Football.

Even if you’re not a fan of sport, few people would deny that it’s a suitable substitute for war. Perhaps nationalistic pride is inevitable, and sport may very well be our best catharsis. Some may argue that sport fuels these fiery passions more than it quells them. But keep in mind how much of a diplomatic effort must be made behind the scenes and off the field, simply to get two enemies to appear before a crowd together. Of all sports, the one with the most passion behind it is definitively football, not only in its unifying reputation as “The World Game”, but also in the fact that so many countries play their own radically different version, and patriotically refuse to call it anything other than Football.

Forget about the differences. What do each of these different kinds of football have in common? Each and every player handles the ball directly. There is nothing, no other tool or implement, between the person and the object of attention. The grace and glory of football (whatever that football is) lies not in how one wields a club or bat or car, but how they can handle the thing itself. Furthermore, football is invariably played on cut grass. Halfway between the civilisation of concrete and unkempt wilderness of an open field, lawn represents culture even more than agriculture… it spells for cultivation. Nothing ‘evil’ grows in this organic velvet, only dandelions and the occasional mushroom. Yes, burrs grow readily in lawn and are increasingly distributed every time the grass is mowed. But remember, burrs only begin to show once a lawn ceases to be cared for.

Similarities aside, the differences in each code of football point out the uniqueness in each nation that spawned them. In Australian Rules, they control an egg-shaped ball that looks like it was never meant to be controlled. Likewise, we have harnessed a harsh and arid land that was never meant to be farmed. This metaphor works in mind and body; the agile but muscular bodies of Aussie Rules players resembling that of stockmen. Sinewy but strong, able to leap above the pack like kangaroos. The bodies of American Football players, however, look like they were built to be the alpha males of built environments like bars and carparks. “Built” is the appropriate word here. Bodies like that do not occur naturally, cannot occur simply from interacting with the environment. The American Football player wears armour, and beneath that, they look like warriors. A gridiron body must be forged in a gym, lifting weights, fighting no one but yourself.

As much as it is a sport that praises brute force, strategy lies at the core of American Football. Each ‘play’ is a closely guarded secret, even coded when spoken aloud on the field. Once that code works however, it is ultimately muscle that gets past the defenders, that gets the ball over the line. Likewise, America was founded on a concept- the self evident truths that all men are created equal and endowed with certain unalienable rights. But a concept is not enough to run a country. Political processes must evolve. Checks and balances must ebb and flow. The concept must be actively nurtured. It is a fitting coincidence that the two national sports of the United States (baseball & football) involve a lot of stopping and starting. America is forever fiercely split in two, Democrat & Republican, and the pendulum typically swings with eight years in one house followed by eight in the other. In sport and in rule, it appears America has only so long to make progress, and then only so long to protect it.

How apt it is that Soccer has been crowned ‘The World Game’ when it is the only version played with a round ball. How strange it is then, that our view of control in that world, is turned on its head. For the goal of the game is precise control, using anything other than our hands. We must turn our feet and legs, normally running on autopilot and largely forgotten, into things of dance and finesse. The soccer player must overcome themselves, before they have any chance to overcome the ball, or anyone who wants it. The clearest hallmarks of our civilisation exist in soccer too; clear as day and mathematics. The squared angles of the field, the perfect circle in the centre. Such perfect shapes don’t exist in nature, they are ours and ours alone. But what about the triangle, that last in the trifecta and the strongest of all human shapes? We have a ninety minute match split into two forty-five minute halves. A ninety degree angle and two forty-fives to match- isn’t that a perfect Pythagorean triangle? Soccer runs on as few rules as possible, providing more elbow room for more diverse situations. All the richness in our universe comes from only four universal laws (electromagnetism, gravity, and the strong & weak nuclear forces).

Soccer has one important rule though, and it doesn't deserve the confusion most people associate with it. To avoid being called Offside, a player cannot move past the last defender before kicking for goal. The ball must be in the air when it goes past both the last defender and the goalie. In other words, the goal kicker’s ball control must be greater than two other players in that moment, even after it has left them and is no longer in their control. To score a goal, the control must be greater than even, more than one-against-one, powerful or precise enough to cancel the cancelling out. To get the ball to the goal took a team, a society. But getting the ball into the goal takes the wonder of One. The Individual who earns the right to pull their shirt over their head. The One who has the crowd on their feet, because they did with their feet what so many of us could not even do with our hands.

/mr_metaphor.