A letter to Diego and the players

Dear players; dearest Diego:

I am feeling better from my flu (thanks for asking) and the day of the big debut against Nigeria has come.

Like me, millions of Argentines and fans of the Albicelestes from abroad (oh, boy! You gotta believe me there are plenty out there. I know you know it!), have been waiting for this day for four years.

I am about to live my 7th World Cup as a fan. I guess if you do the maths, you will realise which one was my first. I'm older than that, but the first I can clearly remember is that one I'm referring to. Many of you, our current players, weren't even born back then.

This one, though, it's different than all the others and I wanted to write to you just so you understand how big this is for me.

I'm opening my heart here, amigos.

It's 1 AM here in cold Buenos Aires and I've been up since 9 this morning to watch how a giant beetle was treating an enormous Jabulani like if it was a big ball of excrement. Then I thought to myself..."Oh dear! This surely can't be a good omen for the kind of football we are going to witness in this World Cup!"

Then I watched France v. Uruguay until my eyes hurt and my mind flew back to that immense insect and I silently cursed him.

But all the while I've been thinking of you. Of each and every one of the 23 in the squad and of the man/legend that will guide you from the sidelines in this new adventure that it's just beginning.

You know what's on the other side of that 7-match-long tunnel? Don't you? It's a place called IMMORTALITY.

This used to be a great, wealthy, prosperous country, you know? It ranked right up there with all the major powers in the mid 20th century, before it all went bananas for us. Like you, I never lived in that powerful Argentina of the 1950s. I was only told. I was only able to see some of the remains and to (unfortunately) meet some people who are still thinking we are living in a place situated some 60 years ago.

I was born when the brutal dictators were in charge of our nation and were killing our own people. I know I'm not telling you anything that you don't know. Of course I know that. I mean...I told you some of you are younger than me, but then again, there are a couple among you that are a little older than I am.

I grew up in a decadent, impoverished and punished country that, fortunately, still kept a lot of beautiful traditions and was still inhabited by many brilliant and heart-warming human beings. All of us were hit by inflation, governmental corruption and all sorts of bad news East and West.

It was precisely in the middle of all that mess that you, Diego, you took on a mission and you took us all the way back to the top of the World.

It was through football that we always felt like we never left that elite group of super-powerful nations. It is when the World Cup comes that we couldn't care less if other countries are wealthier or bigger or happier than we are during the previous and the following 3 years and 364 days. At the World Cup, we are up there with the best of them. And the last time we looked down on everybody else, it was mainly because of you, Diego.

My eyes were just 9 years-old and they still did the trick. They left those images imprinted on my brain and they are just there for me to see them again and again and again whenever I close my eyes. Though it wouldn't be bad to add some more images in HD or maybe even on 3D!

Will I ever be able to thank you enough for that, Diego? I think I won't. So I'm thanking you again here.

Unfortunately, just like our country did after that Golden Age of the 1950s, Diego. You too have collapsed after 1986. And man that was some rough landing! The eyes of the world were upon you. Nobody will ever be able to count just how many fingers pointed out at you. How many languages have been used to call you bad names. How many spits you've gotten when you were down and out.

You fought your demons and you made it back. And for that alone, you deserve maybe more credit than for winning the World Cup almost single-handedly. I mean, after all, football was easy for you. It always has been. Life, on the other hand...

And here you are, Diego. With your inexperience as a manager alarming millions (including me), but with that special fire you have inside that burns the most whenever your name and the World Cup are written in the same sentence. And I know you have it, Diego. I see it in your eyes whenever you are on TV. You believe, Diego.

Now you are going to have to learn on the fly how to pass that fire along to your players, Diego.

Those players you finally got to gather and take to South Africa well in advance so you could build up that much-needed team spirit. Because we know they can play football. They just needed to be together, right? They just needed to believe in their strength as a squad and there will be no hurdle high enough to make them fail and fall. Right?

For now, I'm going to leave all the negatives aside. We all know there are some negative aspects, but this is not why I'm here to write this letter to all of you.

I'm here because I can't sleep and because I needed to get this off my chest before it all begins in about 9 hours from now.

I think this is working. I think I feel better now, though I know the pressure will be much bigger when I wake up and I pretend that I'm interested in watching what South Korea and Greece will be doing in Saturday's first match.

Diego, just like your grandson Benjamin (son of Kun), this will be the first World Cup for my 3-month old son Felipe. I know he won't remember a thing about this, but do what you can so his father can tell him he lives in a country that has nothing to envy to those so-called powers!

And finally, this goes just to the players: You know what's the funniest bit of it all? There will be a man waiting for you on the other side of that tunnel I told you about at the beginning of this letter. A rather short man sporting a beard. You will be surprised when you get close to him and you see him wearing the same colours you are wearing.
Something deep inside you will tell you to turn your heads back for a moment to see the face of the man who brought you to South Africa. It will be then that you will realise he is the same one who was also waiting for you in that sacred place. He is already immortal. Are you going to let him down?