Franco Catalano

for the first goal.

Because for the second one, I shout in a low voice, I don't know how that exists, but it occurs, while clenching my fist, and by the third Argentinian goal, I just jump and scream, while my colleagues laugh at me and celebrate with me.

The final is on a Sunday while I'm here in Milwaukee.

And the first thing I think when I notice this is I watch all the matches in Chicago.

If Argentina loses, I'm going to blame myself for the rest of my life.

I have to be honest, I have caught the World Cup fever finally.

So I ask a friend that lives in the city what are his plans.

He tells me he is going to watch the match with our first and second generation American Argentinians in a sports bar.

I go there and when I get there, what I see is unbelievable.

Everyone has Argentinian flags, Argentinian t-shirts, everyone is drinking mate, our national drink.

And it hits me.

I miss this.

It's true that I hate some of our national traits, like making everything about life or death, a matter of life or death, but it is part of who I am, my identity.

And instead of thinking about the things that I hate about my country, I should shift focus and think about the comforting facts around it, like that we are passionate about everything.

So I get to watch the final with them.

And as I leave that sports bar after the match, I understand two things.

In first place, that no matter how much I deny it, my culture will come back to me.

And the best thing I can do is represent it the best way I can.

And in second place, France.

Thank you.