Pan American Games, Toronto 2015: Match 1 vs. Trinidad and Tobago

I should have learned my lesson. Blogging after about 4 months of silence leaves a lot of holes to fill in, which is why I'm going to write a series of posts about my experience at the 2015 Pan American Games in Toronto, Canada, as well as a summary of the months leading up to the competition, so as not to bore you with one long novel.

Another issue is the order. Should I share about what's freshest in my memory or should I write chronologically? I hope you can bear with me as I work towards the best format, which may very well be neither one option or the other but actually a blend of the two. To say my blogging skills are rusty would be a severe understatement... So please bear with me through this ice-breaking post.

In my last post, I shared about my return to playing in February after ACL surgery in late July 2014 (almost exactly one year ago today), but much has happened since then. I earned back the starting position at River Plate, played in my second Clásico against Boca Juniors which ended in a 0-0 draw, and got the call up to train with the Argentine Women's National Team as of March to prepare for the Pan American Games which were held this past month in Toronto.

When I first began brainstorming for this post, I thought it would be interesting to talk about how despite the obstacles and struggles along the way, I was finally able to reach my goal of representing Argentina in an international competition. However, thankfully I saw the light and realized that my struggles and obstacles honestly pale in comparison to those of some of my teammates and of many players from the other teams at the tournament. So, I'm going to spare you my whining/"humble-bragging" and instead hope give you an insider's view of women's soccer in Latin America and the Caribbean.

One of the best aspects of the Games, besides the feeling of walking onto the field in front of a good-size crowd (the only sold-out match was the final between Colombia and Brazil, but Canada always drew impressive audiences too), was having the opportunity to share and compare experiences with players from other countries. Even though I wasn't able to speak to every team (I didn't get the chance to talk with players from Ecuador or Canada- which has a youth/women's soccer system similar to that of the U.S.A.), I was able to talk with players from Trinidad & Tobago (T&T), Mexico, Colombia, and Brazil.

Since the first three teams listed were in our group, I'll let the order of the games determine the order of the posts. I'll start with T&T, our opening match. The final result was an unfair 2-2, due to poor refereeing (we had a goal called back for offside which on the replay was very clearly a legal goal and the second goal scored by T&T was in the last minute of stoppage time on an invented free kick)... Even so, despite the result, it was a good start for a team which had not played any international friendlies in the months leading up to the tournament and had only been working with the current coaching staff since March 2015. The result, however, is less interesting than what the Trinidadians told me.

When I asked one of the coaches about the status of women's soccer in his country while waiting in line for breakfast one morning, he told me that in general it was not good, BUT 2015 was the pilot year for a professional women's league in the country. Later, I had the chance to talk to one of the most experienced players on the Trinidadian team, Ahkeela Molon, who played college soccer in the United States and then went on to play professionally in Iceland and later in Sweden before returning home to join the newly formed league and to train with the national team. While she didn't share much about the levels of player development, more specifically about youth divisions for women, she did talk about her salaries at various clubs and with the national team.

The conversation actually began with a series of questions from her side, "How much do you earn in Argentina? What clubs do you play at? How much does the national team pay you?" When I told her the sad truth regarding the "pay" at River Plate, she couldn't hide the look of shock on her face and the automatic question which followed "What the heck are you doing in Argentina?" I had told her that we aren't actually professional, but at River we receive a "monthly" stipend which averages around 800 pesos (less than 60 U.S. dollars), varying slightly depending on player performance, practice attendance, etc., but for this year we've only been paid through March or April.

She then asked what living costs were like in Argentina, and I explained that they were much less expensive than in the United States, but the stipend from the club doesn't even come close to covering costs; it's more like a small help which comes every once in a while. Logically, she assumed that the club was a small one since she had never heard of it, but when I showed her a picture of the stadium, one of the outside and one of the inside during a Superclásico, the look of shock dissolved only to be replaced by one of disgust. Ahkeela couldn't believe how a club as big as River Plate could not afford to invest more in its women's team.

