Entire World Cup 2010 schedule in a single-page interactive infographic!
Includes all matchups with dates, cites and stadium locations, all the way from group stage to round of 16 and onwards to the finals.
Another very cool World Cup 2010 interactive infographic. This one tracks teams and predicts outcomes!
(Thanks Mau for the heads up. Follow him on Tumblr, he does cool things.)
South Africa World Cup 2010 Trailer from World Film Collective | World Cup Reporters
The googleverse says the song used in ITV’s World Cup introduction is “When You Come Back” by Vusi Mahlasela. Read about the artist here. As I cannot find the lyrics anywhere on the net, I attempted to document them myself:
WHYYYYYYYYYYYBOOOOO yeh-ee Africa
Sing loud, sing to the people
Lajalabba give something to the worrr-rrr-rrrrld
Winnah you ringa the bells when you come there
When ya kiggy tha drums yeah when come there
I’mma lows so African music
When it turn into the music of the people
Yeah the people’s music by the people’s culture
And I will be the WOORRLLYYYY flavor for the mountains
Then the sing
Africa sing
Africa sing
Africa sing
Sing sing Africa
Sing sing Africa
Sing sing Africa
Sing sing Africa
WHYYYYYYYYYYYBOOOOO yeh-ee Africa
In Central Asia today people speak over 100 variations of the Turkic language. There are something like a dozen different words for “cow”. And yet the languages are mutually intelligible to the extent that if you ask for a cow you are sure to never receive anything but a cow. That the concept of “cow” is embodied in different words by different people does not impair the trading of livestock. Nor would one feel gravely offended by their neighbor’s flawed understanding of everything embodied in the concept of “cow”, if anything other than the word they grew up knowing as “cow” is spoken. The US English spelling I used in that last sentence didn’t detract from the essential meaning I was trying to convey, right?
It’s not like “soccer” is the only word with a second name in the English language. You can’t even argue that it’s an exclusively American English word. The massive stadium in Johannesburg, South Africa, is called Soccer City, and the word “soccer” is commonly used in Australia, Canada, New Zealand and Ireland to distinguish the sport from others that combine the use of balls and feet. The word was invented here in England in the 19th century as a slang abbreviation of the word “association”, and is still used and universally understood in England as a synonym for football. Take the popular television programs Soccer AM and Soccer Saturday.
The English can argue all day that Americans enjoy renaming things as a matter of national pride in order to make things our own, as if it’s an extension of the attitude which led to the Revolutionary War and the creation of the United States. While it’s certainly funny to watch the likes of John Cleese rant at length about soccer vs football, you don’t see similar treatment of eggplant vs aubergine, trunk vs boot, detour vs diversion, or sweater vs jumper. So what’s the big deal with soccer?
Seeing all the WW2-themed headlines in the English tabloid press this past week about how today’s matchup with Germany is the latest round in an almost century-long rivalry between the two nations, reminded me of this post:
Why do English people like reminding you about the war?
It’s not one of the first things a foreigner notices upon entering England for the first time. No, it takes a more extended stay to really set in. But sooner or later you will notice that the English are constantly confronted in newspapers, television, books and film, with material about Nazis and World War II.
We human beings are creatures of habit. Most of us wake up, go to work or school, eat meals, consume media, and socialize in predictable patterns. The illusions of control we experience in small bursts throughout the day blind us to the underlying complexities of life — politics, finance, economy — all the while reaffirming that no matter how we choose to act in any given situation, our decisions are more-or-less made for us. Case in point: today you will go to the supermarket just as you did yesterday, you’ll browse the vegetable aisle just as you did yesterday, you’ll feel, smell and compare the prices of all the different vegetables — the differences between which are negligible — before deciding for yourself what to have for dinner. And yet, the options you’ll be presented with at the supermarket are predetermined by factors largely out of your control, complex factors beginning with what the market demands that farmers grow — choices that are in turn highly restricted by the kinds of land they own, the climates in which they live, their access to credit, and so on.
So how does superstition fit in? During this year’s World Cup I have worn my Spanish jersey for all of Spain’s matches except for one, their first, when they lost “shockingly” to Switzerland. Since then, I’ve worn my freshly washed jersey for each match, whether watching at home by myself, at friends’ homes, in cozy pubs or in the massively crowded patio at the Camino bar. As it happens, it seems nearly everyone at Camino was wearing their own Spanish jerseys during the Switzerland match, so clearly fans’ remote jersey wearing was not the defining factor in Spain’s 0-1 defeat. And yet, I’ll still wash my jersey from Wednesday, hang it to air dry, and wear it with gusto for tomorrow’s final against Holland. I’ve developed a pattern of thought — a habit — and though I know it will have no actual impact on the result of the match, wearing the jersey will make me feel more comfortable, more happy. I’m not a religious person and will not be praying to the saints for a Spanish victory like Spanish television commentators do live on-air (ie “The angel came down from the heavens and said, ‘Here is my throne!’” when Paraguay missed a penalty). But I can’t deny the impact of superstition and habit in my life.
Wildlife Notes:
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