"Some people are born lucky, others born in Uruguay” was the most generous graffiti I recall from my youth in Montevideo. Such splattered slogans with their bitter, black humour went some way to brightening things up in Montevideo – a charcoal grey capital of a country more known for social and economic problems in the 1990s than for its recent football prowess. La Celeste did not qualify for the 1994 and 1998 World Cups. It was like we were living under an eclipse of the sun. We were a depressed society.
Football is our only real motive. It makes us scream together: "I'm Uruguayan." It is can be difficult being so tiny, wedged between Brazil and Argentina. It is the reason we don’t like nationalism. We know we cannot win at nationalism. But no matter how many of them there are, we know we can win at football.
When La Celeste returned from the World Cup in South Africa with fourth place, our banners were bursting with pride. The sloganeers were again in full effect. "Uruguay is the country with more glory per capita in the world," announced one flag, with all the authority of a United Nations study. It felt like the understatement of the century, such was the power of football to influence the mental health of our nation. Suddenly, we were proud; we were great; we were bigger than our brothers across the border. I say "we" because when La Celeste (the national team: the Sky Blue) plays we are one – as our song goes, "Soy Celeste" (I am Celeste).
A year later Uruguay won the Copa América, brushing aside Argentina and Brazil again. It was the 15th time we were crowned champions of South America. We are now the most successful team in our continent. This is incredible for the smallest nation in South America. Suriname is actually smaller than Uruguay, but it has a strange kind of relationship with Holland and gives them their best players – and doesn't play in the South American region. Who wants to wear bright orange shirts and be cheered by crazy people dressed like carrots?
Our 3 million people now look to Brazil. We hope for the same kind of glory as when our captain Obdulio Varela inspired our team in the Maracanã in the 1950 World Cup. He blocked out the 200,000 Brazilians in the stadium like closing a shutter on a tropical storm, with the words, "Muchachos, los de afuera son de palo," which roughly translates into those cheering are outside and don’t play game. They are just wood.
Despite such glory, it is fair to say the universal feeling for Uruguayans when our boys play is suffering. We were expecting to suffer even before Luisito Suárez injured his knee. When Suárez got injured, we suffered even more. When we lost the first match to Costa Rica, we suffered even more again. Costa Rica is a little nation just like Uruguay. It has bigger neighbors and no army. Maybe they have learned our secret.
Maybe we will lose to England and the face on our flag will frown. But maybe, Suárez will make England suffer and El Maestro’s squad of old men will make history in the Maracanã again.
*Dina Yael is a media content director and producer now working as senior consultant for Antel, the Uruguayan communications company. She is the general producer of World Cup mobile broadcasting in Uruguay.
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