Did you see the World Cup final? Japan, victorious and smitten with their World Cup trophy above, beat out the Americans in an amazing match of wills and endurance. It was very enjoyable game. The US dropped its first three penalty kicks as Japan nailed three out of four to clinch the win.

But if you asked me to break it down for you — the game play, that is — I’d look like a moron.

Here’s the thing: I’ve covered a few hundred soccer games. Tons in high school and college; and now a handful of pro games. I’ve probably watched a ton more. But I’ll never consider myself an expert of the beautiful game. I am a casual fan, not much more. If you were to start a conversation about soccer strategy, soccer rules, or anything of the sort, it’ll likely just hurt my head. I’m that kind of fan.

However, I really hate it when folks think that means you have no right to write about the game. These are the same people that think you have no right to write about their team if you’ve never lived in their city, or some other idiotic drivel. It permeates a jackass culture behind sports — one in which only a select group of people can legitimately comment on the happenings of the world. I admit, to a point, that there needs to be a basic level of understanding to write about certain sports. A general understanding of the rules helps. But the overall arch of sports reporting and storytelling have nothing to do with the minutia of the game, whether that be soccer, cricket, basketball or football. As a writer, if you spend a ton of time explaining the reasons why the New England Revolution switched from a 4-5-1 to a 3-5-2, you’re going to lose the mass appeal of the game. As my colleague Frank Dell’Apa properly analyzes in his own story on the Revs’ 3-0 loss to the Philadelphia Union, the appeal of the game is not about the strategy so much as it is about the two teams’ will and focus. (In the case of the Revs, they’re playing like “schoolboys.”) However, there is space for both.

My larger point on this subject is that there is a reason why editors seek out story tellers and not box score reporters. They tend to provide something outside the lines that expand on the appeal of the game. I would argue that all fans of sport were enthralled by the US women’s win over Brazil because of its dramatic nature. When Abby Wambach headed home her goal in the 122nd minute, it jolted the senses. Instantly, pundits were calling it one of the greatest moments in sports history, arguing its place on the ladder. But nobody, and I mean nobody, stopped to talk about the perfect form Wambach used to deliver that goal. And therein lies my point. There is an inherent drama that sports provide that appeals across all spectrum of fandom. Even baseball diehard Dan Shaughnessy joined in on the love-fest after the US-Brazil game. It strikes chords with people who don’t normally watch the game, and don’t really know the rules. And when they go to work in the morning, it’s all they want to talk about. In the newspaper business, we call them readers. But for those of us in the business of words, we call those people reporters. Because they’re no expert on any sport, but they sure can write about any, if called upon. And that’s a large part of what being in this business means, writing about things that you’re not an expert at, but making the drama come alive in your prose — while not sounding like an idiot.

Balance is key, but a greater understanding of appeal is more important. The X’s and O’s have a place in sports writing, as do all the finer points of any story. But to get lost in them, or depend on them, is amateurish. In fact, that’s easy. Any Red Sox fan could cover major league baseball with that criteria. However, to tie in the drama, the story behind the story so to speak, requires skill that a box score will not help with. And for that reason, I think being an expert on a particular sport means little in this business. But being an expert writer means everything.