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...

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)