I don’t really care about sports. I really don’t. Then why am I so sad?
“Nobody wants to see you cry.” That’s what a taxi driver told me in Ecuador when my father had just passed away. “Go cry in your beer.” I laughed out loud. The taxi driver’s life had been rough. He told me his mother left him when he was still a child. My father had died at 84 years old. There are different levels of suffering in this life.
And three of my favourite teams losing, one after another at the World Cup, is one of them.
My heart was in my mouth when I was watching the Ecuador-Mexico game. Ecuador lost. My heart broke for my parent’s home team, but it also broke because of Mexican fans. The night before the game, they had besieged the hotel where Ecuador’s players were trying to sleep for the game in Guadalajara. I saw the clips all over social media. They blared their car horns, revved their motorcycle engines, and chanted denigrating insults all night long. And authorities did nothing to stop it.
And to think I like Mexico so much. I was prepared to root for the Mexican team but after that performance – fat chance.
My heart lifted again because of Canada. Everyone in the city was thrilled that Canada had made it so far, and Canadians were finally excited by the World Cup.
I watched the game against Morocco, and it was good. Until the goals kept coming in against Canada. My great hopes were dashed by the second goal with so little time remaining. And then Morocco sealed our fate with a third.
By then, my spirits were low. Until I saw the lineup on Sunday: France Vs. Paraguay. There’s something about Paraguay. Many, many years ago, half their men perished fighting for their economic independence against the invading forces of all their neighbours, and the empire. They never gave up. Could they do it now against France? Little Paraguay was playing the strongest defensive game I had ever watched and I wasn’t surprised.
I could feel my life returning as Paraguay held back the French juggernaut, even stopping Mbappé himself, never allowing him an inch of opportunity in front of their iron wall. Paraguay’s game wasn’t pretty. It was brutish, but effective. Until it wasn’t. Mbappé scored a penalty goal against Paraguay brought on by one simple, but lethal mistake.
Goliath prevailed. Poor David and poor me.
Now I am truly done. I am no longer watching the game.
I guess I’m a little angry that the underdog loses most of the time. But there’s 13 days left. Your team may still have a chance to keep you believing.
