Men around the world (some women too I’m sure) were gathering in small groups, in large groups, at homes and in pubs, with beer or hard liquor, watching game after game.  Rooting for their national teams, their favorite players.  Cussing and making fun of the others, the enemies.

In Israel it was short lived.  After a few press conferences in which the head coach made statements like “we have never been more prepared”, and “this year with the current line up of players, we are on our way to the World Cup for the first time since 1966″, followed by a few games in which Israel lost to countries that can’t even spell “Soccer”, we were out of the competition, the head coach our of a job, and countless Israeli men short of money and big on beer bellies.  For Israel, this scenario has been spelling the World Cup for years.  Big statements, small games.  Big mouths, small results.

Not for me.  I expected nothing and that’s precisely what I got.  I haven’t watched a single game.  I barely read the score on the news a couple of days later.  Overhearing the big shots on the train, and their deep analysis of the game, the players, and the “disgraceful errors” made by the coach, the “amazing mistakes” ruled by the referee, I had all the information I needed.

And then, suddenly, June arrived.  It was a surprise really.  May hardly ended, and there it was, June, and the South African World Cup of 2010 was on its way.  Israel wasn’t there.  But in our defense I would state that many other countries didn’t make it to the World Cup.  (Later I would learn that making it to the World Cup and actually showing up to the games are two different things.  See the French team for example.  They made their way to the World Cup, but never showed up to the games).

And there I was.  Anticipating the whistle.  The signal for the games to begin.  The World Cup.  What an amazing event.  Only once every four years.  What a wonderful show of human sportsmanship, teamwork, solidarity, strategy and tactics.  I felt lucky to be alive, and to be the owner of a large screen LCD TV with full HD capabilities.  Really large.

I sat on my American Comfort brown soft leather armchair, put my feet up in the air, took a handful of sunflower seeds, and made sure that the Heineken is within the reach of my hand.  I was all set to be excited, to be entertained, to be in the game.  And then I remembered.  It hit me like a lightning in the middle of the summer.  Like Mozart playing in the middle of a baseball game in the heart of Minnesota.  In the winter.  It’s boring.

I almost fell off the chair.  What the hell was I thinking?  Twenty millionaires, each ten wearing expensive colorful uniform, with two other wearing ski clothes standing in the goals.  Another black and yellow guy standing in the middle of the huge grass court, pointing fingers like a senior manager in some hitech company and whistling all the time, and rain.  The millionaires keep running around, chasing a ball, kicking each other particularly in the feet and then immediately denying the kick (which by the way they repeat, slowly, one time after the other almost every time), spitting and sweating, holding each other’s shirts, pants, feet and hair.  Sometimes, not very often, one of them actually makes it all the way to the other side, and successfully enters the ball in to the other team’s goal.  In which case the yellow guy usually comes close, and says something like “offside” or even simpler, just reaches to his invisible pocket and flashes a yellow or red card, followed by a big fight not only on the courts, but also by some older men wearing suits on both sides of the court.

The players run around and as soon as someone comes close they twist their faces and fall on the grass holding one organ or another.  At first you think the game is over for the guy, and that the murderer will be indicted shortly.  Then he runs again, slowly, and you see clearly that the other guy had nothing to do with it.  Strange.

Ninety minutes later I realized that I wasted another two hours on watching a bunch of sweaty men running around a grass court.  The funny thing is, that an hour later there’s another game, and I watch that one too.  And another one.

Amazing this Soccer game.  And then it hit me again.  Soccer develops tolerance for boredom.  If you are strong enough to watch the World Cup, you are probably strong enough to sustain almost anything.  Long Live the Mondial.  And may we live to see and sleep through many more.

Super Size Me opened my eyes to the fact that a Big Mac meal should actually take care of my entire calorie intake for a day.  And I wasn’t even talking about the fat and sugar content.

However, once my eyes were open, I felt that I should and must practice personal responsibility.  For myself and for my children.  In terms of civil liberties, I would fight for McDonalds right to serve their fatty, possibly addictive, fattening foods to whoever likes to come between the golden arches.  By the same token, I would fight for my right not to eat it and not to feed it to my children.

Back to the Israeli campaign.  The Israeli campaign suggests the following:
Whole brown rice cakes with 3% cream cheese yields 157 calories per 100 grams.  Mac Royal (which I think maps to Big Mac in the US) yields 154 calories per 100 grams.
Whole brown rice cakes with 5% cream cheese yields 171 calories per 100 grams.  A Mac Royal meal with regular fries yields 185 calories per 100 grams.
It gives a few more examples, all on half page ads on the weekend edition of Yediot Aharonot, the largest newspaper in Israel.

According to the official Israeli McDonalds site, a Mac Royal alone yields 495 calories.  This number suggests that it weighs roughly 320 grams (154*3.2).  According to the official Israeli McDonalds site, a Double Mac Royal, Super Sized Fries, a Large Coke, and a Chocolate Ice Cream Sundae yields 1676 calories

Now, I took the time to seek out the calorie content of whole brown rice cakes (374 calories/100 gr), 3% cream cheese (81 calories per 100 grams), and 5% cream cheese (100 calories per 100 grams).  In addition, I found that a rice cake weighs roughly 8 grams (18 units per a 140 gram package).

