Thank you World Cup.

I've really come a long way since my indifference to soccer pre-2002, when I was living in a huge, Real World-esque house with 7 strangers. (Except they were all ladies who knew each other -- I was the stranger.) My recently acquired BFF, Dan Mirman, somehow injected the World Cup bug into my veins. I'm not sure I even knew what the World Cup truly was prior to that summer, but we'd either stay up late to watch the "early" men's matches at roughly 2 or 3 a.m., or wake up at 5 a.m. to watch the "late" matches as they were broadcast live from South Korea and Japan. My roomies would come home from the bars to find us grilling burgers and cheering on Cameroon and Italy. And we got some seriously weird looks when grilling out at 5:15 a.m. for a U.S.A. match one morning. But, that was the summer of enlightenment when anything went, and watching soccer at 5 a.m. while eating burgers for breakfast was the norm.

I followed last summer's South African World Cup most seriously, partly because I was still hooked from the good times and memories of summer of 2002, and partly because I was unemployed and had the means to watch every single match. I started to understand the intricacies of the game -- it wasn't simply a bunch of dudes running up and down a huge field anymore. I began to see the strategies, the fouls; I finally started to understand what the hell "offside" meant; and adopted an affinity for terms like "equalizer" and the ethos that shots can be "unlucky." I followed the U.S. men devotedly, from the dramatic Donovan goal against Angola to their unfortunate demise to Ghana. (Hey, if it had to be anyone, I didn't mind an African team beating the U.S. to advance. It was, after all, their own home turf...kind of.) I developed favorite players, from Uruguay's Diego Forlan to Argentina's Lionel Messi and their belovable coach, Diego Maradona.

Feeling a void this summer, I was excited when the Women's World Cup tournament started from Germany. And, as a bonus, I wouldn't have to watch live matches at 4 a.m. While the top-ranked U.S. women cruised through their first two matches in group stage, they stuttered against a resilient and unforgiving Swedish team. Instead of the easier quarterfinal match against Australia, the loss paired the stars-and-stripes up against Brazil, a renowned football powerhouse.

The match was frustrating despite an own-goal from Brazil only 2 minutes into the match. For the remainder of the first half and most of the second, the U.S. seemed to be simply defending their lead, not plying to extend it. Finally, Brazil scored on a penalty kick gift after several bunk calls and a red card penalty on U.S. Having to play one person down and against the momentum of Brazil's goal, it seemed as if the U.S. women had met their match. Despite countless corners, free kicks and centered break-aways, the U.S. simply couldn't will the ball into the net.

Already in extra time, and fast approaching the 120-minute mark, the refs granted 3 extra minutes of stoppage time. After an unsuccessful corner kick, the announcer repeated that the U.S. had seemingly run out of time and attempts, until Megan Rapinoe centered a lengthy pass to Abby Wambach for a serious last-second goal at 122 minutes in to send the match to penalty kicks. Still, a day-and-a-half after the goal was scored, I struggle to remember any sports moment as clutch, exciting, and amazing as the one I witnessed at the end of this match.

Even 9 years ago, enthralled by the men's World Cup matches in the early morning hours while consuming grilled meat products, I never would have imagined that "soccer," "women's," and "World

"Great sport. Pele turned me onto it back
in the day when we were chasing honeys."

Cup" would have been the descriptors of one of, if not the most memorable and exciting sports moment in my sports spectating career. While I can't say I'm as enthusiastic about "football" as Dennis Hopper in Entourage, you can certainly bet that I'll be camped in front of a TV for every World Cup for the remainder of my life.