Two hours before the match that would define the Qatari champion began, Buenos Aires was like the animal that contracts before attacking its victim. His whole body trembled for the same feeling; Jubilation depended on concentration and this surpassed the suspicion of the moment to come.
The victim was not France, but that feeling opposite to happiness, and pride before the captain of the team, Lionel Messi. The world seemed to agree that he deserved to reach the title of world champion, that his genius should be rewarded.
In Argentina happiness had doped most of the people. They hugely celebrated the victory against Croatia and since then their overflowing happiness has not diminished; we just had to wait if the feeling was strong enough to overcome the results of the game on Sunday at noon, Argentina time.
In the streets and avenues, on the sidewalks and in the shops, the national team shirts abounded, the faces smeared with colors, the same in girls as boys, children or the elderly. There were announced street closures, supermarkets that worked until noon, less flow on public transport. The cars honked their horns as a greeting, flags came out of the windows and one or many voices always sang the same thing: “Boys, now we are excited again, I want to win the third, I want to be world champion, and we can win Diego in heaven.” to see Lionel rooting for him…”
As I am used to touring the city by bicycle, I was able to see all this. The first persistent symbol I found was that of the Urquiza standard-bearer. This is how I have put a man who, since the round of 16, every game day entrenches himself at the base of the monument to Justo José de Urquiza. While the stone hero and his gallant horse are up there ready to confront history, he flies his national flag for hours, as if it were inexhaustible in his sixty-odd years.
The Bosques de Palermo area is the most agitated. The City Government set up two huge screens and by the time I ride my bike past about 15 kilometers there is an enthusiastic crowd. People jump or go looking for a place to settle down, without fear of the sun, which is violent at this time of year. Luckily today the weather was slightly pleasant, the opposite of what happened in the quarterfinals.
The city then experienced a kind of torpor concentrated in 40 degrees of thermal sensation. The three Argentine goals against the Netherlands were duly celebrated on the balconies, but immediately afterwards the neighbors went back into their air-conditioned apartments. After the match, which was violent partly because of the arbitration, that sky was covered with dense clouds and it began to rain while the celebrations took place.
Today there are clouds, but they pass at full speed in search of the Andes. Not even the forecasts spoke of complications beyond a persistence of 26 degrees, a partially covered sky, an easterly wind and, at night, a waning quarter moon. “Every time something important happens here, nature seems to respond,” my wife told me that day of the quarterfinals. Today, everything was to be seen.
In front of one of the screens in the Bosques de Palermo, three women were selling plastic ears colored like the flag. Remember Messi’s gesture in the game against the Netherlands. A gesture that reminded Riquelme, of the injustices of soccer. “Van Gaal, you don’t have to be mouthy, you don’t have to be arrogant,” one of them tells me. Their names are Claudia, Verónica and Cynthia. All three are wearing the ears they sell, along with vuvuzelas and flags.
At 2 minutes to 12 in Doha it had already been decided that France would serve the ball. He had been back for a while, and he was watching the screen with some Cuban friends. “Ladies and gentlemen, the end of the world begins,” he said to himself on television. At minute 23, a foul on Di María led to a goal by Messi, on whom all the eyes of the world were on. The neighborhood was drowned by a common cry. To the balconies all, but then all back inside. Nothing is known until the game ends.
Di María finally scores the second goal and the scene described is repeated. Family on the balconies, shouting, and people rush inside because they don’t want to miss out on the details. From the first minutes the numbers favored the Argentines: more possession of the ball, more attacks. Second favorable time. “Oh”. “Ay, ay, ay, ay”. Minute 80, penalty. France scores. “Argentina is like that,” says someone. “Everything here is So”. Another goal for France. Tragedy, suffering to the end. Silence, a grave. The neighborhood on the floor.
The Argentine fans have stopped singing, it seems that their team has lost when they are barely tied. That has it against Argentina. There is no reason to be sad, if they are still on equal terms and extra time comes. “Cheer up, damn it!”
We went out onto the balcony with drums and trumpets. The rest of the block follows us. We managed to lift the spirits around. We infect them. But how does this end? to wait A goal. Wouldn’t it be because of our enthusiasm? That, that. Everybody outside, again, screaming until a penalty kick puts France back on equal footing with Argentina. “This goes to penalties,” says someone.
And the penalties arrive, and we won on penalties and I can’t describe what happened in the neighborhood. Certain personal states produce a collective isthmus that disrupts everything. When what happens with football happens, people surrender the depths of their sensitivities, and do not hide it. From the first triumphs of Argentina in this World Cup we began to show friendly relations between neighbors, reciprocal gestures, shouts after each victory, glances, words.
As one would say in Cuban, “there is no drama” in Argentina when it comes to showing passions. They are stronger than anything else, no matter how bad the economy is or whatever it is that hits and traumatizes this society; what is important is that feeling, the now, the joy that will be lasting whatever happens next.
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