Gana Ghana

Today was a sad day for the US, as we were prematurely eliminated from the World Cup at the hands of a weaker adversary, Ghana. I woke up this morning with butterflies in my stomach, trying to figure out the perfect place to watch the game. I pulled out my handy Lonely Planet and searched for a description resembling, "Perfect spot to watch American soccer. A dead ringer for Finn McCool's." Needless to say, I didn't find it. And since I don't really have a grip on the happenin' gringo scene in the D.F., I settled for the Zocalo, which isn't too shabby for World Cup watching.

So, once again I endured the obligatory patdown, which was a vast improvement from the last one since it was administered by a moderately attractive, only slightly plump policeman. The crowd was noticeably thinner, so I managed to secure a spot fairly close to the largest screen. However, after singing the National Anthem and then screaming "Go USA!" I looked around and realized I was the only person in the immediate vicinity that was cheering for the ole' Red, White and Blue. Kind of awkward. Sad to say, the vast majority of Mexicans were cheering for Ghana. I'm not really sure why, maybe they're still mad we eliminated them back in the 2002 World Cup, or maybe this is just their one, small payback for our militaristic philandering. Who knows.

I quickly scanned the crowd, searching for US paraphernalia. I finally spotted a USA bandana atop the head of a very tall man across the plaza and promptly walked over, introduced myself, and told him that he had a new friend for the duration of the game. He was from Dallas, and will be referred to as such...mainly because I never asked his name. Dallas had gathered a small hodgepodge of US fans, consisting of a couple from Oregan, a guy from San Diego (who, prompted by my Saints shirt, opened with the fact that he played against Reggie Bush in high school), and a shirtless Canadian who had a hard time with English and showcased a violent pelvic thrust as his token celebratory move, so I'm not really sure I believe his story. There we were, Team America, right smack in the middle of hundreds of Ghana-loving Mexicans.

I should probably mention now that I have a small problem with "talking smack" at any and every sports event. Which is humorous because my smack is backed by zero athletic ability whatsoever. It's a pretty serious problem. In fact, as accomodating as Dallas was, I immediately informed him that I could throw a football better than Tony Romo. Which we all know I can't.

So, when Ghana scored within the first seven minutes and the Mexican crowd erupted into ecstatic cheers, running circles around our little group screaming, "GANA GHANA!!" (Ghana wins), I knew things were going to get interesting. And they did. Luckily, I'm a girl and can get away with doing things like punching the man in front of me (he was toothless, he had seen worse days and was therefore very forgiving), or screaming "IN YO FACE, PENDEJOS!!!" when we scored, or starting an Argentina chant (the general consensus is that Mexico will likely lose to Argentina in an eliminating match tomorrow-but hey, all the experts could be wrong). Miraculously, they found my antics endearing. I made lots of friends.

Sadly, it was all for naught as we lost in overtime, 2-1. All I walked away with was an uneven sunburn (only the bridge of my nose, not the sides....and the sides are substantial) and an unfortunate interview with a national tv program taken during the thick of things, forever immortalizing my infamous smack talk in Mexican media history.