SIDE NOTE: *I don't even want to imagine her response if I had told her that as of this year the club has retracted any form of medical coverage for the women's team, refusing even to pay for or provide the medical exams necessary for clearance to participate in competition... More to come on this later...*

She said that her club paid roughly the equivalent of 800-900 U.S. dollars per month while also covering housing, food, and travel expenses. However, the key difference between Argentina and Trinidad was the source of the salary as well as the number of teams in the league. While in Argentina the "salary" or "stipends" for players are determined and covered (or not) by the clubs, in T&T the money comes from the national government. In Argentina, however, there are currently 18 teams in the "official" league, in T&T there are only 5-6 teams in the professional league, a significant difference in terms of how many players are on salary and other general costs to be covered.

Her questions then turned towards the national team because surely it had to be better than the situation at the clubs... While it is better, it's not by much. During the months leading up to the tournament, we received a daily stipend of 140 pesos (approximately 10 U.S. dollars) to be paid at the end of each week and while traveling we received a daily stipend of 230 pesos for a total of just under 5000 pesos (approximately 350 U.S. dollars) over 3 weeks. Some players who had been on the squad since the ODESUR competition last year had been receiving a monthly scholarship of around 4500 pesos from ENARD (National Entity of High Performance Sports), the organization connected with Argentine Olympic sports and performance, a scholarship which will be up for reconsideration in August since women's soccer does not have another olympic-related international tournament until 2018.

Again our explanation was met by surprise as Ahkeela exclaimed that no one on the Trinidadian team would have even traveled for such poor pay. When they had faced similar situations, they went on strike and refused to board the airplane until an agreement was met and their federation responded to the players' demands. Now, it was our turn to be shocked. The idea of refusing to board for insufficient pay seemed completely foreign and impossible to apply in Argentina. At River, the players considered refusing to play until the medical situation was improved, but we never carried it out for fear that the club would just get rid of the team entirely to cut costs, and similar fears with the Argentine Football Association prevent us from carrying out such a method of protest.

Even though my knowledge of women's soccer in T&T is limited, it seems as though strides of progress have been made since last year's CONCACAF World Cup Qualifying in October when the Trinidadian's volunteer coach, a legend in U.S. women's soccer, Randy Waldrum, was forced to ask for donations via Twitter to cover the team's food and housing costs since the federation had sent the team with only 500 U.S. dollars and no training equipment for the duration of the team's stay in the United States. The appeal for help initially led to an angry response from the T&T government and soccer federation, but it might have been the necessary wake-up call to invest and provide more support for the growth of the sport with the foundation of the professional league.

I'm all for learning and adopting ideas from other countries which have been proved to work, but it's still early in my "investigation" into women's soccer to draw any sort of conclusions. Let's wait until we hear about a few more countries before deciding which ideas could be applied to el fútbol femenino in Argentina.

In the locker room before our opener against Trinidad and Tobago

Long-Distance Support: Copa América Femenina 2014

September 11th was the opening day of the Copa América Femenina 2014 in Ecuador. For those of you who don't know, it's the South American Women's Soccer Championship, almost more importantly though, it's the qualifiers for the 2015 Pan-American Games, the 2015 Women's World Cup in Canada, and the 2016 Olympics in Rio de Janeiro. In case I wasn't clear enough, it's a BIG deal.

The format is completely different from men's World Cup and Olympic qualifying which are separate events. Men's South American qualification is drawn out over months of play where each team plays each other twice, once at home and once away. The men's Copa América is more for bragging rights than anything else. For the women, it's a brutal and brief tournament, with no room for error. The ten teams of the South American Football Federation (CONMEBOL) are divided into two groups, Group A and Group B. This year, you could say the split wasn't too even. Three of the top four finishers of the last Copa América in 2010 were drawn into Group B: Argentina, Brazil, and Chile, which are joined by a strong Paraguay and a not-so-strong Bolivia. Group A is made up of Colombia, Ecuador, Perú, Venezuela, and Uruguay; Colombia is the only team of that group to have qualified for a Women's World Cup while the others are still up and coming. Only the top two teams of each group move on to the knockout round where the winner of one group plays the other winner to decide which teams will face off in the final on September 28th. The first and second place finishers qualify directly for the World Cup while the third place team must play a play-off with a team from CONCACAF (The USA's federation). As the host nation, Brazil is already qualified for the Olympics so only one spot remains (if Brazil finishes outside the top two, only the first place team qualifies). The entire top four qualifies for the Pan-American Games.

