Now that the match is finally over and that most of us successfully avoided a trip to the ER (), I thought it would be fun to share a little bit of what it meant to be witnessing a moment in history that entire generations of Argentineans had never got to experience and had only ever heard about from parents and grandparents. It was a dream 36 years in the making and felt every bit as such.
Way before the match even began, there was a sensation in the air that was unlike any other thing I had ever experienced. The ill-fated final match of 2014? Completely different feel, as if we half expected to be losing that one... no, the air was electric here and most of us decided that it was in our best interest to keep "watch" through the night, effectively ditching sleep in order to keep the dream alive - we are quite passionate people, you see.
I will forever remember opening my bedroom window at 4 in the morning and hearing the drums and jumps of a large group singing "Muchachos" (this World Cup's unofficial anthem) eight HOURS before the match even began. Scenes like that were common place across the country and in the very distant land of Scotland, Ireland, Bangladesh, Pakistan, Palestine, Indonesia, Peru and who know where else. We were ready.
The feeling of history being written was so overwhelming that even foreigners and minorities closed shop to watch the match themselves. All the Chinese, Bolivian, Armenian, Italian, German, Jewish and Muslim shops were closed at noon, their owners hurrying home clad in Argentina's National Squad gear. You couldn't even find people on the street at that point and any shop or service that would normally be operative on a Sunday was heavily limited, their workers wanting to watch the match as well.
I'm not gonna describe the match in full because that would be quite silly (and I don't think I can do it justice anyway) but I'll just say that it was such an emotional rollercoaster that you could hear the entire country roaring whenever we scored, and then feel as if the entire human race had become extinct in the minutes following one of France's goals. It was all so tense that barely any messages were exchanged and only Twitter seemed somewhat active, with people raging and cheering whenever the opportunity arose.
Myself? I had to go to bed twice during the match and close my eyes to it, because I felt that my body was gonna give way to the pressure and I was honestly quite scared that I was gonna have a heart attack... I'm not even joking here.
When we scored the last goal and we had just crowned ourselves World Champions, there was a moment of absolutely incredulity... It felt that our party was going to be spoiled at any second, just like it had happened thrice in that same game already. But no, the sudden roar of million of voices raising as one came from everywhere and nowhere at once and I had to go and hug my brother in the kind of embrace one just doesn't really give under normal circumstances. Then, the craziest thing happened... I heard footsteps.
A million footsteps.
Doors were opened and people spilled out onto the streets, completely overwhelmed by the realization of what had just happened and started marching towards any gathering point they could reach in time to lose themselves to this party. Millions of people gathered from the last second of the match to the dawn of the next day, never stopping the celebration. It was beautiful.
And in the middle of all of that, there were scenes I'm gonna take to my grave. Things so emotional that they could only realistically exist in the cheesiest of movies: I saw someone in a wheelchair being lauded like a hero and being handled a drum so that they could take part on the celebration. I saw people hugging complete strangers as they tried desperately to share the emotion that overwhelmed their hearts and minds; I saw countless young couples proposing in the spot and I saw the very best thing this country had to offer: I saw someone walking up to a shirtless poor man going through garbage bags and, without saying anything to him, gifting him the #10 jersey they had been wearing, just for the man to break down and cry on the spot, all whilst the crowd cheered and loved every second of it. I didn't know this country could be capable of such sweetness, but I saw it with my own eyes.
We suffered a lot through the match and throughout the year... but DAMN. It was all SO much worth it.
Way before the match even began, there was a sensation in the air that was unlike any other thing I had ever experienced. The ill-fated final match of 2014? Completely different feel, as if we half expected to be losing that one... no, the air was electric here and most of us decided that it was in our best interest to keep "watch" through the night, effectively ditching sleep in order to keep the dream alive - we are quite passionate people, you see.
I will forever remember opening my bedroom window at 4 in the morning and hearing the drums and jumps of a large group singing "Muchachos" (this World Cup's unofficial anthem) eight HOURS before the match even began. Scenes like that were common place across the country and in the very distant land of Scotland, Ireland, Bangladesh, Pakistan, Palestine, Indonesia, Peru and who know where else. We were ready.
The feeling of history being written was so overwhelming that even foreigners and minorities closed shop to watch the match themselves. All the Chinese, Bolivian, Armenian, Italian, German, Jewish and Muslim shops were closed at noon, their owners hurrying home clad in Argentina's National Squad gear. You couldn't even find people on the street at that point and any shop or service that would normally be operative on a Sunday was heavily limited, their workers wanting to watch the match as well.
I'm not gonna describe the match in full because that would be quite silly (and I don't think I can do it justice anyway) but I'll just say that it was such an emotional rollercoaster that you could hear the entire country roaring whenever we scored, and then feel as if the entire human race had become extinct in the minutes following one of France's goals. It was all so tense that barely any messages were exchanged and only Twitter seemed somewhat active, with people raging and cheering whenever the opportunity arose.
Myself? I had to go to bed twice during the match and close my eyes to it, because I felt that my body was gonna give way to the pressure and I was honestly quite scared that I was gonna have a heart attack... I'm not even joking here.
When we scored the last goal and we had just crowned ourselves World Champions, there was a moment of absolutely incredulity... It felt that our party was going to be spoiled at any second, just like it had happened thrice in that same game already. But no, the sudden roar of million of voices raising as one came from everywhere and nowhere at once and I had to go and hug my brother in the kind of embrace one just doesn't really give under normal circumstances. Then, the craziest thing happened... I heard footsteps.
A million footsteps.
Doors were opened and people spilled out onto the streets, completely overwhelmed by the realization of what had just happened and started marching towards any gathering point they could reach in time to lose themselves to this party. Millions of people gathered from the last second of the match to the dawn of the next day, never stopping the celebration. It was beautiful.
And in the middle of all of that, there were scenes I'm gonna take to my grave. Things so emotional that they could only realistically exist in the cheesiest of movies: I saw someone in a wheelchair being lauded like a hero and being handled a drum so that they could take part on the celebration. I saw people hugging complete strangers as they tried desperately to share the emotion that overwhelmed their hearts and minds; I saw countless young couples proposing in the spot and I saw the very best thing this country had to offer: I saw someone walking up to a shirtless poor man going through garbage bags and, without saying anything to him, gifting him the #10 jersey they had been wearing, just for the man to break down and cry on the spot, all whilst the crowd cheered and loved every second of it. I didn't know this country could be capable of such sweetness, but I saw it with my own eyes.
We suffered a lot through the match and throughout the year... but DAMN. It was all SO much worth it.
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