I am going through some SERIOUS World Cup withdrawal.

Yes, I miss the excitement of soccer, the crowding around the TV whenever a player got close to the net and the shouting GOOOOOOOOOOOOL if the ball went in, but mostly, I miss the magic and hope these kinds of events bring to my life.

That, and the GORGEOUS players.

When I was a kid, even though I never played organized sports, the summer Olympics always gave me an irrational feeling of maybe, in four years, that could be me up there with a gold medal.

Then, two years ago, I was hard pressed to find an Olympian who was older than me. I was 24 going on ancient and realized that I would never make it to the Olympic games. Not because of my complete lack of athletic ability (that’s just a minor detail), but because I was too old.

Now that Luki is here, my hopes and dreams are back! And a few nights ago, before the final, Ton Ton and I were watching a documentary about the players who had scored in the big game. They mentioned Pelé, who was 17 when he scored his first World Cup final goal. And I said, “17?? They must have changed the rules since then.”

“What do you mean?” responded Ton Ton.

“You have to be 20 to play in the World Cup now,” I said. “I looked it up. Luki won’t be able to star for the U.S. National Team until the year 2030.”