After losing their first game against Chile 0-1, the Argentine women redeemed themselves with two solid wins, thumping Bolivia 6-0 (with a hat trick from my friend and River Plate teammate Mariana Larroquette) and holding off a resilient Paraguay 1-0, which has kept them in the running to finish in the top two of the group. Their hopes have been especially helped by a 2-0 Brazil victory against Chile on Thursday night, which also gives Paraguay a slight chance to make it through. If Argentina wins its last match, which will be against the ever-powerful Brazilians, they have a great chance at going through, though their fate still depends on the score of the other game on the last day: Chile-Paraguay.

Well, I don't want to bore you with all the details about Argentina's chances of classification, but I did want to point something out. Not even one of Argentina's games has been broadcast on television, not even online. It's truly something CONMEBOL should be ashamed of, and there's no other way to say it. The teams participating in this tournament—I'm going to focus on Argentina since I know most of the girls—deserve the support of their countries. I would be willing to bet that 99% of Argentina doesn't even know the tournament is going on right now, yet during the men's qualifying for the World Cup in Brazil, we can be sure that not only did 99% of the country know it was happening, but it also knew Argentina's status and actively followed the progress of their national team. The only ways to follow the women's games is by listening to a radio transmission or by social media; both of which are torture.

Nervous doesn't even describe how I feel each time Argentina plays. During the game against Chile, I almost tore all my hair out—okay, I may be slightly exaggerating, but I did consider it once or twice...—and the 1-0 scoreline against Paraguay kept me anxious for the entire 90 minutes. Supporting the team long distance, with extremely limited information, is not for the faint of heart. Maybe I would still suffer watching the games online or on television, but at least I would be able to come to my own conclusions about the game and not only have to believe what someone else thinks about each player's performance. I think I already scared my parents a few times celebrating a goal, growling from frustration, or yelling about a missed shot or a save by the opposing goalkeeper.

I admit that this post is a little all over the place, without a well-defined path, but I think it's a good representation of the transmission of information (or the lack of it) regarding this tournament which will decide the next four years for each national team participating. If you get anything out of this, let it be my support for the Argentine women. We're with y'all (sorry, a little Texan just came out...)!

VAMOS ARGENTINA!!!!!  

ps. I didn't forget about my promise to talk about the importance of soccer in Argentine culture... That discussion will soon arrive... I did, however, want to warn you that my next post is completely (or mostly) unrelated to soccer, but is all about my personal life, or my love life if we're trying to be precise...

Football and Friendship, what more does one need?

After reading my last post, it’s very possible, and even more so for those of you who don’t play soccer or have a direct connection with women’s soccer, you have been wondering why the heck does this girl care so much about soccer? Why does she get so excited about a sport that, even though it is the world’s most popular sport, at the end of the day is just a game?

I could tell you it’s because of the competition, the adrenaline pulsing through my veins when I make my way onto the field, shake hands with the opponent and wait anxiously for the referee’s whistle to signal the beginning of the match, the emotion which takes over after a spectacular save which leaves the opposing fans in silence after they had started to cheer just a second too soon, the feeling of pure joy after winning a championship, a clásico, a hard fought game. I could tell you it's because of the life lessons soccer offers such as hard work, dedication, healthy lifestyle, punctuality, patience, and sacrifice. I could even tell you it's because of the recognition which comes with being a female athlete, but then you'd really realize I would be lying.

I'm not saying that those are not valid motives, nor that they do not contribute significantly to my love for soccer, but none of them is the main reason—I recognize that love often cannot be explained by reason, but sometimes it can, as in this case. If my love for soccer was for any, or even all, of the reasons listed above, I would have stopped playing years ago; I might not have even finished playing out my four years of college eligibility. No, if it was for any of those reasons, I would definitely not be writing this blog, living in Argentina, and playing at River Plate; I would most likely be in medical school somewhere in the US, which my parents might have preferred, but that's another story... Anyway, why am I saying all this?

