My first memory of soccer/fútbol/football was when I was six years old. Diego Maradona, the Argentine considered to be one of the best players in soccer history, was playing against West Germany during the final game of the 1986 World Cup. "Come on, Dieguito, beat the Germans!' my father exclaimed as he guzzled the beer and the foam stuck to his typical

Mexican mustache. 　 I looked around and saw similar irrational behavior coming from my padrino (godfather) and my uncles. 　They talked to the T.V., drank too much and screamed as if the little soccer figures inside the T.V. as if they were listening. 　'This is boring!" I yelled at them. 　But no one was listening - La Chiquitibum had taken over the airwaves. 　La Chiquitibum was a woman with a tiny cutoff t-shirt and a large bosom that moved to the rhythm of the cheer - "Chiquitibum a la bim bom ba a la bio ala bao ala bim bom ba México, México ra ra ra!" 　However, this wasn't just a national cheer……it the jingle for what else? 　A beer, of course.

It seems that since humans could walk, men and women have been polarized on the issue of sports and in this particular case - soccer. 　Some historians believe that soccer can trace its roots to ancient China, around 200 A.D. where early evidence suggests that men played a game that focused on the ability of the players to dribble a leather ball. 　I can almost picture rows of Chinese women in scantily short, silk robes holding beers as they parade on the sidelines. 　

So, it seems that since beginning of time, this has been the equation:

Men + beer 　=　soccer games

Women + beer = 　soccer commercials

But thankfully, I have been part of a generation that has seen that changed. From Mia Hamm to female sports commentators on Spanish-speaking television stations, it appears seems that women have included in the discussion of soccer as it relates to their interest and passion for their sport rather than their sensuality.

My trajectory in the sport has evolved as well, especially with each World Cup, which occurs every four years: although in 1986 I preferred Barbie to soccer, by the time I was a teenager during the 1994 U.S. World Cup, I have become increasingly interested in the young men with muscular legs parading in shorts for 90 minutes. 　I cut and collected newspaper articles featuring the cutest soccer players – Roberto DiMaggio, Tony Meola, Jorge Campos - but in the process, I also gained a new passion for the sport itself. 　I let my young brain absorb data, knowledge, and statistics that to this day, impresses most males (including my current boyfriend). 　As 1998 rolled around, I had already chosen Brazil to be my college study abroad destination. Therefore, I was automatically drawn to Ronaldo number 9 and the Brazilian team. Nonetheless, I became increasingly patriotic by cheering for El Tri (Mexican National Team) and see them lose to the United States – a curse that has plagued them ever since.

In between cups, I have been to local games in México, US, London and Brazil – I have seen friendly matches turn rowdy and competitive matches end in disappointment. It seems that as time passes, there is a deeper intensity and a dying commitment to the sport that is unparalleled by any other spectator sport. So, although I can’t kick the ball to save my life and some rules baffle me – I will continue cheering and enjoying the most globally-loved sport– FÚTBOL –with a beer in my hand while I stare at Cristiano Ronaldo’s derriere as he scores a goal.

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