I’m a bad tourist, maybe that should be the caveat to all of this. It’s not even that I used to self-fund, cutting corners where possible, taking coaches going straight to airports that had me in and out of new destinations before my feet could barely touch the ground. It’s just that I’ve never had much of a love for the outdoors and some generalized anxiety in my gut tends to keep me rooted in place. So I’m a bad tourist.
But how often do you find yourself in another hemisphere? How often do you get to do the “must dos” of visiting far-flung countries like Australia and New Zealand? And how many fans couldn’t make the trip because of the cost? This tournament gave me a rare chance — not the act of covering a major tournament, as I’ve done that three times before — to let people live vicariously through me. So there’s the touristy side those who couldn’t make it missed out on, the sheer experience of the places I’ve been as well as the hustle of covering a tournament or being here as a journalist.
I’m sure there are better people to live vicariously through, or at least more who can reach the top shelf, but alas, it’s me, and this is my World Cup experience.
July 15
AUCKLAND, New Zealand — Wake up in the morning feeling like … nevermind, it’s not…
