He’d hunted big game for years all over the United States. Hunting was a way of life to him. But, in all those years, he’d never shot a buffalo. He’d put his name in for the lottery that gave out yearly licenses to shoot buffalo, but year after year the winning number had eluded him. As he failed, again and again, his need to add a buffalo, an American bison, to his life bag grew to obsessive proportions. Finally, he could stand it no longer. He determined that he would buy a couple of young buffalo, raise them, and then shoot them. It seemed like a plan.
When the buffalo purchase was completed the question arose about where these buffalo were to be raised. He wasn’t a rich man and the cost to two baby buffalo maxed out his credit cards. The only viable option was to raise them on his front lawn in Moab, Utah. Accordingly, the buffalo were delivered and put out to pasture, or “out to lawn” as the case may be.
Besides grass the lawn also contained, courtesy of his kids, a couple of soccer balls. Shortly after the buffalo became his lawn ornaments, he was out walking among them when one of them discovered a soccer ball and butted it over to him with its nose. Without thinking he kicked it back towards the other buffalo, who passed it to the first buffalo who butted it back to him. An hour or so of passing and kicking the soccer ball between man and buffalo ensued.
When he went out on his lawn the next morning, they were waiting for him. One seemed to be playing midlawn while the other hung back by the water trough which had become some sort of goal. The forward buffalo butted the ball towards him. Without thinking he returned the kick over the head of the forward. No good. With a speed belying its bulk, the defensive buffalo moved quickly and butted it through his legs to the porch. When it bounced off the barbecue, they seemed to do a brief victory prance. The game was afoot.
Day after day, week after week, the strange lawn ritual with the soccer ball went on and on. In truth, he had long since pulled far ahead of the buffalo in goals, but what do buffalo know about keeping score?
In time, however, the hunting season came around. He looked out of his house on the first morning and saw the buffalo waiting for him, the soccer ball in front of the forward, the defensive buffalo pacing slowly back and forth by the water trough. It came to him then that he could never shoot them. It would spoil the season — and the soccer season, in the deserts of Utah, is never really over.
On a hot afternoon soon after, he looked out his window and discovered, much to his delight and his neighbors’ shock, that the two buffalo on his lawn were indeed male and female.
Now it is two years later and he has four buffalo on his lawn. He doesn’t hunt anything anymore. Says he’s lost the taste for it. His old hunting buddies come by every so often and razz him about the buffalo.
“You started with two and couldn’t shoot them,” one said. “Now you got four, and next year you’re gonna have five. What are you going to do then?”
He went to his garage and came back with a basketball.
I hate to quarrel with a great story, but…
1) No serious hunter would consider shooting domestically-raised game animals as a satisfactory form of sport.
2) Buffalo are really really strong, and really really disposed to wander. You couldn’t possible keep two buffalo on your lawn without fencing on a scale adequate to stop a tank.
I don’t have a problem with picturing buffalo playing with a soccer ball. I’ve seen horses playing with balls.
UPDATE: Gerard van der Leun writes to tell me that he took the above photo himself and got the story from the horse’s mouth. I’ll be….
Saudi Arabiaâ€™s Football Federation apologized on behalf of the countryâ€™s national soccer team for failing to observe a minuteâ€™s silence for victims of a recent London terrorist attack ahead of a World Cup qualifying match against Australia.
The incident prompted a furious response in Australia, with the crowd jeering the Saudi team, which instead of lining up moved into positions for the coming match on Thursday as Australiaâ€™s players linked arms to pay silent respects to victims. While many of the Saudi players stood still, others including the team captain, Osama Hawsawi, continued warm-ups and stretches.
Eight people died in Saturdayâ€™s attack in London, among them two Australians.
The Saudi Federation said Friday it condemned â€œall acts of terrorism,â€ adding that it â€œdeeply regrets and unreservedly apologies for any offense caused by the failure of some members of the representative team of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia to formally observe the one minuteâ€™s silence in memory of the victims of the London terrorist attack.â€
â€œThe players did not intend any disrespect to the memories of the victims or to cause upset to their families, friends or any individual affected by the atrocity.â€
Ann Coulter celebrates the World Cup with a red-blooded, all-American anti-soccer rant.
Liberal moms like soccer because it’s a sport in which athletic talent finds so little expression that girls can play with boys. No serious sport is co-ed, even at the kindergarten level. …
I resent the force-fed aspect of soccer. The same people trying to push soccer on Americans are the ones demanding that we love HBO’s “Girls,” light-rail, Beyonce and Hillary Clinton. The number of New York Times articles claiming soccer is “catching on” is exceeded only by the ones pretending women’s basketball is fascinating.
I note that we don’t have to be endlessly told how exciting football is. …
It’s foreign. In fact, that’s the precise reason the Times is constantly hectoring Americans to love soccer. One group of sports fans with whom soccer is not “catching on” at all, is African-Americans. They remain distinctly unimpressed by the fact that the French like it. …
Soccer is like the metric system, which liberals also adore because it’s European.
