1 July 2010

Arugula, Basil, Beets or turnips, Dill, Endive (escarole or frisee), Kohlrabi, Lettuce, Radishes, Scallions, Squash

It is fortunate that the World Cup only happens once every four years. It gives me plenty of time from one tournament to the next to forget how much I dislike watching the best soccer players in the world cheat. Not that all the tripping and diving (observe anybody on the Argentine team falling over at the slightest contact, arms raised, back elegantly arched, to see the dive at its operatic best), the pushing and jersey grabbing have destroyed my enjoyment of the game. There is still plenty of spectacular soccer taking place, from some obviously remarkable goals to the subtlest of touches, which comes as no surprise. These are all, even the North Koreans, highly gifted soccer players, men who have dedicated an astounding portion of their lives to the game.

You would think that if you could play a game that well you would not have to cheat at it. Your practiced skills would be your advantage, not a fistful of your opponent’s jersey. And you would think that having given so much of your life to a game—to an endeavor entirely defined by its rules (if you pick up the ball and run around holding it or bouncing it off the ground you are no longer playing soccer)—you would take a keen interest in sticking to its laws.

But I guess rules were made to be broken. Actually, I have never understood what that is really supposed to mean. It sounds less like an acute observation than a piece of self-justification, the sort of thing you would say as you jumped a turnstile or fudged some numbers on your tax return or created a shell company to hide your crippling corporate debt from your shareholders and government regulators. It is true that by their nature rules can be broken. Of course, Ming vases by their nature can also be broken, but nobody says that they were therefore made for that purpose. I cannot help thinking that in fact most rules actually were made to be followed.

It is also true, obviously, that breaking rules gives you an advantage—as long as you are not caught. Some people break rules just for the fun of it—possibly the same sorts of people who fly the Confederate flag to show they are rebels. But most people do it because they gain from cheating. That is certainly the case in the World Cup. The players are looking for any way to win, and if that includes a well placed elbow to an opponents lower back or spending half a minute writhing on the ground clutching an uninjured leg, so be it. It works most of the time, and anyway, as many of the players would be quick to point out, everyone else does it so not doing it puts you at a disadvantage.

I do not mean to single out soccer players in this regard. The best athletes in just about every major sport routinely cheat. I doubt there were many foul-free downs played in the NFL last season. The Tour de France and most track meets would more accurately be called pharmaceutical rather than athletic competitions. Baseball players are busy improving bats and balls and bodies in various banned ways. It would not surprise me at all to learn that ping-pong champions bend the rules at least as skillfully as they do their serves.

Of course the best athletes cheat. They did not become that good at their chosen sport simply for the love of the game. They may well love it (though, as Andre Agassi wants us to know, they may also hate it). But it is competitiveness that keeps them working so hard to be as good as they are. When you are that driven and have given up that much of your life to one thing in order to win at it, it is hardly surprising that you would try for victory any way you can even if that means breaking the rules of the game to which you have dedicated yourself.

So one lesson sports can teach kids—and of course we should all look to sports to inculcate our offspring with moral sensibilities—is that people who strive single-mindedly to succeed will cheat at least a little when the ref is looking the other way if it helps them get ahead. Obviously, a lot of bankers grew up wanting to emulate their sports heroes—and did. Fortunately, there are a few other lessons to go with this one. Such as the fact that an unmediated desire to win warps your sense of fair play. Or the fact that putting a few more referees on the field to keep an eye the players and penalize cheaters would cut down on the misdeeds. Or the fact that a deeply cynical governing body that regards money and popularity as greater goods than governing will help foster a culture of cheating. Or the fact that being good at a game is not the same as being good.

These are all excellent things to teach a kid. Not, I hasten to add, that they apply in any way to the rest of our lives. Goodness no. We are just talking about soccer here. It is only a game, a pastime, a simple amusement, an escape from the real world.

I believe at this point I am supposed to offer some nifty segue from soccer to farming—perhaps offer up agriculture as a shining counter example of ethical behavior or provide recipes from each of the quarter final countries. Unfortunately, farmers are people too, and if Ghanaians have wonderful ways of preparing kohlrabi I am sadly ignorant of them. I have nothing for you. Well, nothing but some vegetables, a familiar cast of characters. Consider the squash a sort of early warning, a reminder of what could be headed your way. Start looking for squash recipes.

The squash is also, I hope, a more positive omen, a harbinger of summer crops to come. So far the cucumbers, tomatoes, peppers, eggplants, onions and beans show real potential. The weather has been decent to us. The equipment has worked. The deer have exercised some restraint (mostly because we have used a lot of deer repellent). It is an oddly, almost unnervingly promising year.

That is not to say that everything will go as planned from here on out. The weather, pests and diseases all play dirty no matter how close an eye you keep on them. Just when you think you have reached your goal they will catch you unaware and drive you to your knees. You just have to learn to expect that sort of behavior, anticipate and sidestep it the best you can, strive to maintain your balance when they hit you, keep moving forward. And kick them in the shins when nobody is watching.