You cant call it soccer anymore,unless you are an ageing housewife in the American Midwest. The French call it le football,the Germans call it fußball and the Italians call it calcio which means the heel. It isnt rugby as played by the Americans. But you can call it footie. It may have different names in different countries,but its universally regarded as The Beautiful Game. In India,we often call it an excuse. After a discreet yet overdue rhinoplasty from the not-so-discreet Mumbai surgeon Dr Ashok Gupta,Mrs J found herself forgotten from the guest-list of the most elegant evening of the year so far Maharaja Gaj Singh and Deepak Parekhs super snobby fundraiser for patients with head injuries. This mighty elite gala hops cities every year and last years soiree in Londons Whitehall saw Sarah Ferguson,Sigourney Weaver,Prince Michael of Kent and Sir Bob Geldof attending. What to do? Mr J has his friends over,USA is playing Slovenia you see,and I need to supervise the pyaaz bhajiyas. Yeah right,making onion fritters is far more fun than clinking flutes with Elizabeth Hurley. And Jimmy Choo can make pigs fly. When the recently divorced Ms S found herself missing from the Queens annual birthday bash last week,she almost swooned. She never missed a consulate function ever; all those page-three opportunities; and who wants to stand in the achingly long visa queues? How could I go? she telephoned to offer. After Englands shoddy playing,it would be embarrassing,no? I politely didnt point out that Her Highness Queen Elizabeth II would not be attending the Mumbai party and perchance she did,football would not be on her noble mind. This Sunday,a girlfriend brought her two adorably noisy tots over for a play-date with my not-adorably noisy rascal. Her husband (a rugby player for the uber-cool Bombay Gym team) had abandoned our Fathers Day lunch plans for a football lunch with the boys. We sat the kids for four (or was it five?) hours,through a messy mums-only pizza lunch followed by a messier sorry-papas-missing ice cream treat. (When is Mothers Day again? What? It just passed?) Not to be unfair,but its estimated that 175 million people watched the last World Cup in 2006. The United Nations may have only 192 participating nations but 204 countries tried to qualify this year for 32 slots. So,yes,it is an astonishingly popular game and cricketing facts and figures can never touch these. But the funny thing is this is said to be the dullest World Cup ever. Most of the big teams are performing poorly,with the New World ringing in the death of Europe already. Top that with our just-concluded IPL fatigue,and we surely need those cacophonous vuvuzelas to keep us awake through the World Cup matches. But you wont hear me complain. I skipped Aamir and Kirans party for the multiple Oscar winning composer (for most of my favourite foreign films) Gustavo Santaolalla to watch,er,the Dutch play,ahem,Japan. I promise it had nothing to do with my newfound proximity to Shah Rukh. (namratanow@gmail.com)
