A few weeks ago, I was having a conversation with my friend George when, I couldn’t help but notice how distracted he was. Something was wrong. His conversation would trail off. Oooh’s or Come on’s would punctuate his dialog mid-sentence. As a new father, I would attribute this to his little girl, Ellie. I expect to be just as incoherent on the phone when my chance at fatherhood comes. But, in truth, the reason was far more sinister – George was hopped up on World Cup.

He had somehow gotten hooked on that most illicit of sports, a plague of the modern world over (with the exception of the US). And what’s worse is, I didn’t realize just how consuming it can be once you get your first taste. With George still on the phone, I flipped on the TV to see what he was getting so excited about. After that, it was all over. Over the next few weeks, I would have sold everything that Beth and I have in order to catch all of the televised matches. I even went so far as to watch the replays on Spanish television without a clue as to what the announcers where saying. I had sunk that low.

This wasn’t my first exposure to soccer. I experimented with US soccer when I was younger but, for some reason, it never took. With the World Cup, however, there are no commercial interruptions and the passion of the fans is enough to pull any one into the action. I never had a chance.

There, I've admitted that I have a problem. With the support fo my friends and family, I will now be taking steps to deal with this issue. It also helps that the World Cup is over. Italy won. The monkey is off my back.