This past weekend, my best friend came to visit me, another player who, like me, is not yet ready to hang up her cleats and leave the game behind. We met at my first college, the University of South Florida, where I studied and played for two years before transferring to Rice University (no it's not named after the food...). We weren't close friends from the start; it took a little while for us to realize we had a lot in common: our faith, our way of thinking, goals, values, sense of humor (okay, I would like to think that, but the reality is she's way funnier than I could ever hope to be), among many other things, but on the field, the situation was completely different. She was our starting defensive center midfielder, was named captain her freshman spring, and was a consistent figure for the team throughout her four seasons while I mainly maintained a marginal role, on the sidelines if you will, as the backup for our ridiculously athletically talented starting goalkeeper. Despite the differences in our college soccer careers, we became friends, and, since then, our friendship has continued to grow. I consider her my sister, a blessing from God, and we are united by an intimate bond which I'm sure will last a lifetime. 

Well, all this to say that, in my opinion, what makes soccer so special are the relationships which are born and cultivated through it. I use my best friend as an example but I could tell you countless stories of other footballing friendships and relationships which have influenced and molded me in some way.

I remember goofing off with my high school soccer teammates at practice and on road trips, hanging out with my sister who was also on the team and realizing she was actually not as dorky as I had imagined but really one of the wittiest girls I've even known (don't get too cocky while reading this, Vanessa...).

I remember how at Rice, despite having a miserable soccer career and experience—easily the worst two years of soccer of my life—I met friends, professors, and mentors who inspired, challenged, and loved me and continue to do so today.

I vividly remember taking off from the international airport in Buenos Aires in 2011, leaving behind my second time training with the Argentine Women's National Team. I can picture the scene exactly, looking out the window at the endless city lights illuminating the pitch black with tears rolling down my cheeks, not because of the disappointment of not being able to continue training with the national team due to complications and delays in the citizenship process but because of the pain of leaving the girls behind, especially not knowing when, or if, I'd see them again (now there are a few I see too often at River... I'm just kidding, I love them and they are a huge blessing in my life).

Even more recently, it's impossible not to mention the support my teammates at River have given me since my injury through messages, hugs, and a even huge banner held before the first match I had to miss. I know I can count on them through the whole rehabilitation process until I'm back on the field. They're my millonaria sisters ("millonario" is a nickname for players and fans of River).

It's moments like these which come to my mind when I think about soccer, even more so than images of games won or lost, than the fleeting feelings of frustration or joy, than memories of innumerable training sessions and matches. Friendships are the essence of soccer, and I thank God for having given me the opportunity to meet and learn from so many amazing people through this beautiful game.

Missing my teammates, can't wait to celebrate with them on the field again soon! (photo credit: Guillermo Larroquette)

What it means to play soccer as a woman in Argentina... Straight from the horse's mouth

Well, after a year and a half (a little more if we’re going to get all legalistic about it) of talking so much about myself, about my life, about my knee, about my rehab, about my musings and meditations, I’m tired of hearing about me, and I imagine you are thinking the same thing. So, today I’m blogging a little differently, I’m going to let some other voices speak, let them tell about what they see and what they live. If you’ve read past posts of mine, you most likely already know what I opine in regards to women’s soccer in Argentina, if not, I’ll provide a quick recap of my thoughts and observations.

Women’s soccer is a sport which is surprisingly underappreciated in a country where the men who play professionally receive so much recognition through wealth and fame. As children, in physical education classes, in recess, and even in their own backyards, the boys are always given a soccer ball and the girls... a doll. A girl who plays soccer is a rarity, an odd specimen among Argentine women. Often, when people find out you, as a “nice young lady,” play soccer, they are left momentarily speechless and stare at you with a look of surprise and astonishment, which takes a little while to fade.

 “But it’s such a violent sport!” they protest.

 “Aren’t you too feminine to be a soccer player?” they ask.

“I would never allow my daughter to play soccer. No, she’ll play a much more elegant and less manly sport, like field hockey,” they declare, as though you had asked for their opinion and as though field hockey were somehow non-violent when essentially it’s soccer played with wooden sticks and a solid plastic ball more than capable of breaking noses, to which my cousin can testify as a former victim of a field hockey ball.

During my short playing stint in Argentina, I’ve been able to observe how women’s soccer is a true counterculture. Despite cultural and social norms, players continue to fight against the current, not necessarily in search of recognition and acceptance but instead they fight for their own space where they can enjoy the sport they love and where more and more girls will also have the opportunity to participate in such an important aspect of Argentine culture.

photo courtesy of Guillermo Larroquete

A few days ago, it occurred to me that maybe I don’t know everything it means to be a woman playing soccer in Argentina (I know, crazy right? But even so, it did cross my mind...), and I began to ask myself... How can I better understand women’s soccer in Argentina and how can I transmit a clear and accurate representation of something which in many other countries just isn’t seen? That’s when I got the idea to consult the experts, the players themselves. Luckily, it wasn’t too hard to find my little guinea pigs, my (lovely) teammates at Club Atlético River Plate.

