A rather pompous and arrogant Englishman once expressed the following view of football and females: ”Why do you women even bother, you can never fully appreciate football. You don’t even understand what the offside rule is all about.”
This Englishman went on to describe how football is ”poetry in motion” and in order to grasp its beauty one needs an intricate knowledge of its form, structure, rhythm, metre and verse. Things that he obviously believed were beyond the capability of the female sex.
Not every man holds such sexist views, but many see soccer as serious business. But women are avid followers of the sport and are keenly watching the events of the World Cup unfold. The women encountered watching soccer in bars and lounges around Johannesburg not only understand what the game is about, but also seem to relish the spectacle on a number of levels that many male followers do not.
Many women have a deep regard for the stylish incantations of the crowning glory of footballers. Indeed, there is something lyrical about the rhythm of flowing hair — for which the Italian and Brazilian players are noted.
Some women identify with this vanity and are even jealous of the fact that a man should possess such silky strands.”I wish I had hair like that,” I heard a woman spectator remark of Emmanuel Petit’s luscious locks.
Perhaps the marketers at L’Oreal should tailor-make a celebrity endorsement campaign for the World Cup. I think many women would take notice of advertisements where soccer’s Samsons did a sexy hair flick and cooed the tagline, ”L’Oreal — Because I’m worth it”.
”Skill isn’t enough; to be a footballer worth your balls you need good hair,” chirped a female colleague.
It may seem superficial, but image is important. Even those favouring short styles understand this. The Japanese highlighted spiky ”dos” and the previously shaven David Beckham grew back his mop as a spiky Mohawk after angering his long-standing sponsor Brylcreem.
But hairstyles are only the fluff. They are simply an attractive accompaniment to the main course — the meat and potatoes. The game attracts a visceral appreciation of the player’s skill and prowess on the field. Everybody — male and female — gets hot under the collar for the main event. The game is a truly visceral experience, primal even, which sets pulses racing. There is even something tribal about those little victory dances players do after scoring. It’s an emotional rollercoaster of joy and tears that is served up in those 90 minutes (plus extra time) and national pride is at stake.
And, of course, many women find it the perfect time to appreciate ”poetry in motion”. Every player on the field sports a fine pair of ogle-worthy legs. Run boys, run!
But after the final whistle, men slip in to rerun mode and nurse their beers. While they are still mulling over the main course, some female fans are awaiting dessert. It’s not that women don’t appreciate the main meal, but there is always time for something sweet.
When players exchange strips with opposition members a sea of well-defined torsos adorn our television screens. While this may simply be seen as an admirable display of sportsmanship, many of us see the game as a prelude to this smorgasbord of stomachs and sculpted shoulders that is the swapping of shirts.
”It’s the best part,” remarked one drooling female colleague, while another fanned herself mumbling: ”This is a workout for my hormones.”
Seldom is there such palpable female sexual interest in sports. But soccer seems to be different. One female colleague explained it like this: ”You can’t exactly get hot over the sight of rugby players, they’re not exactly pretty are they?” But footballers seem to be that perfect combination of good looks and manliness — something to really get excited about.
But this revelry in sporting eye candy does not cut both ways. Umbro once ran a billboard campaign featuring a very attractive young female model in the team strip of an English football club. The copy read: ”Who says women look better with their kit off?” Witty as this was, it proved fortuitous. Men seem to like to keep sports and sex in strictly separate arenas.
When Brandi Chastain, midfielder for the United States women’s soccer team, scored a game-winning penalty in the 1999 World Cup, she celebrated like the boys — by removing her shirt. It is obvious from the outcry that followed the sight of her bra that men are perhaps not as ready to enjoy sport on another level.
Last week CNN ran a viewer poll asking, ”What hopes do you have for the World Cup?”. A female caller said: ”I wanna see Beckham swap shirts with Ronaldo.” This only proves that my limited sample is not alone in their regard of a perfect rhyming couplet.
And just for the record — a player is offside when he receives the ball from a team-mate and there was only one opponent between him and the goal when the ball was struck.