Soccer and politics are the same thing

I’ve never been able to get into soccer.

For most of the world it’s practically a religion, but I just don’t get it. Aside from the World Cup, the sport’s structure is an incomprehensible mess I find completely inaccessible. There are hundreds of teams in almost as many leagues, each competing for countless championships and trophies with varying degrees of prominence. I get anxious just thinking about it.

I’ve come to the conclusion that soccer and politics are the same damn thing.

Like soccer, the American political system is an unintelligible clutter of competitions without clear stakes — at least until the big one that only goes down once every four years.

I’d be willing to give it an honest try if everything was as simple as March Madness’ “survive and advance” methodology. It’s simple and obviously effective, seeing as how it draws the attention of millions every spring who don’t even particularly care about college basketball.

Filling out a bracket is admittedly a bit lower stakes than selecting the next leader of the free world, but I’m convinced voter turnout would shoot up if only people understood where they fit into the process.

Americans can be such a passionate bunch when it comes to both sports and patriotism; the fact that soccer doesn’t even crack our nation’s top four favorites and voter turnout consistently sucks tells me the issue is rooted in nobody knowing what the hell is going on.

Look at the recent Iowa caucus. Republicans and Democrats essentially play in different leagues with separate sets of rules, odd coin-flip tiebreakers and lazy volunteers estimating voting numbers all in a fight for thousands of relatively inconsequential county delegates while the average American voter is left out of the loop, wondering why Iowa is suddenly so important.

The result is a large population of people who consider themselves fiercely patriotic, but also don’t particularly care to vote because of the effort it takes to learn the ins and outs of a complicated system. Is winning Iowa really necessary, or is it just significant because it’s the first state to hold primaries? Is La Liga more prestigious than the Copa del Rey? Why does this have to be so complicated?

By the time November elections finally roll around, those who purposefully avoid basing their entire existence around the moral wasteland that is the political arena are left to seek out those who do understand it for a poorly watered-down synopsis — thus the once-massive popularity of The Daily Show. Despite being biased parody, Comedy Central tends to be most people’s best shot at sort of grasping the basics of American politics.

Just like soccer, people who care to understand the finer details of the process tend to be ultra-pretentious about it. Just like soccer, competitors with huge stacks of money and longtime support are the only true perennial contenders. And just like soccer, everyone seems okay with that, which is just baffling.

The parallels don’t end there. Both FIFA and the US voting system boast largely ignored corruption. Both entities suffer from extreme fans earning all the headlines, giving their respective teams a bad name. Both offer slim odds to anyone that isn’t an annual powerhouse — I’ll let someone else argue whether the left wing represents Real Madrid or FC Barcelona.

It’s jumbled, it’s chaotic, and I have a hard time believing it’ll ever change much. I only know I’m supposed to root for team USA — and I do. But until there’s a system in place that doesn’t amount to political Calvinball, I’ll continue to find it difficult to care.

— Logan Jones is a junior majoring in journalism, and thinks a streaker or two could really liven up these political debates in the coming months. Contact him at Logantjones@aggiemail.usu.edu or on Twitter @Logantj.