So, I asked them, “What does it mean to play soccer as a woman in Argentina?” I admit that my question was deceptively simple. Despite being composed of so few words, the answer required deeper reflection and consideration due to the ambiguity and open nature of the question, which left lots of room for interpretation. I like to think the underlying complexity of the question was what made some of my teammates take longer to respond, but I have a creeping suspicion that they were probably doing their best to ignore my inquiry as I have quite the reputation as the annoying girl who asks existential questions when all anyone really wants to talk about is what they ate for lunch.

photo courtesy of Guillermo Larroquete

Anyways, while I sit here sipping mate (see prior posts for an explanation of this highly-caffeinated traditional drink) trying to bring a piece of Argentina to Yanquilandia, the USA for those unaccustomed to the cultured Argentine vernacular,  I’ll share with you my translation of the varied responses, some longer than others but all incisive and perceptive, of my wise fellow “millonarias.” (Millonarios is the term used when referring to players or fans of River Plate due to the clubs original association with the Bourgeoisie of Buenos Aires. The nickname stuck throughout the years, however, despite its vast popularization and recent financial crises.)

Luana Muñoz (defender): Being a women’s soccer player in Argentina means giving a lot of effort, loving what we do, the word sacrifice stands out above everything else. Complete sacrifice, nobody gives you anything, on the contrary. Most of the time it’s fighting against the current, knowing that most likely nobody is going to recognize anything you do, but it doesn’t matter; pure perseverance, that’s what it’s about. Despite all the beatings (excessively) we face along the road, nobody nor nothing stops us, that’s the way it is here. We know we can grow, it’s purely and completely on us to do it, change starts from within.

Micaela Sandoval (forward): Playing women’s soccer in Argentina teaches you to fight for your dream, to overcome obstacles, and never to put your head down. I, as a women’s soccer player, have complete confidence that one day we will receive what we deserve. In women’s soccer, one can see the true love of the game, the passion for the ball, the exertion of pure heart, and the sacrifice down to the last breath. Honestly, I feel proud to play soccer and even more so to play in my country, Argentina.

Ludmila Manicler (forward): Love of the art. Sacrifice and, for many, leaving a ton of things behind. And even though it’s amateur, we play it like professionals.

Ayelen Lagos (forward): Love, sacrifice, happiness, and responsibility... giving everything for soccer and to be professionals, not for the money but to be faithful to this love.

Carolina Morcillo (defender): Women’s soccer in Argentina is breaking “assumptions that women can’t do things.” It’s sacrifice and passion.

Florencia Ferrero (forward): Playing soccer in Argentina is all sacrifice, it’s setting a ton of things aside. It’s giving so many other things away just because we love what we do. For us, it’s simply a passion. We don’t do it for money or for any other economic motive. We love what we do.

Mariana Larroquette (forward/midfielder): Sacrifice, the thrill of trying to achieve objectives in the few years we have to play since we aren’t professionals.

Florencia Salazar (defender): Well, for me, playing soccer in Argentina is beautiful and even more so at the club where I am, but it comes with its difficulties! Even though here they don’t see it like they do in other countries, one can tell that it’s growing! And that is thanks to the sacrifice and effort of the players and the coaching staff because they take it seriously! And they leave behind many things to be able to train and grow! I believe the true soccer can be seen in women, where there are no business interests! There is no money to get in the way because the women play with heart, leaving everything on the field, defending the club’s crest, and enjoying it, which is the best part!

Mercedes Pereyra (midfielder): And for me, I don’t know what it means, if I do it it’s because I love soccer and because I know I make my parents proud.

Karen Spiazzi (defender/midfielder): Women’s soccer in Argentina is completely amateur, which the girls do for the love of the game, dedicating their time, leaving many things behind, even leaving their families in many cases because they travel from the interior of the country to the capital to achieve their dream. It’s a big sacrifice, but it fills your soul.

