Daniel Alarcón

I'm Daniel Alarcón, a writer and journalist, and John and I have known each other since we were kids.

My first World Cup was Mexico 86.

I was nine years old.

I watched every game, and I fell in love.

On our new podcast, The Away End, we'll share with you the magic of international football, all leading up to the 2026 World Cup.

Together, we'll find out why, of all the unimportant things, football, soccer, is the most important.

I'm Daniel Alarcón, a writer and journalist, and John and I have known each other since we were kids.

My first World Cup was Mexico 86.

I was nine years old.

I watched every game and I fell in love.

On our new podcast, The Away End, we'll share with you the magic of international football, all leading up to the 2026 World Cup.

Together, we'll find out why, of all the unimportant things, football, soccer, is the most important.

On our podcast The Away End, we'll share with you the magic of international football, all leading up to the 2026 World Cup.

Together, we'll find out why, of all the unimportant things, football, soccer, is the most important.

Our story begins in the early 90s with an orca named Keiko. He's just entering his teenage years, living at an amusement park in Mexico City called Reino Aventura, or Adventure Kingdom. He's not from there, but for the last seven years, a tank in this polluted, landlocked megacity more than 7,000 feet above sea level has been his home.

Our story begins in the early 90s with an orca named Keiko. He's just entering his teenage years, living at an amusement park in Mexico City called Reino Aventura, or Adventure Kingdom. He's not from there, but for the last seven years, a tank in this polluted, landlocked megacity more than 7,000 feet above sea level has been his home.

Before that, it was a marine park in Canada, where he was bullied by the other orcas. Before that, it was a tank in a big concrete building in Iceland, where he was kept for about three years, unable to see the sky. And even before that, it was the North Atlantic, where he was captured and separated from his mom and the rest of his whale pod, probably when he was around two.

Before that, it was a marine park in Canada, where he was bullied by the other orcas. Before that, it was a tank in a big concrete building in Iceland, where he was kept for about three years, unable to see the sky. And even before that, it was the North Atlantic, where he was captured and separated from his mom and the rest of his whale pod, probably when he was around two.

I don't think I really understood how traumatic this could have been until I learned that male killer whales are essentially mama's boys. And not just when they're young, but basically their entire lives. Even as adults, they might swim by their mother's side. They depend on her. A mother orca might catch a fish, bite it in two, and give half to her son.

I don't think I really understood how traumatic this could have been until I learned that male killer whales are essentially mama's boys. And not just when they're young, but basically their entire lives. Even as adults, they might swim by their mother's side. They depend on her. A mother orca might catch a fish, bite it in two, and give half to her son.