I celebrate the FIFA World Cup every year as though it were an Anniversary. It brings such happy memories. I watched it with my stepdad when I was young, my husband, when I was a young bride and my daughter when she was a child. This year is particularly special because my daughter gets married. Another reason to celebrate.
Below is a snip from my book – Dead of July – which is set in 1982, the year I celebrated the FIFA World Cup in Germany. It was a very good year.
The beer soon arrived and the first glass slid down my parched throat without even touching the sides so I quickly ordered another. The local draught beer, which came in a tiny glass, was strong and full of flavor. I drank the second a little more slowly savoring its delicious hoppy taste. Heaven! I could see that the television inside the bar was tuned to a sports channel and the broadcasters were talking about the upcoming FIFA World Cup matches. World Cup fever was rampant throughout Europe and South America. It was infectious. The German team looked like strong contenders to win the coveted trophy and more often than I care to mention, I heard “the Germans are going to vin of course.”
Although I was British, I was rooting for the Italians to win the tournament. The Italian team was exciting to watch. The games were full of drama and passion, their players unpredictable and exciting (and very handsome)! As long as I can remember I’ve been a fan of anything Italian, including football, or soccer as the Americans liked to call it. I’d watched World Cup football for as long as I can remember, even in the days of black and white TV, back when England actually managed to win. That was a long time ago, 1966 if I remember rightly, when the beat West Germany 4 – 2.