Vicky Pinat (midfielder): For me, it’s playing for the love of art, it’s a passion in every way because it is played without receiving anything in return other than satisfaction and enjoyment; it’s really about what it’s worth to play the game, not for money but for what it makes you feel. It’s playing with heart.

Anonymous: Soccer is the reason why I sacrifice daily to improve as a player and as a person even though we have to leave many things behind despite it being an amateur sport.

Carla Brown (the best position combination... goalkeeper/forward): Sacrifice, passion, and exertion.

Eliana Figueroa (defender/midfielder): Being a women’s soccer player is part of a passion and at the same time a beautiful game I love to play with a team, where one participates in great experiences. One learns to wait, to overcome oneself, to be consistent, to persevere, to have good habits among other good things. Women’s soccer in Argentina is about personal sacrifice and the resulting benefits, which sometimes come in the form of a great game or the opportunity to play at another club, but always knowing that it’s from the heart, that we can’t live off of it but even so, day by day we go to sleep and wake up thinking about soccer. We enjoy it a lot, that’s what it’s all about.

photo courtesy of Guillermo Larroquete

It's a post-op life for me... Two weeks out from ACL surgery (Week 1)

Slight preamble: in the next posts, I will be talking quite a bit about my recovery process from ACL surgery, but I will also try to reflect some about other aspects of life since, thank God, life does not revolve around our physical struggles.

As of two weeks ago, I can say I'm an official member of an elite club I never wished to join, the "Jock Joint Surgery Club", (yes I just made that up, which explains why the name's not particularly clever...).

Thankfully, week two has been nothing like week one... My friends who had been through the same operation and rehab warned me about the highs and the lows of the whole process. One moment you're flying high—not from the painkillers (an alternating combination of narcotics and ibuprofen)—and the next you hit rock bottom. I just hadn't expected to feel all those emotions during the first week of post-op.

Day 1, while I was conscious at least, I felt great, thankful to be out of surgery, thankful for a successful procedure, thankful for the amazing care I received from all the medical staff at the Texas Institute for Surgery. After returning from the hospital, I was still under the power of the anesthesia and spent most of the day sleeping. If it hadn't been for my mother waking me up every hour and a half or so to do the exercises which had been prescribed by the physical therapist at the clinic, I would have slept all day and probably all night.

Speaking of my parents, I cannot thank them enough for how they took care of me when I was unable to care for myself, bringing me food, water, and making sure I took my medications at the right times. They made sure I followed the doctor and the PT's instructions regarding the use of a couple interesting post-op machines, the ice-machine, which I had to use constantly, and the continuous passive motion (CPM) machine, which I had to have on for a total of 8 hours a day, though I had a love-hate relationship with each, but mainly love with the ice... My parents, however, didn't love the ice machine as much as I did since every four hours or so they had to change the ice in order to ensure that the water which flowed into my ice pack around my knee was cold enough to actually make a difference, which included waking up every night around 4 a.m. not only to add more ice but also to release me from the CPM machine and give me more meds. (Needless to say, both my parents and I were thrilled to return the machines to the clinic once the first week of post-op was over).

Day 2 and day 3 I was slightly more active. Though I still spent most of the day in bed with my leg elevated, I was able to do more exercises and also could notice progress in my quadricep strength, extension, and flexion—granted, I followed the PT's instructions "to a T" and tried to do as many sessions of my exercises as possible throughout the day, which included straight leg raises (SLRs, quad tightening to improve extension and activate my quadricep muscles, ankle pumps for increasing blood flow through my lower extremities to prevent clotting, and heel slides to work on flexion).

I was very blessed to have had very little post-op pain, only during the afternoon on day 2 did the pain become more than a dull throb and only lasted about a half hour. The downside to the pain management medications was the constant fight with grogginess and the desire to sleep in the moments I was not doing my exercises. That tendency to doze off was highly frustrating as I'm not a huge fan of napping and had been hoping to use the down-time in order to catch up on some reading. Let's just say that in the first 3 days post op I only made it 20 pages in to Tolstoi's War and Peace, which, if I hope to finish the great novel before I reach middle age, is not a reasonable pace. (I'm happy to report that after last week my reading speed increased significantly and am now about 300 pages through Tolstoi's masterpiece, though I'm still struggling to keep all the princesses, princes, captains, counts, countesses, and other characters straight...)

