Who the Hell Should I Root For?!

Who the hell should I root for? I asked rhetorically.

Because deep down, I didn’t want an answer.

I didn’t need one.

It’s called life experience, the kind that shatters walls, the kind that relegates boxes to the landfill.

The story began some time in the 1970s, up around Lake Michigan.

That’s when a barrier should have been constructed—let’s just say the foundation was flimsy.

I suppose that’s what happens when the parents are from India and the progeny show up in Milwaukee.

The project was doomed before it started.

There was Ganesh versus Jesus—I chose neither.

There was Marathi versus English—I chose Spanish.

I developed two favorite words: ignore and unlearn.

And that landed me on June 17, 2026.

I was still in the US—except on that day.

My son and I stared at CN Tower, uttered a few words about Drake, and then strolled toward the stadium.

The French signs were expected, of course. I put my six years of study to use, cross checking with the English just above.

Then I focused on the Spanish—it was all around us. And the flags were familiar—after all, we had recently been to Panama ourselves.

Beyond textiles and linguistics, I felt an odd connection to the place. You can call it a canal thing, the Erie in my case.

My son’s band had even covered the Van Halen song (which may have had vehicular and not geographic inspiration).

Heck, any country that uses the US dollar is worthy of a look, i.e. my soccer support.

But then I heard English. Or was it Akan?

The sounds of West Africa are always close—they are, after all, a part of us.

Blues.

Jazz.

We all know the grand places music went from there.

Without Ghana and its neighbors, would I still be listening to the concert band garbage?

Would there be no fufu? Or Gullah Geechee?

Out of my thoughts and into the the stadium, I admired the massive flags of both countries displayed on the field.

Then I absorbed the two national anthems.

Who the hell should I root for? I asked again.

I sat back, smiled at my son, and bathed in the human spirit.

And I watched.*

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*On June 17, 2026, in Toronto, Ghana beat Panama in the group stage of the FIFA World Cup, leaving me elated and heartbroken.