Watching the World Cup this year has made me think a little about karma. In USA’s Group games against Slovenia and Algeria, there were a number of terrible calls by the refs. Imaginary offsides, not calling blatant holds, disallowed goals. It should have kept the USA out of the elimination round, but it didn’t. Let’s back up.
Game one against England, we got a goal that we, arguably, shouldn’t have gotten. A soft goal and a mistake by England’s goalkeeper, Robert Green, allowed the US to tie that game and stay in the running to make it to the elimination round.
Game two against Slovenia, there was the call heard round the world. The disallowed goal that shocked not just the United States, but spectators from around the world. It was so horrifying, to know that we could have lost that game because of a bad call. But we didn’t.
Game three against Algeria, again, terrible calls, but the USA scores at minute 91 in extra time after a painfully large number of shots on goal and a disallowed goal, again off a bad call, again.
I started to wonder that perhaps we were due for some luck on our side. Right?
Recently, I ran across some pictures of my ex (ahh the pitfalls of social networking sites) from his birthday party this month. He looked thin and tan and happy. Had his arm around this girl that I knew was a friend of a friend (not so happy about that one). She’s probably three or four years younger than me, blonde, big boobs, tan, pretty much your typical nightmare. My ex had lots of people at this party. Smiling people with solo cups and board shorts and they were all there for him. I scrolled through these pictures as I sat at home, freezing cold in the middle of June in Northern California, eating ice cream and watching an episode of The Bachelorette that I DVR-ed from earlier in the week. Better yet, I had a remarkably busy past couple weeks at work, and have been failing to work out or comb my hair or shower really, on a regular basis during that time. All my time was spent either working or taking my dog to the park, and subsequently failing to lint roll the dog hair off my sweatshirt before walking down the street to get take out and eat it alone in my apartment in front of the TV every night. Quite a contrast from this sparkly new life my ex has created for himself in Southern California. It wasn’t fair.
I can hear my mother now “Life isn’t fair”. But isn’t it supposed to be? My ex was (is) an awful person. And did some pretty awful, unforgivable things to me while we were together. Yet he still has friends who tolerate this vile behavior and chose him over me. He has more people showing up to his 31st birthday party than I get to hang out with in the course of a year. I was hoping that karma would kick in at some point and I would see pictures of him weeping on a sidewalk somewhere in the rain, dressed in rags or something. Or better yet, hoping he would have to move back east and live with his parents again. But it’s looking more and more like he’s winning and I’m losing. I might be the one moving back east to live with my mother and out on the street, weeping (and likely covered in dog hair). But alas, my ex is going to live the good life and I’m going to live whatever kind of life I’m currently living (I suppose I’m happyish), and I’ll have to wait a little longer for the karma thing.
I suppose sometimes, sports and life alike, karma isn’t going to happen when you need it to, you just have to be patient and have faith that it will happen, eventually.
Chicks Like Sports Too 