The Hand Of Fate. I spent the first 60 minutes of the final riding around Buenos Aires on my motorcycle and absorbing the atmosphere. The streets were completely deserted, like a scene from The Walking Dead, so I turned off the engine at traffic lights to listen for roars and cheers. (more…)
Where do I start? Argentina started disastrously, but somehow have managed to reach the final on Sunday and in retrospect, not by the skin of their teeth, but by sheer talent and, dare I say it, passion. (more…)