiet down.

The last 24 hours have been by far the best here in Morocco.

Everywhere I go people come out to congratulate me. It's as though I recently got married or had my first child or won a special award. The usual greetings from the Moroccans who work along my street have turned into celebratory hails. My nation's soccer team won an amazing game in amazing fashion. And in the process they extended their stay in the greatest tournament in the world. People respect that here.

One of the waiters in my favorite cafe told me today that since the U.S. had won, I should buy him a gift. I told him that when the U.S. wins the entire World Cup, I would buy everyone a gift.

In retrospect maybe that's something I shouldn't have said.

The Moment of Truth

After days of consistent jibes from Moroccans, after countless discussions about Moroccan support of Algeria, after dozens of requests to watch the game...the moment is here.

In a few minutes we will leave to watch the Algeria-US game. If Algeria, a Muslim and Arab nation like Morocco, wins, my life will change here. Walking into all the cafes and restaurants that I frequent will not be the same. I will be the object of ridicule.

If America beats Morocco's neighbor, then Moroccans will treat me with more respect. I will be able to show my face in public. I will strut the streets with pride.

My arguments to support America have fallen on deaf ears. Moroccans say they share blood with Algerians. I point out that Moroccan blood has been spilled in Western Sahara because of Algerian arms and money. They don't care. When it comes to politics and military issues vs. blood and religion, you can guess which issues are more important.

Now I leave to watch the game surrounded by a handful of ex-pats. The chips will fall where they may. And I will bear the consequences.

World Cup: First American Game

It appears as though I've caught the fever.

Despite my earlier protestations, I have watched 9 of the first 11 matches of the World Cup.

I knew more about soccer than the average American beforehand, but watching so many games all at once has definitely given me an excellent perspective to better understand the game. The best performance so far was clearly Germany's destruction of the Australian side on Sunday night. German efficiency in soccer, paralleling their efficiency in industry, is often described with the word "machine" in conversations here. Their passing and control were phenomenal. Right now, the consensus seems to be they are the team to beat.

The worst matches so far were likely the scoreless Uruguay-France matchup or the sloppy Algeria-Slovenia one.

Though, my favorite match by far was the American draw against an excellent England squad. Daniel, Chelsea and I headed to a local bar to watch it. The bar was mostly empty as Moroccans generally use cafes to watch sports games and bars to find prostitutes. A couple from Reno, Nevada on their honeymoon trip through Morocco sat behind us, but otherwise there was only a smattering of Moroccan men in suits only mildly interested in the game.

I walked in three minutes late coming from church. One minute later, Gerrard scored England's only goal, and Daniel told me to leave the bar. Fortunately, we discovered over the course of the match that my arrival had no causative effect on England's goal. I watched the rest of the game and England didn't score again.

When Clint Dempsey scored his goal, Daniel started jumping around and screaming his excitement. The couple from Nevada just laughed, but the prostitute sitting near him got so scared she almost left her seat. All in all, it was a great game. Both sides played well and mounted good attacks. Both goalkeepers had excellent saves. There were no stupid mistakes that plagued Algeria's side.

This is only the fifth day. We're only 12 matches in. It's going to be an exciting month!

Kas al-3alam

Today begins the month-long march to World Cup glory. Here they refer to the tournament that provides that glory as the "Kas al-3alam" (literally, "Cup of the World") or the "Mondial".

Unfortunately, Morocco did not make the tournament, but Moroccans will still be watching a number of games, particularly those of Spain, Portugal, Argentina, and Algeria. Spain because Moroccans' preferred soccer league is the Spanish one. Portugal because Real Madrid star Ronaldo is Portuguese. Argentina because Barcelona star Lionel Messi is Argentine. And Algeria because it's a neighbor and the only Arab team in the tournament. (Moroccans assure me the two nations really have a lot in common even if they have a closed border and have been in conflict for decades because of the Western Sahara question.)

Currently we have two couchsurfers here, one of whom is from Brazil. Like my roommate Daniel, he wants to watch all 64 games of the World Cup. When this came up in conversation, I told them that I would like to conduct my life in peace for the next month and not have it held hostage by a soccer schedule.

Daniel responded, "But you might miss THE GOAL of the tournament. And then how would you feel?"

I didn't respond. Honestly, I'm not sure that I would be that torn up about it.


The first match starts at 3 PM Moroccan time. If nothing else, I will be in a cafe watching South Africa and Mexico go at it. And then tomorrow night, I will resume my seat to watch the epic struggle between England and the United States. After that, I'm not making any promises.

Catching a Game

My roommate Daniel is a huge soccer fan. He played in high school and college, and since then he has found it very useful for developing relationships in his time abroad in Brazil, Vietnam and France.

My experience has been similar. When I learned how to talk soccer, door after door began to be opened. I can't claim to be nearly as talented as Daniel or to possess his knowledge of the sport, but the desire is there.

So, last night, I readily consented when Daniel asked if I wanted to go to a cafe to watch the Barcelona - Zaragoza match on TV. We set out intending to look far and wide to find a cafe showing the game, but we didn't have to go any farther than the cafe on the corner of our street. In Morocco, the biggest soccer game of the year is the Real Madrid - Barcelona game, and almost every adult male is a rabid supporter of one of the two clubs. So most cafes show all the regular season games on their big screens.

I found the coverage of the game quite interesting. The commentary here is generally in Fusha, the modern standard form of Arabic. So if a Moroccan hasn't completed his education (as is the case with many Moroccans), he can't understand follow it as we might John Madden and Pat Summerall discussing American football.

What was even stranger was the halftime show. The main commentator spoke in Fusha, but the guest expert was actually Spanish. He responded to the questions in Spanish and his responses were dubbed over in Fusha. I have no idea if he was reading a translation of the questions or if he spoke Arabic or what. But it gave the halftime discussion a really strange dynamic, like a much more boring version of an old Jackie Chan movie.

Barcelona was up 4-1 late in the game when one of the Moroccans near us leaned over and struck up a conversation in English. His English was not perfect, but pretty good. We tried to say a few things in Arabic and French, but mostly we talked in English. The last twenty minutes of the game or so, we talked about soccer and Meknes and traveling (he claims that he is the only Moroccan ever crazy enough to travel to Algeria for a vacation; not only is it a dangerous place, it also has very poor relations with Morocco). He also mentioned a soccer league that he plays in around town; Daniel sounded very interested. As we left the cafe after the game (Barcelona won 6-1), we discovered that he lives in the building right next to us. In typical Moroccan hospitality, he said that if we needed absolutely anything we should just let him know.

In the next few weeks, I think Daniel and I will be taking him up on his offer and asking more about that soccer league.