Here’s how to get the true comparison.

In order to stay within the parameters McDonalds itself set in the advertising campaign, I would want to calculate how many rice cakes with how much cheese would I have to consume in order to get the 495 calories in the Mac Royal, and the 777 calories in the Mac Royal meal with regular fries.  You can find similar McDonalds nutrition data in many web sites, here’s one: McDonald’s USA Nutrition Facts for Popular Menu Items.

We could take a few routes.

Lets start with 200 grams of 3% cream cheese (162 calories) and about 12 rice cakes (336 calories) .  Or we could go with 200 grams of 5% cream cheese (200 calories) and 10.5 rice cakes (294 calories).

We could take the same route for the 777 calories found in the Mac Royal Meal with regular fries.
We could start with 500 grams of 3% cream cheese (405 calories) on top of about 13 rice cakes.  Or we could go with 500 grams of 5% cream cheese (500 calories) on top of 10 rice cakes.

Another example would be the Fruit Trix Cereal which offers 394 per 100 grams, and 3% fat milk, which offers 57 calories per 100 milliliter.  A box of Trix has 480 grams (a little over 1 lb).  Three quarters of a box of Trix (360 grams) yields 1418 calories.   One would have to eat that with a pint of milk to get to the Double Mac Royal, Super Sized Fries, a Large Coke, and a Chocolate Ice Cream Sundae calorie content.

Let me ask you a simple question: would you actually sit down to a meal of over a pound of cream cheese and 10 rice cakes?  Would you watch you child eat it without saying a word?  But let me top it off with the following: go figure how many containers of cream cheese (no matter 3% or 5%) and how many packs of rice cakes would you (or your teenager kid) need to eat in order to cover the 1676 calories found in a Double Mac Royal, Super Sized Fries, a Large Coke, and a Chocolate Ice Cream Sundae?

The tradition of the family is to first throw some money on the problem.  In the same manner when trying to lose weight we first get a year’s subscription for the best gym and the most expensive personal trainer.  We end up seeing none nor the money.  In any case, a few days later, off we go to buy a pair of bicycle.  That solved, we realized that we didn’t get the means to lock the bike outside.  We ended up keeping it home.  And then the first set of headaches came.  Foe a few days Dorit was walking around the house complaining about a new odor that gives her headaches.  Turned out it was the bike.  We needed to get that lock.

Saturday morning, May 8, at the opening bell, Dorit and I were both at the local Ace DIY store in Zichron Yaacov.  Fifteen minuets later we were the proud owners of a brand new bicycle lock.  We got back into the car, out of the parking space, made a left to exit the mall, and then Dorit remembers one thing, I only remember being hit on the left side of the car, driving a few yards more and coming to a stop.

Dorit says that I saw the guy starting on my left, spat out a “Holy crap, this guy is going to hit us”, and turned to the right to avoid the impact.  She says that my scream alerted her to hold on tight to her seat.  As I said, I only remember being hit hard on the left, my head hitting the top left of the car, right above the driver’s side window, and driving a few meters till the car came to a stop.

We both got out.  My door was pretty much rearranged and had a deep impact.  The guy who drove into us, the owner of the old and beaten Fiat, lost the license plate, but the damage was clearly less than our Ranault Megane.  There was some screaming and yelling on the Fiat’s driver part, enough for my wife to call the police.  The police refused to show up.  They said that if there’s no bodily injury, no Emergency Services on the scene, then all we need to do is exchange insurance policy numbers and go home.  Which we ended up doing.

At that point, my head felt sore at the point of impact.  Right above my left ear.  My right shoulder was also sore.  I was happy to be alive.

I looked up on the web the nature of side impact accidents, and the following was the best description I could dig up: “A side impact collision occurs when the front of an oncoming vehicle strikes the side of your vehicle. This is also known as being t-boned. Most of these incidents occur at intersections as the result of a failure to yield at a stop sign or red light”.  Also, “The seriousness of side impact collisions depends on several factors, including the speed and weight of the oncoming vehicle, and where that oncoming vehicle collides with yours” (side-impact-collisions).

A few hours later, apparently as expected, the headache became more general, and wasn’t restricted to the left side where the impact was.  My right shoulder started throbbing, and so was the right side of my back.  It was time for the ER.  My wife insisted, I complied, and we went to Hillel Yaffe Trauma Center.  A surgeon checked for open wounds (I would have known if I had any, but he checked nonetheless), and an orthopaedist sent me to get X Rays, which turned out OK.  For the whiplashes effects, the headaches and the backaches, I was promptly asked to rest for three days.

Friends, acquaintances, anybody.  Please pay attention when you drive.  You may be the best driver in the world, you may have dozens of years of experience.  You still have only one pair of eyes, one brain, and two hands.  Drive safe, drive carefully, Live Long and Prosper!