I heard once, I can’t remember from where, that the greatest measure of your time remaining on this planet was in how many more World Cups you could reasonably expect to witness before death. Instead of saying “I am 30,” you could say “I hope to see 12 more World Cups.”
That struck me as a reasonable philosophy.
Birthdays start to come and go with an increasing desire to make less of what starts to seem like a doomsday countdown, but the World Cup — with its quadrennial rarity — stands out as a month-long celebration of the best of our outward reality.