The time I cheered for Iran

During the World Cup, I've been watching soccer as I eat lunch. If I can get past the diving, the bizarre aversion to moving the ball in the direction of the opposing team's goal and the international-language-of-outrage theatrics after ever call or no-call, it's a pretty enjoyable lunchtime activity.

Although today I was confronted with a whole different sort of unpleasantness during the second half of the Iran-Angola match. The announcers had just made reference to disappointment back home with the Iranian team when the Angolans scored, putting Iran down one to nil and staring a result-less World Cup in the face.

I remembered an article I read before the World Cup about the Iranian minister of sport labeling the soccer team a "disgrace" because they colored their hair, plucked their eyebrows and wore make up. At first I had assumed it must be an over-the-top fundamentalist reaction to a little hair gel and stylized sideburns, but when I saw photos of some of the players I actually had to agree with the sports minister.

From the look of things on the field a few of the Iranian players were still plucking and dyeing.

That's when I started to worry. Bad things can happen to soccer players who don't perform. One just has to look to Iran's neighbor and sometime sparring partner for evidence of this.

My own prejudiced notions about the sanity of the Iranian government aside, I don't think any country would be too happy if their soccer team returned home from the World Cup winless, draw-less and a few wigs away from looking like they should be in the desert with Priscilla.

Even though I was more interested in the Mexico-Portugal game, playing at the same time on a different channel, I couldn't turn away. I found myself cheering for an equalizer from the Iranians -- maybe a point could spare the players a terrible fate.

I was cheering for Iran!

It made me feel un-patriotic and creepy -- especially to be doing so when they were up against such an unlikely and enthusiastic World Cup participant as Angola.

But I couldn't stop.

My treachery was rewarded with cracking header off a corner kick. The game was back to being tied. I was relieved. The Iranian players looked relieved.

And kind of pretty.