I was enthralled by the World Cup championship match between the United States and Japan. Being Asian-American, I found my heart tugged in opposite directions. As inspiring as the American women's play was, it was almost more amazing just to live in a magical moment when all of America was focused on a women's sport--and this wasn't even the Olympics. But ultimately, I couldn't help but feel jubilation witnessing the less talented and decidedly underdog Japanese band of women achieve their historic victory.
I'm a pretty big sports fan. I listen to sports talk radio daily. On days immediately following any notable event in the sports world, I practically disappear from my family, immersing myself in every variety of "post game analysis" on radio and TV, of which interviews with winners and losers are a staple. And yet following Japan's win, nowhere in our entire spectrum of media was there to be found an interview with any member of the Japanese team. The void was entirely understandable given the insurmountable barrier of language, and yet it was so frustrating. "The winners.. the champions... where are they? Somebody let me hear from them!" Thus was my mode of thought around that time.
In this way, World Cup soccer taught me something. We often view our current information age as if it represents a boundlessly and infinitely accessible entity. But we can't forget that even in an increasingly global community, our individual capacities for knowledge will forever be capped by the languages we speak--or don't speak, to be more precise. Even in the internet age, can we realistically ever believe we will be able to comprehend the universes of, say, Arabic music, Indian literature, Cambodian news, or Brazilian comedy? Seen in this light, our perspectives are narrow indeed!
