It’s impossible to describe my life without talking about football.
I was born and raised in Avellaneda, the national capital of football. Did you know that Avellaneda has the highest ratio of World Cup champions per inhabitant?
In the world, there are only 8 cities that boast 2 World Cup-winning teams: Buenos Aires, Montevideo, São Paulo, Porto Alegre, Madrid, Milan, Manchester, and Avellaneda.
And what if I told you that River Plate and Boca Juniors have also played their home games in Avellaneda throughout history? Four World Cup champions have played or currently play in that city as their home base. There’s nowhere else like it in the world. Football is in the air, played in the streets and in countless neighborhood clubs.
As one grows up, distractions like studies, jobs, and life in general may seem separate from the sport we love.
But for me, football is the way to connect with the real world. It’s the adapter of my life. To conclude, I leave you with the end of the Poem to Football:
“…HOW WOULD YOU KNOW WHAT MUSIC IS
IF YOU NEVER SANG IN THE STANDS.
HOW WOULD YOU KNOW WHAT INJUSTICE IS
IF A BIASED REFEREE NEVER GAVE YOU A RED CARD.
TELL ME, HOW WOULD YOU KNOW WHAT INSOMNIA IS
IF YOU’VE NEVER FACED RELEGATION.
HOW WOULD YOU KNOW WHAT HATE IS
IF YOU’VE NEVER SCORED AN OWN GOAL.
HOW, BUT HOW WOULD YOU KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO CRY,
TO CRY,
IF YOU’VE NEVER LOST A WORLD CUP FINAL
IN THE LAST MINUTE WITH A CONTROVERSIAL PENALTY.
HOW WOULD YOU KNOW, MY DEAR FRIEND,
HOW WOULD YOU KNOW WHAT LIFE IS
IF YOU’VE NEVER, EVER PLAYED FOOTBALL.”