I have checked in to the Africa Cup of Nations a couple of times this week. I am intrigued by the steadily growing caliber of play on this rapidly evolving continent. Tonight I scanned the cup final between Nigeria and a country no one has heard of, Burkina Faso, and thought it was a good measure. The play was spotty as might be the case always with national teams who don't train together often. But it was an engaging final. Burkina Faso played with unexpected poise and challenged more than once.
Through it all, though, I found myself captured by the notes of the strangely alien cavalry charge trumpet call blaring in the background. The world has embraced the trappings of our dubious culture--the Wave, the cavalry charge, the chants rooted in rock n roll. For good or bad, we recognize each other's shouts.
