Association football, more commonly known as football or soccer, is a team sport played between two teams of eleven players, and is widely considered to be the most popular sport in the world. It is a football variant played on a rectangular grass or artificial turf field, with a goal at each of the short ends. The object of the game is to score by maneuvering the ball into the opposing goal. In general play, the goalkeepers are the only players allowed to use their hands or arms to propel the ball; the rest of the team usually use their feet to kick the ball into position, occasionally using their torso or head to intercept a ball in midair. The team that scores the most goals by the end of the match wins. If the score is tied at the end of the game, either a draw is declared or the game goes into extra time and/or a penalty shootout, depending on the format of the competition.

The modern game was codified in England following the formation of The Football Association, whose 1863 Laws of the Game created the foundations for the way the sport is played today. Football is governed internationally by the Fédération Internationale de Football Association (International Federation of Association Football), commonly known by the acronym FIFA. The most prestigious international football competition is the FIFA World Cup, held every four years. This event, the most widely viewed in the world, boasts an audience twice that of the Summer Olympic Games.

Suck on that, American! All kidding aside, the amount of money that the industry side of this sport generates is utterly ridiculous. Hell, some of these players have a worth of over 30 million euros (60 million dollars or so) at press time; do you know what a guy like me could do with 60 million euros? I could buy a country. The Federation of States of Rob Rivera can finally become a reality!

As mentioned above, the highest, most important soccer event is the World Cup, held every four years and organized by FIFA. In it, 32 countries have the privilege of playing each other after a process of elimination that invites the best 204 teams to duke it out for the coveted spots; the month-long tournament will eventually determine who the best national team is, and more often than not they with rub it on the noses of everyone within walking distance… all is fair though, because unlike many other contests in this world, there is a sense of fairness and sheer elegance in the game that whoever does win the World Cup, whether they’re favorites or not, always deserves it. The process of elimination is taken care of in a regional scale, with the governing bodies for each region (in Panama, Central and North America’s case, the CONCACAF) holding tournaments themselves in order to figure out who goes and who stays home. Wins and losses are tallied by points, whereas a team wins three points if they win a game (it’s even more important if they win as Visitors) and one point if they tie. Naturally, zero points are awarded for every loss. There must always be an even number of teams participating, and every block of teams must play each other at least twice, once as Visitor and another with home court advantage; when all the dust is settled, the best three or four teams (depending on the region) pass to the next round. If there is a tie in terms of total points, then the ratio of goals scored in favor and against is tallied; in this case, the more goals you score and the less goals you deny your rivals, the better.

Finally, the way players of national teams are selected to participate is determined by the national soccer associations of those countries; of course, there is generally a league (in this case, ANAPROF) where one determines who the best players are, and then the association cherry picks (or rather summons) them to play for their country. Players are generally paid by their governments to play, but it’s a toss-up in terms of the amount; I’ve heard that Panamanian soccer players receive around $300 a piece for playing in the World Cup, and their soccer clubs pay anywhere between $300-$500 depending on how good you are. This is pocket change compared to what goes on in Europe, since there’s the case of the Russian president who in the 2008 Euro Cup told his national team that if they made it to the quarter finals he would personally give them millions in euros; if they made it to the semifinals he would bump up the tally and if they made it to the final they wouldn’t have to work another day for the rest of their lives. That sort of motivation sure as hell works, since Russia made it to the semi finals before being eliminated. What’s beautiful is that they cried their eyes out when they lost. It’s always about the glory, as it should be.

As it is with most countries in the world, people are very passionate about soccer. Panamanians live it, and it’s always a party whenever our national team, “La Marea Roja” or “The Red Tide,” plays. Our relationship to our soccer team, though, is surely a testament to the ties that love binds; there are very few examples of a love/hate relationship more acute than that of the Panamanian and his/her national soccer team. I’m sure that the bond between a fan and his national team, regardless of nationality, is just as strong, but like many things about us at the moment, Panama’s soccer team is in a state of mediocrity that is only so because of sheer sloth, and it makes things even more frustrating for the fan. Ask a Panamanian that follows the team, any of them, what it’s like to see their team play beautifully to the point of making them proud, only to have them succumb at the last minute and ruin all the good will they garner from the fans by playing well. Ask them, and you’ll witness a withered soccer soul stare back at you as if Shang Tsung had made a happy hour out of its carcass:

