A short while back, in a day not yet lost to memory, the whole world turned its gaze onto a nation that is just making its name in the league of greats in many sectors. But in the sector for which the world was now watching it, this country was already legend.
As the majority (and all the rest) of my readers will have inferred by now, I speak of the recently concluded Fifa World Cup, an event that every four years electrifies the world, and brings together friends (who had forgotten each other) and enemies (who had ignored each other) and, in the brilliance of a quick month, transforms their relationships in fantastic new ways. Records were broken, and new ones created, beginning with the unceremonious unmasking of the legends of whom I’ve spoken as flagrant fakes and… let me not go on that way.
On a smaller magnitude, but in now way with less flamboyance, a derivation of this excellent extravaganza was imported into Satima, crafted by the most ingenious craftselves, as our beloved Andego succinctly conveyed it, and designed to capture all attention without denying the real thing any. Again, the majority (and all the rest, again) of my readers will know by now of what I speak. The Satima World Cup Prediction was devised and designed by men with passion for men with passion. When the idea was floated, everyone was in apporoval. For a tiny cost, whose use I’ll explain later (or maybe not), everyone could compete.
When Brazil kicked off with Croatia, and incidentally kicked into Croatia as well, everyone held their breath. For apart from predicting the world cup, there was the chance of winning. All through the tournament, those breaths which were held were not released, and the ones which were released were those of the ones who lost, the first being the supporters of Spain, and such breaths were never recovered. Tables turned, news was proliferated, jokes were shared (I especially liked the one of Casillas getting the Chinese name Ki Chu Ngi) and tears were shed (I’m not really sure about this).
Anyway, this isn’t a forum to go into the details, for the losses were too horrific to recount so soon after they happened, and the wins too sublime to put in words within the short time I have. But one win I will speak of, or rather one WIN. When Eric Ndoria emerged the winner, everyone congratulated him and was genuinely happy for him.
He was awarded his black and red German jacket at a pomp and elaborate celebration, feted for his chance and ingenuity, having had his fate determined by luck. Cameras rolled, one of them silently took in everything, held by an inconspicuous man in black… But when all the dust started settling (it hasn’t completely settled, I should imagine), all the forty-six losers realised that, indeed, they too, were winners. This is the WIN of which I speak.
A few days ago, new chairs were delivered for the study room. Now you know what the tiny cost was for, don’t you?
Special gratitude goes to Felix Magani, without whom much that was wouldn’t have been. Free of charge, he designed the interface through which the game was played. See it here http://www.keysindicet.com/satimaworldcup/