Okay, my dear American readers, this is how things are going to go in 11 days, 19 hours and XX minutes: we are going to lose track of our entire lives as we watch WAY TOO MUCH SOCCER. Yah, it’s season over for Weston boys and girls soccer but we have a way of cheering us up–the world’s biggest sports competition.

Every single time the World Cup has come around, I think that I’ll just watch a match or two…and then there is some little Cinderella story or a Mbappé appears from obscurity (2018) or James Rodrigues in 2014. The last World Cup game I actually attended was when we lived in Brazil in 2014…and it was hosted there, and we got to see Messi score a lone goal against Iran in the Mineirão soccer stadium in Minas Gerais. Have any idea what I’m talking about? Fine, just scroll on by.

It goes without saying that Brazil stops for their World Cup games. You have no idea what I mean by this unless you have been there. Not a car on the street, not a taxi, not anything. A city of 11 million (São Paulo) simply stops, as does a country of 215 million. Stopped. Those are the Brazil games, and I will miss everything about being there for the games: running into the Dutch and Argentinian fans who are hilarious (Argentinian) as well as orange (Dutch), getting together with family and friends to cheer and sometimes cry, and talking about soccer for a month straight. No, I have no idea what I’m talking about but I still love having an opinion on things (strikingly similar to my Owl posts).

Mr. Owl has blocked his schedule for the Brazil games. He has probably blocked it for other games as well–we’re in a don’t ask, don’t tell situation with his American company which just does not understand. We are prepared with our canary yellow shirts and Brazil flags. We will of course also cheer for the Dutch and the English, as well as cheer against Argentina, because Brazil is Brazil, and Argentina is not.

Consider this fair warning that the Owl will be World Cup-mad in 11 days. Scroll on by–or learn something. The Owl is an excellent predictor of matches, beaten only by that octopus Paul who is not with us this year. The Owl predicted the bite of Uruguayan Suarez about one minute before it happened while Paul remained silent. True story.

And finally, if any of you have kids who are filling up their Panini albums and need a trade partner, the Owlets are on the hunt for missing players. Again, if you don’t know what I’m talking about, sorry not sorry. Scroll on by.

Vai Brasil!