I climbed into a yellow taxi cab in New York City.  It was hot and humid—one of the first steamy summer days of the year.  I gave the driver my destination and he asked if I minded if he put on the radio.

“Of course not,” I said,  “not a problem.”

At this point, most of my day was being consumed by a sport that many United States citizens, myself included, barely follow: soccer.  In the past, following soccer in the U.S. during the World Cup could very well be compared to the release of a hybrid car.  In the beginning, everyone is excited by the anticipation.  People crowd around the possibility that one good idea could change the culture of the world.  No one disagrees that this is good.  For the first time ever, the former lacrosse player now stockbroker high fives the Tolkien obsessed IT guy; the edgy hipster with the nihilistic tattoos and harsh bangs chest pumps the manicured daddy’s girl; Pelosi chin nods to Boehner across the floor of the House.  This could work.  This could be it.  Go USA.  Go clean energy.  Then, slowly, the “newness” fades and  most people forget about it until a few years pass and a new model with new features comes out to attract attention again.

(This clip seems to sum it up nicely)

This year the new World Cup model launched and it was the opening round.  My whole office was preoccupied with the 12 PM EST game:  Mexico versus Cameroon.  Apparently, the World Cup has the potential to not only save the world, but the ordinary man from his tedious job. After leaving the World Cup headquarters (my office) for the day, I was hoping to catch the end of the 6 PM game: Chile versus Australia.  Sadly, I had been consigned to a dinner with the in-laws and would be in transit during the end of the match, unable to watch.  I was bummed–relegated to periodically checking updates on the trusty iPhone.  Recent technology has led me to develop this obsessive tendency while following football, basketball, baseball, and even the NHL playoffs this year, but never soccer.  But, I was hooked and it was just the beginning.

The taxi driver pushed the power button on the radio.  I’m sure you can guess what protruded the airwaves. He eagerly turned up the volume and we both listened in as one of the eloquent and humorous British soccer broadcasters announced the match I thought I was going to miss.

“Have you been following the games?” I asked my new best friend.

He looked back with a smile, “Yes, my friend. I am going to Brazil tomorrow.”  We proceeded to spend the rest of our ride together ignoring the game I so desperately had to attend to, and rather discussed soccer, his plans in Brazil, and his national team, Algeria.  We discussed Brazilian culture, activities his family would partake in, and the games he planned to attend.  Of course he would be there to support Algeria.  He was hoping to catch Iran’s game and maybe one more if he was lucky.  Without knowing much about soccer, I had assumed that neither Algeria or Iran had a chance in hell of winning a single game in this event and I kind of felt badly for this man who had saved up his very hard earned money to take his family to South America. (Brazil is beautiful and all, but man, this guy was really taking a chance on being pissed at his family the entire trip.)  But the hope and excitement he expressed in our short ride made me believe.  I wanted to  be the weirdo who tagged along with my new friend and his family all the way to Brazil.  It would at the very least provide a reasonable excuse to skip yet another in-law dinner.

“Karim,” he said as he extended his hand.

“Mark,” I said, “nice to meet you…and go Algeria!”

The Algerian National Football team (a.k.a the Fennecs), much like many other African national teams, has an interesting background.  Their roster consists of eight French born players and all of the 23 players on their final roster, except four, boast their skills in Europe (far more than the current U.S. squad). They have qualified for four World Cups, most recently in 2010 in South Africa where they finished last in their group with the US, England, and Slovenia as they could not register a W.  After their 2010 performance, they had a difficult time getting their mojo back as they did not even qualify for the 2012 Africa Cup of Nations and went through three coaches during the process.  Algeria got back on track with their new coach, former Bosnian star Vahid Halilhodžić, who lead the team through the 2014 qualifying matches.  Their qualification loomed difficult, however, after finishing at the top of Group H when they needed to defeat Burkina Faso (a country not a person) in order to fully qualify.  The first leg of their battle concluded in a loss for Algeria after a controversial penalty call (highlights seen here) led to a deciding PK and a 3-2 result.   The Fennecs had better luck in the second game as their 1-0 victory granted them the right to dance in Brazil.  Although I privately hoped that Karim’s travels were secretly fueled by a desire to learn the Samba, it comforts me to know that his extravagance was justified by this win.

Since that taxi ride I have watched/listened to every possible soccer game I could.  I was mesmerized when Iran took Argentina to the 88th minute at 0-0 and the favorites were saved by Messi’s brilliance.  I attended viewing parties for every U.S. game where friends I haven’t seen in years came out of the woodwork to watch and support a sport that supposedly has limited value in our country.  I watched Chile nearly steal one from the host team who, a week later, were on the wrong side of one of the most lop-sided and surprising World Cup results ever.  And, of course, I followed Karim’s Algeria as they were the first African team to score four goals in a World Cup match.  They shocked the world by making it to the knockout stages for the first time in their nation’s history- just barely losing to Germany-this year’s champion.  What a ride and what a sport, uma pintura.

Soccer is one of the few sports that doubles as a common language spoken throughout the world.  While traveling, most of the time the best way to find common ground with a stranger in a foreign land is to talk soccer, one of the reasons why I am trying to increase my own fund of knowledge.  I have practiced this approach briefly in Europe, South and Central America, and Mexico and it has yet to fail me.  That is the thing I love most about sports–a game can bring many different types of people together.  In the purest form, that diverse group of people-whether watching or playing–only care about one thing:  their team winning.  And over the last four weeks, during all of those games, that is really all we cared about–32 countries all wanting to win “the beautiful game.”

The question now for newfound soccer fans in the United States stands:  Is this a hot new pair of wheels or is it here to stay?  A nation that founded baseball, basketball, football, and many other mainstream sports, was captivated by soccer in these past few weeks.  Does this mean that we put all of our “own” “children” briefly aside for a month and bask in the international flavor or do we permanently adopt this new child as our own?  Our decision will affect the participation of future generations in the sport and, certainly, our performance in future World Cups.  Perhaps environmentally savvy soccer moms had it right all along, having had always adopted two good ideas.