World Cup Mayhem

I just felt the need to comment on the current mayem assaulting Europe.
Nevermind that Hungary isn't in the World Cup ("Worldmaster", as it's called
here), almost nothing has been happening in this town or across this country
but people sitting in front of TV screens the size of drive-in movies in
squares and in parks and beer gardens or in front of smaller viewing portals
at pubs and cafes, typically at tables and chairs set up on the sidewalks in
front of the particular venues. There they sit, drinking beer, smoking
cigarettes and making smalltalk, occasionally exploding into a roar of
excitement, while a constant drone sounding something like the waves of an
ocean plays in the background with a stadium somewhere in Germany as its
source. And on those rare instances when a goal is actually scored, a
thunderous yell shakes the entire town. You can hear it everywhere. The
weekend before last I was in Stockholm where it was exactly the same.

Unlike the US, when on the night of the superbowl you can still find plenty
of alternative joints where the clientele don't even know it's gameday,
everybody from both sexes and all walks of life is watching this stuff over
here. At my favorite beer garden in town, the Sarkkert, a comfortably
shabby bohemian plot on Margaret Island, an island somewhat larger than
Central Park in NY of beautiful park land in the Danube River in the center
of town, a concert by a visiting band from California was delayed by popular
demand so the crowd could watch some game (or "match"). I was out walking
the other evening and approached an art film theatre in my neighborhood that
also holds a very bohemian artsy cafe, the regulars of which I would never
expect to be interested in anything but the most mind-torturing Russian or
French cinema.

"Bet it's pretty empty tonight," I thought.

But no! The place was packed. The front doors and windows were wide-open
and a crowd of ponytailed men with grey beards and girls with blue hair and
leather bikini tops was assembled around a widescreen. People on their feet
hooting and howling at a missed penalty kick or some other ohso relevant
aspect of Argentina vs. Mexico.

As I descended the ramp from the Margaret bridge to Margaret Island I began
to hear a roaring crowd and noticed the lights of the athletic field were
ablaze. The idea that an actual football stadium was in use for viewers of
the world cup shouldn't have come as a surprise. But as I got closer I
noticed there were players on the field and they were wearing pads and
helmets and there were cheerleaders on the sidelines. And at each end of
the field: goalposts! It must have been the only group of people in the
country who weren't watching soccer. An American football game between the
Budapest Wolves and the Wiener Blitz (or something like that.) It was
surreal. I stood and watched on a hill overlooking the stadium and was soon
joined by fellow Rochesterian Steven Spinder, an RIT-educated photographer
who was equally dumbfounded.

"Whaht the hull's goin' aahn?"

We wound up at the Sarkkert where the crowd was split in its loyalties to
Argentina and Mexico. After a third pint of Pilsner I actually started
getting into the game.

Please tell me, is this happening back home? Or was it at all before the US
lost to Ghana?