Even if their game has improved considerably in the last couple of years, the story seems to be the same over and over again. The team picks up steam, so much so that they make people believe that “this time they’re going to make it!” They’re backed up by sponsors who, though they stand to make a profit on the team’s image, there’s a real sense of pride hiding withing the advertisements… everyone wants to believe the team can make its country proud. And for a while, they do. They lift the country’s spirits up, each time to a higher place than the last, until the point where the team has positioned itself in a spot of high tension in terms of qualifying; they always do enough to be legible, but never enough to secure their spot. It always narrows down to a critical game, one that is all-or-nothing… and the whole country watches. They watch as they play beautifully, and for a few moments it seems as if this time it’ll be different. This time they will actually win. But then, when everyone least expects it, the rival takes advantage of that one window of opportunity to take the upper hand, and they do. Instead of keeping their heads in the game to try to null the rival team’s advantage, they get frustrated, and the way they fumble in their play mechanic, the way the entire country watches its team’s strategy blatantly fall to pieces over something as juvenile as pride and bad sportsmanship is like John Rambo stabbing Panama in the ribs and slowly twisting. It’s heartbreaking. They start hitting, making fouls, getting kicked out of the field and as they cower in their own frustrations screaming why Murphy’s Law has gang-raped them in such a violent manner, it’s crystal clear to the lot of us watching. Eventually, as the team gives up and allows more and more goals against them through their defenses, we all give up on them as well.

For the next few days, we come together because of this great tragedy. Creeds, social statures, political beliefs and everything else seizes to matter as much, if only for a short period of time. A self-inflicted terrorist attack. A FUBU attack brings us together, and for days the media, the street, the office, the classroom and everywhere in between is talking about it, asking themselves the same burning question: “What went wrong?”

In the end, the fans will always go back to that bittersweet relationship with their national soccer team, the Marea Roja, because there is potential there. They are so close to being incredible, but it’s their fear and lack of resolve that doesn’t allow them to take that extra step. Such is the happenstance of true love: you stick through it, through the bad times and the good. I’ve got to celebrate you, baby. I have to praise you like I should. Dearly departed reggae singer Papa Chan knew this, and out of love for his team he made the following song, now the unofficial anthem of La Marea Roja. Enjoy.

It’s hard to make a case in favor of these people when you’re dealing with national sensibilities such as these. In trying to be as unbiased as I can be I must say that, even though we’re not as good as Argentina when it comes to soccer, Panama’s National Soccer Team has come a long way in the past eight years and then some. We’ve come from “awfully shitty” to “better than average” in such a short time, and unlike the past our team looks like they know what they’re doing out there, which is leaps and bounds better than what we had for a team pre-2000. Why is this such a big deal to panamanians, then? I could rationalize that the fact is we Latinamericans are inherently attracted to soccer. It’s part of our culture, sort of like our version of gladiator events back in ancient Rome, sans the lions and killing. We love this game. I think it’s beautiful. So, when we see a “rival” throwing crap at us like howler monkeys, the panamanian spirit doesn’t disappoint. From the comments section of the YouTube page:

lebur26 writes:

Vayanse pa la mismisima pinga boludos hijos de la gran Puta!… traigan a Abbondanzieri, Heinze, Milito, Coloccini, Jonás, Burdisso, Zanetti, Demichelis, Gago, Maxi, Cambiasso, Mascherano, Riquelme, Saviola, Messi, Higuain, Agüero y Tévez!…. a todos les metemos la verga en el culo. Arriba la marea Roja!………. y la Pepsi que se valla pa la pinga tambien, aca tomamos Coca Cola!

I would translate it, but I don’t think it’s worth the time. Needless to say, it’s basically a bunch of pointless insults of an enraged man. He wants Argentina to bring over every major soccer superstar (including some of the best players in the world) because “we will stick our collective cock up their ass to every single one of them.” There’s also a quick jab saying that Panamanians don’t like Pepsi, but Coca Cola. No offense to this mister, but it’s that misguided, blinding rage that solidifies my belief that we come from chimpanzees. I do share the base resentment coming from him and many others, though: that shit is pretty uncalled for. Now, browsing about Panama-Argentinian soccer history, I came across this gem of information provided by yet another YouTube user (info sounds about right):

Panacomposer writes:

Recuerden:
Panamá le ganó a Argentina 4-2 en amistoso Sub 23 boludos. Y PANAMA LE GANO AL RIVER 1 a 0 en partido de exhibición y luego NO QUISIERON HACER EL PARTIDO DE VUELTA EN ARGENTINA por frulo de que se las metiéramos “asha” en BsAs. Por qué no dicen que la promo es más facil que ganarle a Alemania? O que ganarle a INGLATERRA EN LA GUERRA DE LAS FALKLANDS (las que ustedes llaman Malvinas).

So, this kind sir points out that Panama has beaten Argentina in many occasions, in divisions that matter. Why not poke fun at Germany, or England, he asks? I don’t know. The thing is, there’s a pretty good chance that this stupid commercial will hit the national news outlets in the next coming days, because we take our pride that seriously.