What makes a FASTFA World Cup watch party at the Mosiman's so lit?!? (A soccer match)

I adore my son-in-law, Douglas.

We do struggle, thought, to find points of common interest.

For example, as most of you know, I'm a bit of a gym rat...an exercise fiend...if an occasion arises for me to work up a sweat...this girl is there. Douglas, however, is somewhat sedentary. Let's just say Douglas owns several pairs of Velcro pants to secure him to his couch. I am also very mindful of what I eat. I have enough empty protein powder barrels to accommodate my entire 4th grade's adventurous passage over Niagara Falls. Douglas, on the other hand, is one of the rare humans on the planet who has unlocked the secret to always successfully opening a Welch's fruit gummy packet (Start at the 's). I was presented with the coveted Golden Apple Teacher-of-the-Stratosphere award while Douglas has been denied (on multiple occasions despite his three-hour dissertation outlining all of the reasons why he was the ideal candidate for such an honor) access to his school's rarely-used balcony space. 

I just re-read that paragraph. I may have mixed up a few of the examples but I'm sure you got the point. To deepen our budding relationship, Douglas and I would need to bond over a shared experience.

Case-in-point: The World Cup. An event of which I am very comfortable thanks to my extensive background reading Harry Potter. Douglas, I am certain, was delighted to be at my house over the course of two very critically-important games (I forget who) rather than being back at home with his friends at the pub. I was ready to drop a LOT of pertinent talking points on my son-in-law while we enjoyed the games involving two teams from two different countries. "Like what?" my husband asked, fascinated (and equal parts sympathetic and gleeful for Douglas to be the recipient of all this attention). "Well," I drawled out, thinking, "There's David Beckham...." "Who is retired and you only know him from commercials and that he's married to a Spice Girl," Brad added unnecessarily. "Victoria," I stressed, glaring at him, "is the 19th richest woman in England, is a fashion designer who advocated for no-furs, and was appointed Officer of the Order of the British Empire." My husband grinned. "I bet Doug will love learning about that!" he exclaimed, "but you should probably wait for a lull in the game. Like during a penalty kick." I nodded. Duly noted. 

"What else?" Brad was practically on the edge of his seat. I bloomed beneath this rare light of attention.

"Was it Mia Hamm who made history by ripping off her shirt during a game against somebody?" "No, that was Brandi Chastain," Brad corrected gently, "but that is a key soccer-playing maneuver. Anything else?"

I clapped my hands. "I watched the first two seasons of Ted Lasso!"

"Outstanding!" my husband cheered, "You are well on your way to becoming Doug's new best friend."

"Not only that," I continued, "Dai Rojas, a character from the show, just got appointed to a team here in America!"

Brad frowned. "The character or the actor?"

"Uhhh...the actor?" I answered, unsure.

"Which team?"

"America?"

My husband took a deep breath and leaned towards me, "Amy, America has LOTS of soccer teams."

"Really?"

This conversation was the reason Brad didn't even question helping me when I landed on my "Big Plan" for making sure Douglas enjoyed watching The World Cup at my house. "Are ALL of the games called The World Cup or just the final one?" I asked as I showed Brad the soccer-vocabulary-themed BINGO boards I had purchased and downloaded for the occasion. "THE World Cup? or A World Cup?" I inquired, not wanting to look uninformed in front of my future best friend. "So...tell me about your plan," Brad suggested, slightly horrified that the BINGO cards weren't The Big Plan.

I beamed under the intensity of my husband's attention.

I showed him a picture.

He was rendered speechless with delight.

He didn't say a WORD as I spent the equivalent of a small, third world nation's GNP on the ingredients. He was fully invested and compassionately understanding as I agonized over what might be a suitable substitution for cucumber. "I imagine this is what a soccer coach feels," he said soothingly. He vowed that we would NOT exit the store until we found Slim Jims. He hugged me compassionately as I wept tears of joy when we unexpectedly discovered tiny chocolate soccer balls in the bulk section.

Without complaint, he sprayed my nine dollar piece of two-inch thick white rectangular styrofoam green. He heroically refrained from telling me that he had approximately fifteen pieces of two-inch thick white rectangular stryrofoam pieces already stored in the garage. Douglas, once he noticed my commitment, personally oversaw the painting of white lines onto my nine dollar two-inch thick rectangular styrofoam soccer field. Armed with a ruler and circle template, I meticulously recreated a FASTFA-sanctioned soccer field under Douglas's watchful eye. 

When it was time for the assembly process, I realized that I had chosen the perfect player for my team. I am the creative force but lack the drive, organization, long-term interest and follow-through to complete any project. Brad does the math. He quickly set up an assembly line that would have driven Henry Ford nuts. My husband meticulously snapped toothpicks in half to accommodate the Slim-Jim arms and legs. He carefully cut muenster and mild cheddar torsos. He designated one team to olive heads while the other sported artisanal cherry tomato heads. The cucumber soccer shorts were replaced with smoked sausage. I suppressed an immature giggle at the unintentional innuendo so as not to distract my husband from his appointed task. I admit that I almost threw in the towel when Brad informed me that a soccer team includes eleven players. "You mean we have to make twenty-two of these things?" I gasped. Brad nodded. The man was committed to accuracy.

Obviously, my family was stunned. 

I cannot imagine that Douglas anticipated the fun he would have, watching a pivotal FASTFA World Cup game at his mother-in-law's house. BINGO became much more interesting when there was $100 on the line. Less so when Brad Mosiman won his own money back. Thank goodness. That would cover a bit of what we spent on the cleated kebobs.

Douglas wrestled another soccer player out of the nine dollar, two-inch thick styrofoam field and, after dodging countless wooden stakes, commented, "They must be playing for Argentina." "Why do you think that?" I asked, deftly decapitating a soccer player. My son-in-law smiled at me. "Because they're so Messi."

*Lionel Messi is a famous soccer player who was named the world's best player by FASTFA eight times and was the recipient of the European Golden Shoes. "Just like your Golden Apple, Douglas!"