It’s always been a family (indeed, a national) tradition to watch the world cup. Son inherits his loyalty to a club from father just like clan names. However, in the last two cups I became only loyal to a good match of football, to whomever knows how to treat a ball like a gentleman. Perhaps it’s the nostalgia or the collective bondage which still draws me like millions of other fans to watch it play out every four years.
That said, nothing beats a good, friendly match with the pals in the local field; or the recess matches between the cramped walls in school, using a home-made nylon/paper ball.