PTSD

Sports and Barbies

Who'd have thought a post on clothing (of all things) would actually get comments from lurkers, eh? At least it's confirmed that more than one person reads PTSD. Right now, though, I'm wondering what I'll do after next weekend when the World Cup is over. I won't have a reason to spend all day in pubs anymore (though I suppose I could write my dissertation/joint papers there).

If like me you are suffering from World Cup withdrawal, fear not: Germany versus Argentina awaits tomorrow morning. Again, for the first time in my life, I want Germany to do well. I like the way this German team plays--open, attacking football without much thought for defence and even Kahn is now fairly happy about being sidelined. Or so he said. I like the French too despite them having ridiculous politicians who make comments about how the national team is not reflective of French society. Thuram, probably playing in his last World Cup, has an excellent response.

In the meantime, read this about female supporters (of England but, based on my observations of local pubgoers, there're a lot of female supporters of France and Brazil as well). Usually, I don't like this sort of article which rather patronisingly goes on about "ooh, look how lovely, the lasses are joining in!" type of reporting but this one picks up on two common themes about female football (and perhaps other sports too) fans: the implication that, because of their femaleness, they know less of the sport than men do and that they are mostly there for watching the men (rather than the game).

Both these themes, while true to certain extents, aren't gender-specific but it is usually female fans that are framed in these ways. I find both those attitudes puzzling and also, to a certain extent, a geographically-distinct phenomenon. In the parts of South and South-east Asia I lived in and in Australia and New Zealand too you are expected to know sports, no matter what gender you are. If you don't, your conversation topics are limited and you're pretty much reduced to silence at most barbeques* (and there're loads of them so you're reduced to being silent most of the time). It's like knowing about World War Two (or the one with the Germans in it) if you are PTSD's age and grew up in Europe--something that's part of the socialisation process. Besides, unless you have a family where each member (quite fanatically) supports one team or the other, then what is there to fight about? And, really, what is life without fights?**



* Talking of barbeques, E's having one on Sunday. I'm sure she'd love for PTSD readers to attend. See, E, that's what happens when you disappear from blogging. I invite random strangers to your party.

** That is what is called (or so I'm told) a "rhetorical question". Apparently, it's a question that doesn't require an answer. Yous are most welcome to answer it if you want. Go on, give it a shot. You know you want to.

posted by Priya @ 11:22 PM