MY WORLD CUP QUEST: CRUSHING MINNOWS, ONE AT A TIME

8/32 WORLD CUP TEAMS COMPLETED

FINDING FRIENDS DIFFICULT

The only Costa Rican I could find in Thailand was a professional footballer playing for Bangkok Glass. When I say that I "found" him I mean we became friends on Facebook. When I say "friends" I mean that we went straight from being newly found friends to the not-talking stage. In the click of a friend request button we went from being virtual strangers to being virtual strangers. The only difference was that now I could keep a close eye on his daily food intake and Netflix viewing habits. What a world! He never replied to my message. I had found a Costa Rican very hard to reach.

UNORTHODOX APPROACH

For the first time on my challenge I decided to wing it without a contact and headed for a big sports bar. I sent a message to The Sportsmans Bar and asked them to inform me of the whereabouts of anyone looking even slightly similar to a Costa Rican. I wasn't particularly hopeful. Costa Rica is a small island nation on the other side of the planet and there are tens of thousands of bars and restaurants in Bangkok. But I had nothing to lose; The Sportsman does a Sunday roast. It was a shot to nothing. As we parked the car I received this message "Pop upstairs Brian, got a couple of Costa Rica fans here". Bingo! And so there were. Half of this couple was Thai and she didn't seem to be as vociferous in her fandom as her male counterpart. He was wearing the bright red Costa Rican jersey. This was no bandwagon fan. Over the course of the game he proudly told me where each of the Costa Rican players played their club football from Real Madrid to the English third division to the aforementioned Bangkok Glass. He knew them all. I hastily brought up Paulo Wanchope (the long retired striker), so as to show him my knowledge of Costa Rican football hovers just above nil. He was very forgiving considering my lame attempts. He was going to need more of that patience very soon as Serbia took control of the game. As is now customary for me supporting a team at this World Cup, I watched on glumly as Costa Rica got their ass handed to them by Serbia. The final whistle blew. I rose reluctantly to my feet. I knew what I needed to do next. My body moved on auto-pilot and I approached my new friend. I began tapping yet another shoulder in commiseration.

A HUGE UNDERTAKING

I wonder how undertakers cope with dealing out condolence after condolence each day. Does their empathy wither away? Do they go to acting classes so as to look genuine? Can a human be perpetually in mourning? Does their facial skin wrinkle into a permanent shape of pity and melancholy? After years of burying humans you how do you find the will to live? Are you causing this?

The poor Costa Rican smiled amicably for a photo with me while his soul was slowly asphyxiated inside. He never knew it at the time but as soon as I sat down beside him, the poor fucker hadn't got a chance.

*Join me in my quest. It started here https://steemit.com/sport/@highselfesteem/i-m-going-to-watch-the-world-cup-with-a-fan-from-every-country-in-bangkok-or-sleep-trying and will continue for the duration of the World Cup.

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