Last Saturday we went to Boston to see Argentina play Venezuela.
If someone has told me a couple of years ago that not only I'd be at the stadium watching a football (soccer) game live but that I'd be traveling more than 200 miles for that, I'd call you crazy.
I grew up with a dad who's been a huge fan of soccer. He'd watch it all the time and in those moment no one could disturb him. No one! He even attempted once to teach me to play soccer but when I broke my thumb catching a ball while being a goalkeeper, he gave up. Plus, Russia was never known for its female soccer teams, it was mostly a sport for men to play and for some women to watch. I was never that woman until I met my husband, who is Argentan, and when I saw how Argentans love their soccer team and soccer in general.
My first initiation was the World Cup 2014 when I watched Argentans gather at an Argentan bar to watch the games. They sang, they danced, they cried. And it was intoxicating.
Two years later, I'm here at the New England Revolution Gillette Stadium wearing a shirt with a No. 10 (Messi), eating hotdogs and screaming Vamos! Messi! Higuaín! Romero! Argentina!