I generally don’t pick sides in the FIFA World Cup until the very end, but this year I rooted for Mexico, even over the United States. Mexico deserves world-class recognition not just for surviving Donald Trump’s “Mexico’s gonna pay for it” border wall saga and his calling Mexican immigrants “rapists.” The country deserves our admiration for electing a rational, level-headed president in Claudia Sheinbaum. It’s impressive how Mexico has navigated a reckless and abusive neighbor when it is their immigrants and seasonal workers who keep the neighbor economically aloft. Mexico put together a united national team with an amazing fan base and I wanted them to win.
I watched the July 5 match against England curious to see the famed Azteca Stadium, approximately 7,220 feet above sea level. The packed-to-the-gills venue did not disappoint: It had rained heavily in Mexico City during the day and lightning had been spotted above the stadium. The mist that descended was hypnotic, a fugue before the undulating sea of green clothing. I learned from the Fox Sports announcers that the Brits had been anxious about the thin air (England’s highest elevation is 3,209 feet) and facing a massive stadium of amped-up fans. I also learned that Azteca recalled the bad juju of June 1986, when Argentina defeated England there in the quarterfinals.
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