It happened when I was watching the Ecuador-Croatia game on ESPN this morning (I think I could pass as a “Non-Violent, Non-Drinking Soccer Hooligan”… assuming that’s not an inherent contradiction…). I didn’t mind the commentary provided during the game, but because of a tragic event that occurred on the field, I came to the conclusion that one of the guys skipped too many classes in Anatomy 101.
During the second half, Croatia took a shot on goal, the ball got deflected and eventually headed towards midfield, then the camera zoomed in on an Ecuadoran player lying on the ground with AGONY written all over his face. (And it was written in team colors, no less…) A replay from a camera behind the net showed the shot, the back of the player as the ball hit him somewhere in the waist area and him immediately collapsing onto the turf.
As the cameras kept switching between replays and the live shot of the Ecuadoran player nursing his injury, the commentator explained that “when you get hit in the stomach, the lower stomach, it just knocks the wind out of you.” However, the attentive viewer should have disregarded that because the player wasn’t clutching his abdomen—he was lying on his back, grimacing and sticking his hand down the front of his shorts. Repeatedly.
And in case that wasn’t enough evidence to prove where the impact actually occurred, the camera showed him again as he was walking off the field under his own power (which I thought was pretty impressive under the circumstances)—he was smiling at the medics as he took a water bottle, pulled out the front of his shorts and squirted some water down into his crotch. That’s not getting hit in the stomach, my friends. Not at all.
But then I thought about it and wondered what the commentator could have said instead. ESPN is generally a family-friendly TV station, so I’m not sure he would have been allowed to say what most guys were thinking: “When you get hit in the nuts with a soccer ball like that, it hurts like hell. My eyes are watering just thinking about the pain he’s in. I hope he’s not expecting to have any more kids in the future. I wonder if he’ll ever walk ag–OOF!! Why did you just elbow me?! All I’m saying is that he’ll probably be pissing blood for a couple wee–OUCH!! Quit hitting me, asshole! You wanna find out how he’s feeling down there? He feels like THIS!! Ha! Suck it, bitch! Huh? Oh, hey there, security guy. What’s up? Whaddya mean, how much have I been drinking? I’ve just been up in here talking about the game—leave those empties alone! I can get a quarter back from the store if I bring ‘em back! Hey, lemme go! What, you wanna know how he’s feeling, too? I can show you exactly… wh-what’s that? It looks like pepper spr-AAAAHH!! MY EYES!! FUCK YOU, ESPN!!”
Nope, that definitely wouldn’t go over very well. Much better to say the player got hit in the stomach, get his quarter back from the store at the end of the game and sleep it off until tomorrow. Then he could wake up, clutch his throbbing head and try to remember if hangovers were covered during Anatomy 101 as well.
