As the Germans scored in overtime, some of my neighbors yelped as if they’d been kicked. It seemed everyone here was rooting for Argentina, knew Messi was going to deliver.
This morning, a local futbol team, the Rude Boys, paraded up Alacala and onto the grounds outside the zocalo.
I asked a waiter why a local soccer club would choose words in English for a team name. He said it was to attract attention. They sure did have ours this morning with their parade.
But as soon as 2 pm arrived, the streets (already nearly a ghost town on Sundays) were empty. People were huddled in front of any television they could find to watch the final game, a gripping World Cup battle.
I didn’t think I had a dog in the fight (or a horse in the race or…) until I heard Argentina lose. It was low and full of anguish.
shewhodaresnothing 