The World Cup is on. Argentina isnt

It’s the most wonderful time of the year, apparently, but on the streets of Buenos Aires you’ll be hard-pressed to pick up on the clima mundialista. The vibes leading up to Argentina’s debut match were most certainly what the youth would call “off.”  Maybe we’re seriously questioning if all the witchcraft carried out in 2022 to ensure a victory was really worth it, given the current state of things. Or perhaps we’re all too busy doom-scrolling on Twitter, half-laughing, half-crying at the fact that Manuel Adorni really expects us to believe him when he says that the reason for his sudden increase in net worth is because he stumbled upon a forgotten pen drive with access to a Bitcoin wallet worth $500,000.  Or maybe it’s hard to be excited about multi-millionaires kicking a ball around when we’re paying our grocery bill en cuotas and having mate cocido for dinner. A recent survey of the doormen in my neighborhood confirms my suspicions: no one can be bothered to care that much when we aren’t making it to fin de mes.   I know, all of this makes me sound like a tremendous Debbie Downer. Forgive me, please, I promise I’m doing my best to get into superfan mode now that the Albiceleste is officially back — and Messi gave us something to talk about with his first-ever World Cup hat trick. Even the Bangladeshis (I’ll never get over how random and how incredible this is, by the way) got back into the groove!  It feels like just yesterday that we were screaming ourselves hoarse and drinking ridiculous amounts of beer in the streets during the last World Cup, hugging strangers at the verdulería and waiting for the 108 with blissed-out smiles plastered across our faces.  Four years ago. It was a simpler time, I suppose.  For a country so fervent about fútbol, it’s uncanny when the craze, the buzz, and the excitement aren’t pumping through the ether. There are bigger metaphorical fish to fry; each new day is an exercise in enduring some new way to suffer under the crushing weight of technocapitalism.  Tired of awaiting the infamous “segundo semestre” to bring some relief, the case of Adorni’s “alleged” corruption feels like a poorly-timed slap in the face. After all, for a party built upon promising its base that they weren’t like “the other guys,” it’s rather ironic (if unsurprising) that they would bungle their holier-than-thou image so disastrously. I mean, have you even seen the waterfall? It’s a diversion tactic so obvious even anti-Kirchernistas are calling for his resignation. That’s how you know it’s bad! To add to the collective bajón emocional, millions continue to mourn the death of Indio Solari, the rock legend that transcended the realm of music to reflect something deeper, more visceral, about national identity. Just two weeks ago, an estimated 250,000 rain-soaked devotees waited in a line nearly 20 kilometers long to pay their respects to their fallen idol; maybe getting jazzed about the World Cup appears to be in bad taste when one is grieving.  It’s certainly a generalization to categorize an entire population as “deeply feeling,” but Argentines’ ability to immerse themselves in a particular emotional state—elation, depression, indignation—never ceases to amaze me. Talk about committing to the bit. I’d even venture that the recent period of grey skies, perma-drizzle, and dearth of sunshine only served to accentuate the mood even more. Emotional chiaroscuro, if you will.  Let’s talk about the real elephant in the room: the World Cup is happening in a country that’s not known for fútbol in any true capacity. Who even does that? Not to mention the border crackdowns and extreme barriers to entry for players, coaches, referees, and spectators alike, which are unlikely to elicit joy of any sort. This year’s tournament makes Qatar 2022 look like a utopic celebration of brotherhood and sportsmanship, which is a sentence I never imagined myself writing. However, at the end of the day, if the Albiceleste keeps playing like this — and Messi keeps reminding us why he is in fact, the GOAT — I can guarantee that 46 million deeply-feeling souls will be ready to believe in miracles one more time. Hope springs eternal, after all. Ahora sí, nos volvimos a ilusionar.