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On Sport:  El Mundial 2022 November 24, 2022

Dateline—Qatar:  Mexico once again holds its breath, as the Round-of-32 commences with a scoreless tie against Poland.  Welcome to the Copa del Mundo 2022, which, reports are now indicating, was built by slaves from the Indian subcontinent.  But more on premodern Qatar another time.  

The tournament’s nickname in Mexico is El Mundial, because, well, Mexicans love their nicknames.  The captain of this year’s team is the goalkeeper, Francisco Guillermo Ochoa.  His nickname is Memo, and his bushy-haired level-headedness saved the game when he blocked a Polish penalty kick in the second half.

Mexico is favored to advance to the Round-of-16, after which something terrible is bound to happen.  Loyal fans are used to it by now—the blind referee, the magnetic goalpost, the missed header—so we tend to keep our expectations commensurately low.

As Vanessa notes, at the heart of Mexico’s problem is its manifest inability to finish.  The number of exquisite set-up passes, foiled at the last moment, invariably builds to a crescendo before evaporating into nothing but a collective groan.  “Who wants to score?” asks one exasperated commentator, “Who wants to finish?”  This is a trick question, sort of like how many Frenchmen it takes to defend Paris, which is unanswerable since it has never been attempted.  In the same way, because Mexico has never finished El Mundial as champion, there are no finishers on this team.  Yet.  

In Trinidad, meanwhile, the only soccer news of interest in TTGuardian concerns one of the country’s more notorious citizens, Gentleman Jack Warner, who is currently residing in Port of Spain, fighting extradition to the United States for fraud and money laundering charges.  At home he faces an angry public that holds him personally responsible for the demise of TT soccer.  

As assistant head of FIFA, a worldwide futbol mafia, he managed in 2010 to organize over 30 Caribbean nations into a singularly critical voting block, one that influenced the ultimate decision to award El Mundial 2022 to Qatar.  As El Todo Mundo now knows, of course, that decision was reached through blatant bribery.  Jack Warner actually arranged for the incriminating cash payouts to be distributed at the infamous Port of Spain Hyatt.

The man’s meteoric rise was well timed.  Crime in Trinidad became especially organized in the ’90’s, as the government was in crisis, and Port of Spain was the closest international hub for the Columbian-Venezuelan cocaine trade.  This coincided with the monetization of international soccer, explicitly linking youth football with corporate brands.  Sales and public relations became paramount.  Enter Jack Warner—armed with the characteristic calypso cadence of a smooth-talking huckster, the Trini man did what Trini men in power do best—promise paradise for everyone and keep it all for himself.  

Unfortunately for Jack Warner, the checks to finance his paradise were wired from Zurich through banks in New York City, which lead to Warner’s indictment.  The new Attorney General of TT seems disinclined at this point to halt Warner’s extradition.  As Trinis like to say, the shameless operator is  “all skin teeth eh laugh.”

The Mexicans have no goat in this political fight, for they understand perfectly that FIFA is corrupt, as are all powerful organizations.  The evidence is everywhere.  They are too fatalistic to be hopeful of some different outcome.  Nor are they likely to point fingers or name scapegoats or call the FBI.  Instead, they will play the beautiful game with gusto, they will graciously accept inevitable defeat, and they will have a grand celebration regardless of the final score.  And that is because the Mexican never plays the victim card.  Nunca.

Oh wait, the player in green is down on the turf, and he is writhing in pain.  His contorted face pleads for our sympathetic support.  This may be a broken leg, I am afraid, or worse.  Call a stretcher.  Fetch a can of miracle spray.  But no, wait, he is suddenly ok.  He is up and running again, seeing that the blind referee is not paying attention.  I have never seen such a fast recovery.  Nunca.  

Pero Nunca.  In the sweltering Qatar stadium, a fanatical cheering section defies the boredom of a scoreless tie, waving tri-color flags and plastic clappers, dancing, and screaming the lyrics to a favorite Peruvian Cumbia standard, called Cariñito:

“Lloro por quererte Am C

Por amarte y por desearte C G Am

Ay cariño, ay mi vida F C F C

Nunca pero nunca E Fmaj7

Me abandones, cariñito” C G Am

Los Hijos del Sol      

I cry for loving you,

For loving you and wanting you.

Honey, oh, my life,

Never but never

Abandon me. 

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