My first post-op week would not have been complete without a few mental breakdowns, which should be interpreted as depression accompanied by a river, or maybe more like a stream, of tears. After being so accustomed to independence and high activity levels, spending a week in bed completely reliant upon one's parents does not come without its frustrations. Walking around on crutches, verrryyyy slowlyyyy, transitioning to try to learn to walk normally again, the occasional twinge of extreme pain as one tries to move too quickly. At one point, I thought I had pulled my hamstring when I almost tripped on a chair, had to catch myself with my bad leg, and felt a nice little pop in the back side of my thigh. Looking back, it was probably more like the feeling the doctor had warned me about before surgery regarding a sharp pain in the hamstring which is nothing to be worried about as it is mainly the muscles trying to heal themselves around some of the post-op scarring, or something to that effect (since they used a hamstring graft).

My lowest moment actually came on the stationary bike around day 7, which, looking back, actually seems quite overdramatic and slightly comical. The frustration all started when I was trying to get on the bike, attempting to get the foot of my operating leg into the strap on the pedal, unable to control and bend my leg. Once I somehow managed to accommodate my foot, I began to try to pedal and was incapable of doing a complete revolution, something I never imagined I would go through. As I sat there, rocking the pedals back and forth, back and forth, reaching one extreme point of flexion and going back to the other, I began to cry, cursing everything that had happened, questioning why I had to get injured, why I had to be so far from my boyfriend for so long, why the dumb rehab process had to be so long... Luckily, no one walked in during my breakdown, and I was able to recover slightly before running into any family members (I say running figuratively, obviously, as I will not be allowed to run until 3 months after surgery). I am happy to report first that my feelings of uselessness and frustration have subsided since that moment and second that as of day 12, I have been able to do complete revolutions on the bike, both forwards and backwards.

I won't bore you with the details of the rest of week 1 as each day was fairly similar to the one preceding it, with only slight increases in activity and improvements in my knee's mobility. Week 2 was much better as I had my first follow-up with the doctor, who was very pleased with my progress as far as my extension and flexion were concerned (according to the PT, week 1 is essential for regaining complete extension, more important even than flexion which can be improved later on, but if the patient does not achieve complete extension in this period, it is very likely he will never be able to completely straighten his knee again and may even require a second surgery) and had my first two in-clinic physical therapy sessions.

Since this post is quickly becoming very long, I will leave details regarding week 2 for another post and end with some photos... Also, if you've been through ACL surgery and rehab, I'd love to hear about your experiences...

Right outside the clinic, not-so-bright but very early, I was the first patient of the day at 5:45 a.m.

Waiting to be anesthetized even though I'm so tired I already look drugged...

Post-op chillin' with the CPM and ice-machines

Not sure if I knew where I was when this photo was taken...

Hanging out with my buddy Charlie after surgery

Working on flexion with heel slides on day 3 (happy to report that I am already past 90 degrees)

CPMing, Mate-ing, and trying to read War and Peace

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING IMAGES ARE SLIGHTLY GRAPHIC...

Changing my dressing for the first time after surgery, since then all the stitches have been removed, except the ones from the longer incision which will dissolve eventually. (got some nice swelling going on there...)

Day 5 post-op, even more swollen and got some nice bruising going on in the shin area.

Brasil decime qué se siente... Argentina returns to the World Cup final

The streets are silent. Not even the occasional bus speeding past the apartment interrupts the vacuum of sound. The only cars on the street have been parked long before in anticipation. It feels like Sunday afternoon at the end of a holiday weekend, except it's Wednesday evening. For almost 3 solid hours, the silence would persist, only once was a half-hearted shout for goal heard which was subsequently quenched by an offsides whistle. The entire nation's attention was held captive, mostly by choice, by Argentina taking on the Netherlands in the World Cup semi-final in the neighboring country of Brazil (the term "neighbor" is not to be mistaken for friend, however, which, if ever in doubt, was clearly evidenced by the 7 shouts for goal which echoed throughout Buenos Aires during Brazil's own semi-final match, or rather fiasco, against European-powerhouse Germany).

