I'm still fucking devastated, man. It hurts like hell... but, you know what? I'm proud. I'm proud of them boys. They gave their all. They left everything on the pitch. They were playing against the home team, against thousands of people screaming their lungs out against them - a yellow and green and blue tide that threatened to uproot and disintegrate everything in its wake. But they fought.
And while they lost, they never gave up. They were fighting until the end. And they went out with a bang.
I'm devastated, yes. But I'm proud of them. I believed in them, and I still do. They were carrying the weight of their homeland in their shoulders, and they made us proud.
And my new avatar is in honor of GARY FUCKING MEDEL. He's a beast. He played the entire match with a huge-ass strain that left his legs in shambles. He'll be out of the game for 2 months after today. He didn't care. He wanted to play for his country, he wanted to win. He's all passion and guts and fire. He may not be the most technical, the most exciting, the tallest or the strongest. But he has a heart bigger than his own damn country, and for that, we love him. He's a goddamn hero. His tears at the end were the tears of all of us. Of those screaming and crying at the stadium, surrounded by a wall of yellow and green and blue, not feeling intimidated at all. Of those screaming and crying at home, alongside friends or family or total strangers. He cried, and probably most of us did, but we're proud of him. We love him. He's one of us - but we can only dream and hope against hope that we can be as big and passionate as him.
So I'm devastated. I have said it already, but there's no other word to describe my current state. And at the same time, there's something greater to be learned from all this bitterness and anguish. That, somehow, if we all believe - then sometimes, even the most impossible of things can be accomplished. Even in the face of armageddon, as someone once said.
I'm proud of them. I'll never forget.