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By Carlos Madama Hernandez
Buenos Aires, Argentina

The streets explode, people abandon their cars and leave them parked anywhere, as if they were escaping the fire at the end of the world. Horns sound, firecrackers and papers fly into the air; Feelings, contained emotions, fights over the injustices to which those of us who live in this land that have very few reasons to be happy and celebrate are permanently subjected, explode.
It is the party of all those who do not make ends meet, of those who suffer from inflation, of those of us who are tired of politicians who think only of them. 
Euphoria with wild screams, with entire families dressed in light blue and white, with passionate hugs with anyone. At the party everyone joined social classes, spontaneous friends, acquaintances from a while ago, the cartonero who collected hopes of life, and even  members of the police with their eyes full of tears and with desire to celebrate contained in his uniform.
There were Venezuelans, Ecuadorians, Hondurans, Japanese, Peruvians, Bolivians  y from all over the world and many of them with Argentine shirts on their chests. A melting pot of races that did not want to be left out of such a celebration.  Yes, even the typical Senegalese vendors picked up their blankets full of trinkets to hug whoever was next to them. 
Hats, flags, headbands, streamers, bugles and anything that had the colors and that served to keep the memory in the heads of the grandmother who may never see another similar demonstration again; and also that of the boys with the “trout” shirt with the name of the best player in history (title shared with Maradona?). All the shirts say "Messi" and the stanzas of the songs invented at the time have Messi and the laughter turned into tears also say Messi. 
In the background are the rest of the gladiators, all on a shared podium and at the same height. It didn't matter if they played a few minutes or if they had an imaginary rental contract with the substitutes' bench because if there was something that characterized this group, it was unity and camaraderie, in each training session, in each match (playing or supporting), at every dinner and at that moment of disappointment after the debut with defeat and with a harbinger of the end of the cycle.
Television images showed different festivities in the rest of the country on giant screens, from Ushuaia to La Quiaca. Thousands of kilometers dressed in light blue and white; dozens of reasons, hundreds of emotions, millions of tears. 
It is fully known that soccer is the passion of the multitudes and that and nothing else was certified in each of the Argentine streets that  exploded with joy and passion for the triumph of the national team in the World championship played in the distant Qatari lands.
The Technical Director of the defeated French team, Didier Deschamps said “They were playing the world final”. I add that the 47 million inhabitants of this blessed country, also...
Meanwhile, the Vice President of the Nation, Cristina Fernández de Kirchner, waits in the dock for the accused of robbing the country. "Six years" says Justice and the international embarrassment that explodes.
Life is this, joys and sorrows almost at the same time...

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