For 3 hours, international conflicts, financial instability (25% inflation and falling national reserves), unreasonably high crime rates, family issues, health problems (ACL tears and upcoming surgeries...), opposing ideologies, any non-fútbol related concerns were put on hold, which is not to say there were no arguments or shouts of frustration or joy during the game, as in any major sporting event, it was quite to the contrary...

"Sabella! What the heck are you doing? You're seriously making a double substitution right now? And you're taking off the two guys who were just involved in our only goal scoring opportunity in the last 20 minutes? He actually wants us to lose. Oh, and now you're putting on a guy who's in the twilight years of his career? Great, just great..."

"Calm down, the guy knows what he's doing. He's the national team coach for a reason, isn't he?"

"Of course he's there for a reason. The same reason anybody gets to be anywhere in AFA. He's friends with the rest of the football mafia-types."

"Just shut up and enjoy the game! We can still win this! Even though the Dutch are looking a bit more dangerous than us right now..."

"Penalties? Are you kidding me? My heart can't handle this anymore!" (Which was true for the 2 Argentine men who died from cardiac arrest while watching the match)

Some prayed quietly to themselves, some crossed themselves incessantly, others turned the other direction or covered their eyes while peeking through their fingers, but everybody went silent as the first Dutch player stepped forward to take the first kick. All of a sudden even the Argentine goalkeeper's (Sergio "Chiquito" Romero) harshest critics went silent and began to cheer him on in their hearts then out loud and uncontrollably after he made the brilliant save on the Dutch center-back's poorly taken penalty attempt. Screams and shouts of joy echoed against the walls of the apartment buildings lining the streets of Buenos Aires, but as Argentina's star, hope, "Messi"as, walked from half-field to the penalty spot, silence once again reigned supreme and each person resumed what they had been doing before the first kick. Despite the Dutch Ken-doll goalkeeper's attempts to intimidate little Lio, he took his penalty decisively, sending the young blond diving in the wrong direction. The celebrations resumed where they had left off after Romero's save until the next Dutch player prepared to take his shot, and so forth until Argentina's Maxi Rodriguez scored Argentina's fourth and decisive penalty sending the "Albiceleste" to the World Cup finals for the first time in 24 years, since Maradona had led the team to the ultimate stage in Italy only to lose to the same rival this 2014 team will have to overcome on Sunday.

I'm getting ahead of myself though, nobody in Argentina was even thinking about Sunday's final on Wednesday night. As the rest of the Argentine team sprinted toward Romero and Maxi Rodriguez to celebrate the win, all of Buenos Aires headed to its windows and balconies to do the same, singing and yelling and cheering. Within minutes the streets began to repopulate as cars and pedestrians alike made their way toward different meeting points in the city, the Plaza de la República, the Plaza de Mayo, and other important intersections. In a chorus of honking horns and hoarsely screamed songs, the country joined together in celebration. My parents, my sister, and I couldn't help but join in. We sang along as well as we could, making up the parts of the songs we didn't know and screaming along with the parts we did know, which as the night went along became more extensive. Flags and jerseys waved and swirled overhead, arms flailed, guys and girls alike ran arm in arm (some even skipped along) while cheering and singing, it was the closest I've even been to witnessing so much joy together. All the main avenues of the city were blocked off to automobile traffic and were turned into pedestrian walkways. For the first time ever, the chaos of cars and people didn't lead to cursing and fighting. When pedestrians would cut in front of slowly moving cars, instead of being insulted and threatened as would happen in normal circumstances, the drivers would respond by honking the horn in tune with whatever song the crowd was singing at the time, and the passengers would join in with the cheers while hanging out of the windows and out of the sunroof. It was unlike anything I'd ever seen.

We finally made our way along with the crowd to the Obelisco where already thousands of people had gathered. We stayed for a little while to enjoy the celebrations, but after a little while decided to head back home before things got too rowdy (my injured knee would have made it difficult to run in case a fight or another sort of disturbance were to break out...). As we walked back, the crowds kept coming, an eternal parade of bliss made up babies in strollers, children on shoulders, teens and young adults, middle-aged men and women, and even elderly folks from all different social backgrounds joined together, if just for a couple hours, to relish in the excitement of Argentina's return to the World Cup finals.

(In an upcoming post I'll talk a little bit about why the World Cup and soccer can inspire such a celebration in Argentina)