Futbol in Guatemala

To Kristin’s consternation, at any given time, day or night, you can find at least four soccer matches on cable. We get two ESPN stations, but aside from an occassional Yankee game, all they broadcast is soccer. While I am still partial to English league play, it’s fun watching the Guatemalan and South American leagues, along with every Real Madrid match—past and present—ever played!

From my office window I can see one of the medical universities. The live music from their parties enters our rooms unhindered. In fact, I could chuck a stone from here into its parking lot on a good day, we’re that close, even though the baranco separating us drops at least a hundred feet, and nearly straight down. I believe there is a small creek at the bottom, but I’m not sure. Anyway, when Guatemala was playing Costa Rica in one of the World Cup qualifying matches last month, after scoring their first goal, I heard simultaneously the commentator belt out the world infamous “GOOOOAAAAALLLL!” while an explosion of cries rushed over the baranco into my bedroom, then fireworks shaking the sky for the next five minutes. It was a culminating event for me: a new country, a new house, the excitement of the match all of Guatemala was fixated on errupting on television and outside my window. I only wished I had had someone (Todd Warren for instance, who understands) to share it with. Instead, I drank alone to Guatemalan futbol, celebrating, no, tasting, with one first-half goal, the game an entire country eats, sleeps, and breathes.