Leave it to Leonor #97

This week, I am thinking about the World Cup. I can still remember being in Queens when Argentina won in 1986 and learning some very inappropriate chants, waking up crazy early to watch the games with my Grandfather in 2002, sitting in a New York Times conference room watching Argentina lose in penalty kicks in 2006, hosting friends for multiple games in 2010 (the first year that I was called a soccer bully) and of course, 2014. Sometimes I still can't believe this statement, but in June 2014, I traveled to Brazil to the World Cup. The journey began over a year before when my friend EQ and I talked about it. At the time, it seemed like an impossible dream, but by December, things got serious. We were exchanging emails about matches and flights. Ultimately because EQ is a *boss*, we got tickets to five matches across three cities during the first two weeks of the tournament. Since I was working at a travel magazine at the time, I was responsible for finding us hotels in two cities. I started a dedicated instagram account. Once there, I wrote a few posts about it: this piece about the first days and our first match, followed by this one about watching Argentina on TV in Brazil and our first US game, then this one with the third game of our trip (Japan v. Greece), and finally this one about one of the top 10 moments of my entire life. Seriously. This is not hyperbole.

I do not remember this photo being taken:

Due to weird internet things, they never published my final entry about the USA v. Portugal game that we went to in the rainforest in Manaus, so here it is below, unedited and four years late: 

June 22nd

Yet another early morning flight takes us from the southern city of Belo Horizonte to the northeast part of the country - Manaus, located in the Amazon. We added this one last leg of the trip when my friend got tickets to the USA vs. POR. We will be in the city for about 12 hours. Basically, a really long layover with a very important soccer match in between.

We land on time and quickly head over to fan fest, an open air festival by the water where anyone with interest in soccer can participate in activities and way watch the games on a giant screen.

We take the bus to go to the center of town and to Teatro Amazonas. It is a beautiful and cool. Literally, cool. The humidity outside is 97% and the sun is beating down. It is a welcome respite. We don't have much time before the game, and we pick up a few souvenirs before heading to the stadium. There is a 1 km security perimeter around the stadium, and we make the trek with thousands of excitable fans.

The air inside the stadium is thick, but it didn't stop the fans from pulling out all the stops - including us. We all do another round of face paint and tattoos. We carry our "I believe that we will win" sign.

The crowd is equal amounts of USA supporters and Portugal supporters. Just as many people cheer for Portugal's star, Cristiano Ronaldo as all the Americans boo.

Portugal scores in first five minutes, but USA responds with a goal of its own. When USA goes up 2-1, it's easy to forget that our stripes are becoming pink blobs on our faces. Team USA comes painfully close to winning but Portugal scores in extra time and the crowd deflates. The fact is, a draw is a not a great outcome, but they played a good game. It just means that they have to pull out all the stops against the tough German team on Thursday.

Alas, I'll be watching that game from New York City, as my time in Brazil has come to an end. My next sports pilgrimage is more of the "go to an Argentine neighborhood in Queens" variety. This has been to the trip of a lifetime and I would be remiss if I didn't publicly thank Erik Quarfordt for making the magic happen by getting us tickets.

See you soon New York City!

I watched the remaining games at my desk at work or at a bar nearby. I watched the final at a restaurant in Brooklyn. The tournament did not end well for me or my team. They put up a good fight and the ending was heartbreaking. Although I've only been to the one cup, I'm insanely having a hard time imagining one that I am not attending. There was never a chance that I would go to Russia. Plus FIFA, always a corrupt organization, has become increasingly difficult to support in any way. 

There is no doubt, that despite my many many ethical and moral reservations, I'm already being swept up in the madness. I've warned my coworkers for weeks about my Bruce Banner/Hulk persona when it comes to the World Cup, but I have a sense that they think I am exaggerating. I'll let you know how this all plays out. The bloom may be off the proverbial rose, but that didn't stop me from wearing my Argentina jacket today, it certainly won't stop me from actively rooting against Brazil, or cursing the Germans. 

Are you watching? Who are you rooting for? 

​This week in reading. . .
I absolutely adored Arbitrary Stupid Goal by Tamara Shopsin, a strange and perfect New York love letter.