This is the start of a 4 part series of my World Cup Soccer history.
Well, June has come and gone. 
I have lived through my 9th World Cup. I remember ABC’s Wide World of Sports in 1970 when Brazil beat Italy in the final in Germany. You know, the scene where Pele scores and jumps into his teammate. I remember the day my Dad was watching it on TV. I don’t remember the details of the game. I do remember my Dad watching it.
In 1974, I spent 2 months in Hungary. I arrived in Hungary about the time of the final in Germany between Holland and Germany. Again, I don’t remember the details. I did go to my first professional game that year, as my Uncle Pali took me to my first Ferencvaros game in Budapest. I think I may even have the ticket stubs from that game somewhere.
He then took me to subsequent professional games while I was there, as the league started in August. It was at a time where we always had August off for the whole summer.
1978 began my love affair with the World Cup. Back then, all of us foreigners would congregate at venues where the games were shown on closed circuit TV. In Michigan, we had to drive to Detroit and watch games at the Masonic temple or across the river in Windsor at the hockey arena. Hungary was in the World Cup at the time. Several of us Hungarians went to watch games.
I fell in love with the World Cup. The fans at the Masonic temple brought their mini-flags and were passionately rooting for their favorite teams. I was hooked. There was the excitement in the game. The edge of your seat emotions that go with that expectation of a goal being scored.
The critics that call soccer boring. They just don’t get it. There is passion like nothing at an American sporting event. World Cup fever is in the blood, not in the conformity of following a winner.
I did not make it to the final in 1978. My Dad and his buddies did. It was a great game. Holland made it to the final again, as they did in 1974, only to lose to the home team again. This time in overtime to the heroics of Mario Kempes of Argentina.
The images of River Plate stadium full to the brim with Argentinian fans willing their team to win the whole thing. The field covered in paper confetti when Argentina scored their goals. The fans going crazy.
I started playing the game in 1976. The 1978 World Cup in Argentina was the event that pushed me over the edge into a life-long fan of the game.
Paul is an Internet consultant and President of Professional Blog Service. Professional Blog Service works with companies trying to beat their competition online using business blogging, social media and search engine optimization to dominate their markets. My interests are in Entrepreneurial pursuits, soccer, music, and travel.
