Yesterday I saw Croatia kick Argentina's ass. (I'm talking about Russia 2018, for those of you who may be unaware of the truly important world events!) A very well-deserved win for Croatia.
In the anticipation of the match, my Croatian friends and family had been surprised any time I expressed my genuine concern that Croatia would beat us. We all know that pretty much anything can happen in a World Championship, so I stayed open. Whatever I anticipated, I did not see a 3-0 coming. (Until the match was in progress, that is!)
Knowing that a defeat is a possibility doesn't make it less disappointing. For me, there was no way of losing, considering I am half Croatian and I live in Zagreb. But I rooted for Argentina, as any time we've faced Croatia in sports.
Back home, in Buenos Aires, the FIFA World Cup happens in winter. Here in Zagreb, the championship is an occasion for summer partying. Not that Croatians need a reason to go party.
I have been using the excuse of evening matches to get out of the house and gather with friends. Yesterday was no exception, but I confess I had apprehensions. I have seldom felt safe in a crowd of football fans who happen to also be drinking.
I don't know about the whole of Argentina, but I do know Buenos Aires well. Well enough to wonder if a dozen Croatian supporters in BA, would have felt as safe as we did yesterday evening. Including all the heart-warming messages I got before and during the match.
I went out in the street wearing my national colours an honouring Croatia with bright-red nail polish. Surrounded by a small bunch of friends wearing Argentine vests, we were anything but inconspicuous as we parted the waters of a checkered sea of Croatian fans.
We took our small corner, and those around us acknowledged us, asked some questions, made space for us and let me hang my handbag from their chair, place my beer on their table.
Croatia beat us. 3-0. They wiped us, actually. It was painful to watch, but it was beautiful to see our fellow Croatians cheer and be merry. Every time they celebrated a goal, the ones closest to us turned and showed genuine joy, of course. But it was accompanied by what felt like heart-felt compassion.
There was zero arrogance in their manner, and late into the night, walking through the spontaneous parties happening everywhere in the city, people would approach us and tease us a bit, but invariably in good spirit, and with a tone of camaraderie that you do not find in Argentina, even in friendly matches.
Little do Croatians know that our way of celebrating sport rivalry is way more aggressive. I hate it. We often celebrate our rivals' defeat more than our own victories. Winning doesn't seem as important as seeing our rivals bite the dust, and it is not unusual for all of that "merrymaking" to get out of hand and turn into aggression.
Could a dozen Croatians have watched the match in BA surrounded by the same generous spirit? It's unlikely.
Croatia's happiness was contagious and it felt easy to feel happy for them. I will not go as far as saying that it got me to celebrate. I was somewhat deflated. But the partying and celebration had everything to do with Croatia securing their spot in the next round, and playing pretty good football, and nothing to do with Argentina losing.
Svaka čast, Hrvatska! Proud to call you home.
