Studs Up

I know there’s still a little bit of confusion about where I’m from, although I suppose certain comics and… other certain comics don’t help the issue. It’s a bit like when I publish a comic about Liverpool, I get called a United supporter, or when I publish a comic about United, and I get called a Liverpool supporter. I can’t win… or am I winning all the time? Uh… let’s move on.

The World Cup has only exacerbated my own confusion so I can’t possibly fault you for yours. In reality the only horse I have in this race is, at a stretch, Australia thanks to my parents and the passport I hold. But considering I only visit annually as opposed to actually ever having lived there, it’s not quite “my country”. England is a similar story, lived there for a bit but not long enough to be English. I went to university in America but I’m certainly not American.

So I generally support all of them. I want to see the US succeed so the world’s biggest market, full of innovation and entrepreneurship, can take a liking to football and help add a new dimension to the game and how we experience it. I want England to win as its the league I follow most and success helps drive it, and I want Australia to win because I have family and some semblance of roots there. Also its hilarious.

So today was an amazing day in that respect. The sheer drama of it was, as I may regret broadcasting to Twitter, anus-clenching. The two nations whose media and products I consume most made it through, thus allowing the World Cup to continue to fill every aspect of my life. I thought for a minute Australia was going to turn this into a full on soiled-pants afternoon but, alas, the fates finally had enough. It’s only been the group stage but the amount of football consumption I’ve enjoyed has been overwhelming and amazing. We’ve been gorging on the fatty bacon-wrapped foie gras football amuse bouche, with the heart-wrenching, glorious main course still to come. I fear this World Cup is going to be like having the flu. When you have it, you can’t quite remember what its like not to. But when its gone, you can’t remember what its like to have it.

Until your country gets knocked out, luckily I have two left.