“GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL!” bellowed the announcer for a solid five minutes straight, all in one breath. The earth shook beneath his thunderous, booming call of victory. “GOAL GOAL GOAL GOAL GOAL GOAL GOAL!” he continued to shout in rapid succession in case you missed his first modest announcement that yes, a goal had in fact been scored. Was it for his team? Who cares? The announcer certainly doesn’t.
There is no feeling comparable to the utterly elevating bliss felt by a Latin sports commentator as that vinyl ball makes break-neck speed contact with that flimsy net. His soul fills with such emotion and excitement that it literally escapes his body in an explosive burst of din and excitement, “TREMENDO GOLAZO!”
He’s been training for this moment his entire life. Ever since birth, he knew he was different. He’s always cried, sung, and spoken louder than his peers. He would always get in trouble in class growing up because he simply could not whisper. Inside voice? The only inside he knows is the inside of a soccer arena. A chest x-ray would show you that where his heart should be, there is only a soccer ball and a microphone. He’s always known he was special—always known that there was a more voluminous quality to him than everyone else. It was when he went to his first soccer game, and he saw his first goal scored. As the ball exploded from a player’s kick and kissed the back of that sweet, sweet Promised Land we call a net, he was utterly euphoric, his eyes rolled back into his head, he seized, he foamed at the mouth—he knew his destiny. He was destined to be a fútbol announcer.
With the 2014 World Cup among us, he knows it is his time to do the duty for which he was chosen. He dons his crisp white suit and shiny silk tie and saunters into the studio every day with a sense of determination. He looks to his co-workers and says with utter determination, “a jugar fútbol, **ño.”