Perhaps years ago, like a few decades ago, Andrés Cantor was a cartoon character for non-football fans with his outsized “GOOOOOOOOOOO” quote.OLD!” Calls making rounds on various featured shows are proof of how silly football can be to agnostics and why it should never be bothered.
Like the sport’s popularity has skyrocketed, Cantor has become something of a beacon for fans. You will find a large number of football fans who enjoy watching international matches or Champions League matches on Spanish broadcasts to reduce the absurdity that American broadcasts have. can sometimes dig in. Cantor even occasionally jumps into the English commentary for the Olympics or other competitions, only making him a staple of the American football experience.
Cantor’s famous calls to score, for those in the know, always limit scoring in football and are one of the biggest reasons we watch. This unprecedented emotional release, has significance. But of course, Cantor is much more than what has essentially become a catchphrase.
Yesterday, Cantor achieved what should have been the pinnacle of his broadcasting career, which was to call his hometown Argentina (he moved to the United States when he was 13 from Buenos Aires) World Cup opponents:
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Although being called up to a World Cup final is the highest honor in the profession and being called up yesterday must have felt like a gift from God himself, it is clearly something even. there’s more to Cantor, however it can happen. That he was able to convey the solemnity through his own tears, while letting us know how much it means to him and to all Argentines around the world through through his sheer emotion without transcending the moment, I can’t imagine a more complete way to convey a moment that is perhaps too important for anyone to wrap their arms around. .
And I assume, or maybe just hope, that I’m not the only one watching this video with just a little bit of jealousy. Because what would make me feel like this? I’m not someone who struggles to express emotions. I cry from sadness or happiness with a strong wind. Show me a reaction video of the Cubs winning the World Series or even a Landon Donovan goal and I’m a certified mess. I cried in “Eddie The Eagle.” It’s not just other people’s happiness, but it brings me back to how I felt at those exact times, and all that happened.
But is it the same feeling Cantor and Argentina felt when Montiel’s penalty went into the net? Watching Cantor I’m not so sure. I spent a lot of time thinking about what it really means to support USMNT or USWNT. Sometimes I think it’s just another form of a club, not really that much different from my relationship with Liverpool. It’s certainly not an endorsement of everything my country has to offer. Just another laundry item that I like.
But it’s not just that, is it? Otherwise, international football will be no different from watching club football, but it does. A fan of the women’s team has a revolutionary feeling about it, being part of the movement, of a war that is still very long to go. The boys’ team has had that in the past, though it was just punk rock’s support for something unpopular rather than real politics. It’s like saying you heard Nirvana when they released “Bleach”. And the fandom of either or both is still something of an endorsement for our nation, and there are things about it that deserve endorsement, even if there are a lot of things that aren’t.
But whatever identity I have as an American through the national team(s), it’s hardly what the Argentinians draw through their national team. It’s not just a small part of being from Argentina. That’s a huge part of it. It’s in the blood. Even if I live long enough to see U.S. won the Men’s World Cup, do I feel this? you will? Are any of us?
Now I have seen a group of U.S. Women won the World Cup, and had satisfaction and joy. But it’s also business as usual.
With that said, I’ve seen Cubs win the World Series, which I’ve wanted more than anything in my entire life. I watched the Hawks win the Stanley Cup, no matter how it’s viewed now doesn’t change how I felt then. Maybe it’s the same, just at the local level. Part of my identity as a Chicagoan, and those are important parts of that identity. Maybe it’s the same.
But clearly, there’s something bigger about it nationally. It will have to be amplified. You will feel that current rising no matter where you are.
It’s also different when there’s an attack on the top every season. Sure, the heartache of repeated defeats takes shape in a different way, but there’s something worse than having to sit out a World Cup qualifier for four years. It’s not going anywhere, it’s not being erased a few months later with a new season and new aspirations. Especially when you are Argentinian and only victory can do it. Thirty six years between championships makes it epic, when in reality it equates to just nine years in a club season. But Cantor lived those 36 years, as we all clearly see.
It’s hard to think of anything that would pull this country together in such a way, although I’m sure there are major divisions in Argentina, too. Football is still not popular enough here, though that may soon change. We are so used to being the best at basketball. Nothing else that interests us has an international context. We also don’t like to show emotions the way Argentinians do, because sometimes it feels like they can all start fighting and teaming up in an empty room at the same time.
But maybe, one day, you and I will know this feeling. That’s probably why we keep watching. Isn’t hope the foundation of fandom? However, you describe what Cantor is going through here is what we hope our hopes will connect with one day.
