A Football Passion: A Norteamericano's Love of Brazil and Argentina

I know. You're not supposed to root for both Brazil and Argentina. I can't help it. I Love Brazil. I Love Argentina.

I Love Latin America. The passion, the love of Life, the beautiful culture, the music and dance, the wonderful people. The people who have risen above poverty and difficulty to create a beautiful world.

And I love the idea of Latin American Football. The people who come together through the love of the game. The poor people who celebrate the game. The street kids playing in the narrow roads and back alleys, creating the South American game and with it the modern game, dribbling, short passing, improvisation in the long and narrow, endless mazes of the streets, a world deeper and more real than the polished, aristocratic modern mainstream. And growing up with, and watching as it happens, all the lore and legend.

The emergence of the Latino game in the 1920's to dominate the world, led by tiny Uruguay, at the two Olympic World Championships of the 20's and the first World Cup in 1930. And the legend and lore of the National Teams that followed.

For tiny Uruguay, an astonishing final Championship in the 1950 World Cup.

For Argentina, the legendary American Champions of the 1940's and 50's, the Angels with Dirty Faces. The resurrection of the national style and ultimate triumph- at home in Argentina, no less- in 1978, the emergence of the divine Diego Maradona- and alongside him Jorge Valdano and Jorge Burruchaga- to ultimate triumph again in 1986. Maradona's Goal Of The Century in 1986. The epic story of the 1990 World Cup team, with Maradona and Burruchaga playing hurt and several players out with injuries, to make the final game and come one goal shy of ultimate triumph. And the finale of the modern Golden Age as a Batistuta-led Argentine Team won back-to-back American Cups and the first Confederations Cup.

And Brazil. Rising above dissappointment in 1950 as Pele and Garrincha emerged to bring World Championship home in the 1958 Cup, a 17-year-old Pele scoring 5 goals in the final two games against Brazil's toughest opponents, then the same team rising above Pele's injury to bring home the next Cup in 1962. A brilliant new generation emerging around Pele in 1970 for their third Cup out of four. The fateful 1982 team, drawn into that infamous second-round Group of Death with Argentina and Italy, loosing the group by a mere goal. Romario, the beginning of the Second Golden Age and ultimate triumph in 1994. The emergence of Ronaldo. The 1997 American Cup-Confederations Cup double, and ultimate triumph with Ronaldo, Rivaldo and Ronaldinho in 2002.

To grow up with lore and legend like that, playing ball in the winding streets with one's friends, and then become part of that ultimate triumph- in Uruguay in 1924, 1928, 1930, then again in 1950, in Argentina in 1978 then again in 1986, in Brazil in 1958 and 1962, then 1970, then 1994, then 2002.

The streets are deserted, the entire nation looks like a ghost town as everyone's inside listening to or watching the game. Then final triumph. The whole nation pours out onto the street to celebrate.

Being able to celebrate Life on that level, as the whole Nation comes together, rising above poverty to joy and beauty, all in beautiful, passionate, musical Latin America.

That people can celebrate Life like that is wonderful, and I will celebrate too. Glory to God! Amen.