Further proof that soccer is a game for girls: Since my column came out, a guy from the Paraguay team (Uruguay? Who cares?) was caught biting an opponent in a match. Not punching. Not a cross-body block. BITING! How long can it be until we see hair-pulling in soccer?
Shaj Matthew, in the New Republic, explains why one of the last century’s greatest writers justly despised his own country’s national obsession.
Soccer is popular,â€ Jorge Luis Borges observed, â€œbecause stupidity is popular.â€
At first glance, the Argentine writerâ€™s animus toward “the beautiful game” seems to reflect the attitude of todayâ€™s typical soccer hater, whose lazy gibes have almost become a refrain by now: Soccer is boring. There are too many tie scores. I canâ€™t stand the fake injuries.
And itâ€™s true: Borges did call soccer â€œaesthetically ugly.â€ He did say, â€œSoccer is one of Englandâ€™s biggest crimes.â€ And apparently, he even scheduled one of his lectures so that it would intentionally conflict with Argentinaâ€™s first game of the 1978 World Cup. But Borgesâ€™ distaste for the sport stemmed from something far more troubling than aesthetics. His problem was with soccer fan culture, which he linked to the kind of blind popular support that propped up the leaders of the twentieth centuryâ€™s most horrifying political movements. In his lifetime, he saw elements of fascism, Peronism, and even anti-Semitism emerge in the Argentinean political sphere, so his intense suspicion of popular political movements and mass cultureâ€”the apogee of which, in Argentina, is soccerâ€”makes a lot of sense. (â€œThere is an idea of supremacy, of power, [in soccer] that seems horrible to me,â€ he once wrote.) Borges opposed dogmatism in any shape or form, so he was naturally suspicious of his countrymenâ€™s unqualified devotion to any doctrine or religionâ€”even to their dear albiceleste.
Soccer is just the most popular commercial team game in the world outside the United States. All commercial team games are modern developments organized originally by carnival impresarios to separate the urban proletarian from his beer nickel. These teams and the games they play are totally and completely meaningless spectacles performed purely for commercial purposes. The teams’ regional identifications and mascots are utterly meaningless. Players come from anywhere. Teams may be sold and relocated, coaches and recognizable styles of play & performance may be routinely altered on the basis of owners’ whims at the any moment.
Commercial game teams stand for absolutely nothing, and fan identification and loyalty is, as Borges recognized, a kind of willful stupidity constituting an intentional surrender of self to a totally ersatz sort of group identity.
It seems South Americans take their soccer very very seriously after all. Case in point, Chilean porn star, Marlen Doll who made good on her tweeter pledge of having sex if the Chilean team score at least three goals and win the match.
The text below promised that the Chilean porn star would have random sex for at least 8 hours from her twitter feed (since suspended).
Porque yo soy la cabala de Chile encomiendense a santa Marlen doll #laroja#Vamoschile por las 8 hr sexo!!pic.twitter.com/5941JxSc9V
According to TheEliteDaily, the translation of the above tweet goes something like this:
â€œI promise if Chile wins, I will have sex for eight hours with different men from twitterâ€
That tweet was noticed by several people following her on Twitter and was retweeted many times. Marlen went on to reiterate that she would stand by her promise, come what may.
Inquisitr tells not only did Chile triumph over Australia, they did it with a score of 3-1! The conditions laid out by Marlen Doll were met and people began asking if she had any plans to fulfill the promise she had made a few days ago. Being a woman of her word, Marlen Doll actually called in people to come in and â€œcelebrateâ€ Chileâ€™s victory with her in a night-long party. Pictures of the party would go on to be posted on to Marlenâ€™s Twitter account before the account interestingly became suspended.
Apparently, Marlen not only fulfilled her 8 hours of sex promise, she went on celebrating for twelve hours.
Thezman celebrates the World Cup with a good anti-soccer (aka Fag Ball) rant.
What turns me off of soccer is the cultural angle. When I was a boy, our betters were trying to force soccer and the metric system on us. The people doing it were all dickheads. Not a single one was anything but a loathsome snob. Worse yet, all of them were the children of working class people who knew better. But, Johnny and Betty went off to the state college and came back thinking they were better than everyone else.
Over time, those people have remained with us. When I think of soccer, I think of those smug assholes of my youth. Iâ€™ve probably heard â€œit is the most popular sport in the worldâ€ a million times in my life. That is the sort of thing stupid say when they want to sound sophisticated. In most of the world, soccer is the sport of the lower classes. That means out bourgeois bohemians are aping the mores of chavs. Good job.
What I despise about soccer is the way suburban bouzhy parents promoted this sissy European game in preference to Walter Camp’s All American football, motivated a) by cowardice and fear that their precious little urchins might get injured and b) by a snobbish rejection of ordinary down home American culture in favor of a supposedly more chic and sophisticated recreation esteemed in other countries.