There’s a friggin World Cup on people!

I was always a staunch supporter of women playin with each other you know? Get in there and get physical, that’s how the game should be.

- Andy Gray, on the Women’s World Cup

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- Response from the rest of the world

I have so far caught… let’s see, 60+75 minutes of the Women’s World Cup so far, and Holy Mother of the Feminist Movement, it has been worth every minute! As we stagger through the desert of imagined transfer offers and disgruntled player requests, the presence of some real girl-on-girl action (no, seriously, this is going to be only about the football, I promise) comes as an oasis of fun, frolic and no Sergio Busquets. Though that might have already been implied by the first two descriptions. So, if you’re utterly butterly bored of hearing about whether Cesc will move to Barcelona for the price of two heavenly Catalan-made panju mittais (cotton candy, for the non-Tams amongst you) or that Tevez simply has to move because it oh-so-tears-his-heart to be away from his daughters and has nothing to do with the 250,000 a week wages, then here’s what you’ve been missing

Apart from the vaguley disconcerting image of watching 22 thinned-down versions of Andy Carrol on the pitch, both games have been a complete treat of football. Watch closely enough and some very subtle differences from the men’s game emerge. Of course, there are some similarities as well, but they mostly seem to be the ‘ugly, cynical side’ of the game because of course, women are the more beautiful sex, and they would never think of such things. Oh no.

Mars-Venus

Japan’s decidedly muted celebrations after their extra-time goal against defending champions Germany was a case in point. Of course, while it’s prudent to not run around with your shirt off to celebrate a stoppage-time goal and take the yellow card for it, only for Eboue to give away another penalty to finish the game with a draw (snicker), the least I would have expected is some sort of a huge hug-and-roll moment (or maybe wished for is a better word). But no, there was no 10-woman pileup by the corner flag, no screaming at the cameras and certainly no manic managers running up and down the touchline. Then again, there’s only one of those.

Another interesting observation came from watching the substitution of a team that’s leading with 10 minutes to go. Now we all know that such substitutions result in the player suddenly realizing that he simply has to acknowledge the applause of the bare-chested man on the third tier singing loudly before he goes off. Or finding something extremely intriguing in his shoelaces that require 5 minutes of his undivided attention. Come to think of it, I must say I have spent good 20 minutes staring at my shoelaces as well. Especially when there’s grass around. Anyway, the point is the ladies do none of that. Or at least, not in the 135 mins I saw.

At the quarterfinal point, and the last quarterfinal game at that, the entire tournament had seen only 3 offsides, indicating the general disinclination of the ladies to… well, leave a gap open behind them (I’m trying my best to word this sensitively here). Or it could just be that men are just so much more prone to being caught offside, or going too early, or rushing into any hole that they find… bloody hell, I tried. Not to take anything away from the incredible statistic though, end of the quarterfinals and only 5 offsides in the whole tournament! The general style of play from back to front was markedly different as well, there was no dawdling about between the back four, the wingbacks are forever running (and sometimes failing to track back, though that’s ok as long as you don’t have John Terry in your team, filling in the holes) and in general there was an overwhelmin propensity to attack. I wonder what the Stoke women’s team plays like…

Of course, there were some similarities as well. The men’s game has Cristiano, the Brazil women’s team had Cristiane. And the near-same name is not what I’m referring to, please. Go figure.

At the end of the day, it’s the FIFA Women’s World Cup after all and everything the men have, the women should as well! And so it was that the  US-Brazil game saw an iffy red card, and iffier penalty ordered to be retaken, an offside goal, a 122nd minute equalizer, and then all sorts of poetic justice type matters with the US winning on penalties… apparently exactly 12 years after they won the ’99 World Cup on… wait for it, penalties! Now all I have to do is put up with all the talk shows and sports channels going on about ‘ooofeeenseee’ and ‘soccer’ and winning it on ‘PKs’. Yes, PKs! Or I have to go back to following Cesc and his panju mittai story.

Sigh.