Added to that enjoyment, my boss brought in her Brasil flag and jersey to hang in her office. She’s feeling homesick, a little. We went by the dollar store the other day to get streamers, and she decorated her ceiling with green, yellow, and blue tassels.

I, on the other hand, typically have a little dilemma when it comes to the World Cup. See, I have two favorite teams. Fortunately, if I’m just going for colors, I’m pretty safe – red and white cover both – but if I want a flag, well, then things get complicated.

However, this year, Croatia didn’t make it to the Cup. And I’m sad about that, but relieved that I won’t have to have torn loyalties again. Instead, I can focus my attention on my other favorite: England.

The other day, someone asked me, “Why England?” And it caught me a little by surprise. See, I can tell you the whole story of why I love Croatia. In fact, I’ll include that story at the end of this post. But I don’t quite remember why I like England.

Maybe it’s the red and white. Since I went into sixth grade my school colors have included some form of red and white. Perhaps, subliminally, I’m drawn to the shades.

Maybe it’s St. George’s Cross. I’ve always loved the legend of St. George and the Dragon. I’m still waiting for my brother-in-law to have time to actually make the bronze miniature of the scene he once described hoping to make about 14 years ago.

Maybe it goes back to Beckham. I definitely became more aware of England when Beckham played for them, and I still argue that there’s no one more enjoyable to watch on set plays than the man who can “bend a ball” like that.

But the school color concept could be shot full of holes, probably, if I tried. And St. George and the Dragon doesn’t seem to really hold up as an argument for liking a soccer team. And Beckham’s not playing this series, and there are other players who I’ve always liked as much or more than him.

So when I was asked, “Why England?” I had to dig a little deeper to find my answer. It struck me with surprising clarity when I finally came upon it. “I think it goes back to Hong Kong,” I said. “I did live in a British Territory.”

I often tell people that I’m Chinese on the inside. My time in Asia and my family’s love of the continent has shaped who I am. But maybe a little part of my inside is English, too. It’s the part that thinks “rubbish bin,” or spells “favourite” and “behaviour” with a “u.” And actually, it’s the part that remembers pausing on the sidewalk to watch a rugby game or cricket match at the school down the street – and yes, the part that stood by fences watched a football match out on the pitch.

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Yesterday, I was sent a link to an article on the idea that “Football is War,” and it reminded me of some of the reasons I love Croatia. See those here.