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I’m not proposing to replace or second-guess Ken Silverstein’s commentaries on the World Cup, but when the U.S. team faces the Ghana Black Stars tomorrow afternoon, I’ll find it impossible to root against Ghana. I’ve spent this week in Accra and have really come to respect the Ghanaians and their love of the game. More than that, the Ghanaians are easily the friendliest football fans I’ve ever encountered. My exposure to football mania has included near-death encounters with hooligans in England (Leeds United), rowdy alcoholics at a Bayern-München game, and a screaming, stampeding crowd at the Be?ikta? stadium in Istanbul. Curious sociological experiences, but I can’t say I enjoyed any of them. Many fans seem to view the game as license for alcoholism, anger, and general thuggishness.
But the Ghanaians are without a doubt the most kind-hearted, good-spirited football fans I’ve ever come across. They cheer their team, salute their players, and know them all by first name, but none of this translates into hostility to the opposition. Wednesday night I sat in the bar at Citizen Kofi in downtown Accra, watching the anxiety-provoking game between Ghana and Germany. The Germans were favored by 3:1. The stout Ghanaians stood their ground, however, dominating much of the game and allowing the Germans a single goal. When it was scored a voice behind me boomed, “They’re a good team, let’s give ‘em that. But we’ll learn from them and be better still.” When the game came to a close, the crowd erupted in cheers. True, they had lost, but it was to a fine team, and they’d be on to the next round anyhow—thanks to Australia, which had trounced Serbia, assuring a qualifying berth for the Black Stars.
The Ghanaians may not have the raw talent or the money of their American competition, but they have amazing heart. They deserve a win.
More from Scott Horton:
Conversation — March 30, 2016, 3:44 pm
Joseph Hickman discusses his new book, The Burn Pits, which tells the story of thousands of U.S. soldiers who, after returning from Iraq and Afghanistan, have developed rare cancers and respiratory diseases.
Freddie Gray’s relatives arrived for the trial in the afternoon, after the prep-school kids had left. By their dress, they seemed to have just gotten off work in the medical and clerical fields. The family did not appear at ease in the courtroom. They winced and dropped their heads as William Porter and his fellow officer Zachary Novak testified to opening the doors of their police van last April and finding Freddie paralyzed, unresponsive, with mucus pooling at his mouth and nose. Four women and one man mournfully listened as the officers described needing to get gloves before they could touch him.
The first of six Baltimore police officers to be brought before the court for their treatment of Freddie Gray, a black twenty-five-year-old whose death in their custody was the immediate cause of the city’s uprising last spring, William Porter is young, black, and on trial. Here in this courtroom, in this city, in this nation, race and the future seem so intertwined as to be the same thing.
Minimum number of cats fitted with high-tech listening equipment in a 1967 CIA project:
Zoologists suggested that apes and humans share an ancestor who laughed.
A former prison in Philadelphia that has served as a horror-movie set was being prepared as a detention center for protesters arrested at the upcoming Democratic National Convention, and presumptive Republican presidential nominee Donald Trump fired his campaign manager.
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“Matt was happy enough to sustain himself on the detritus of a world he saw as careening toward self-destruction, and equally happy to scam a government he despised. 'I’m glad everyone’s so wasteful,' he told me. 'It supports my lifestyle.'”