France 98 - Dispatch report from Mexico City, Mexico

Mexico went to the World Cup looking to their supporters, like the chronicle of a quick return foretold, but instead ended up with a heroes' welcome after their first qualification for the second round in a finals held in Europe.  Patriotic fervor first turned sour in November 1997, when 110,000 fans at the Azteca Stadium saw the home side draw 0-0 with a ten-man United States side in what should have been a routine CONCACAF qualifier.  The fans got what they wanted as their derisive jeers were answered with the departure of coach Bora Milutinovic.  His replacement, Manuel Lapuente, at first fared little better, even though Mexico finished top of the CONCACAF group.  The fans were less than impressed with draws against Costa Rica and against European league sides.  In the run-up to the finals the film Titanic was doing the rounds of Mexican cinema, offering an obvious nickname for a team which many feared would founder even when confronted with South Korea, let alone the looming European icebergs of Holland and Belgium.

But the newspapers were left clutching at new metaphors when Luis "Matador" Hernandez suddenly refound his killer instinct against Korea.  Previously Hernandez's biggest contributions to the World Cup campaign had been the billboards plastered all over the country with his reclining figure and dyed blonde locks advertising underwear.

Luis "Matador" Hernandez

If Hernandez's two goals got the crowds roaring in front of the big screens in downtown Mexico City's baking colonial-era streets, the Korea match was also memorable for the unveiling by Cuauhtémoc Blanco - named after the last Aztec emperor who refused to surrender and was tortured to death by Spanish conquistadors - of which English-speakers now call the "Blanco bounce."  As it turned out, Blanco's trick of grabbing the ball between his ankles and hopping over opponents' feet proved about as effective when it mattered as the flamboyant displays of defiance by his famous namesake.

The "Blanco Bouce" in action against Germany

Nevertheless, Mexico's bright start whipped the country into full-blown World Cup fever.  Bars advertised special two-for-one offers to entice customers, although the time difference with France meant not a few arrived late for work and unsteady on their feet after liquid breakfasts.  However, they did so in the almost certain knowledge that no one would mind, or even notice.  Dealing on the battered local stock market slowed to a standstill as brokers took a break from dumping shares to watch the national side, the normally smog-laden air cleared as motorists forsook the 18-million strong capital's streets for safer havens by TV screens, and building-site workers downed pneumatic drills and piledrivers to hear the radio commentary.

However, not everyone in Mexico was enjoying the tournament.  The night before the Korea game saw the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights, Mary Robinson, express concern over the "alarming situation" in poverty-stricken Chiapas, a state with a largely indigenous population at the southern tip of Mexico, near the border with Guatemala.  Robinson spoke two days after a bloody clash between the army and alleged supporters of Zapatista rebels, who rose up against the government at the beginning of 1994.  Eight Indians said to be Zapatista supporters and a policeman died in the clash at the village of El Bosque, adding a new atrocity to a conflict that has killed hundreds over the past four years.  Several press columnists were of the view that the government deliberately upped the ante in Chiapas while the public's attention was diverted on the World Cup.  Another clash earlier the same week between security forces and alleged guerrillas killed 11 in Guerrero, another poor southern state where many often do not have electricity, let alone televisions for watching football matches.

Whatever the government's intentions, the team were certainly doing their best to keep Mexico's mind off such uncomfortable reminders of reality for as long as possible.  Their 2-2 draw with Belgium, after being two goals down, was widely seen as a moral victory, but still left the prospects of reaching the second round about as certain as clean elections back home - something you can occasionally glimpse in the distance, but never believe will be achieved.

Parish priests around this traditionally devoutly Catholic country began to call on divine help before the final group game against Holland, by dressing wooden figures of baby Jesus in Mexico's green, white and red strip.  Many statues of Mexico's most revered religious icon, the Virgin of Guadalupe, wore a No 12 shirt to indicate her symbolic presence on the bench for the national squad.  The Guadalupe fixation is significant, not simply as a religious symbol, but is also closely identified with Mexico itself - banners of the home-grown cult led Mexico's fighters for independence from the Spanish in the early 19th century.  She is therefore the natural first port of call for payers to assist the national team.

The Virgin of Guadalupe

The prayers seemed to be answered when Luis Hernandez scored his last-minute equalizer against the skeptical, rationalistic Dutch, and Mexico went collectively berserk.  President Ernesto Zedillo was granted an almost instant post-match interview with manager Lapuente and his "matador"," courtesy of the pro-government Televisa network, which has a monopoly on broadcasting Mexico's international games.  Zedillo, in a phrase more than slightly tinged with machismo proclaimed that Mexico's team had shown "they had size" to deal with the competition and that, once more, they had shown the conquering spirit with which Mexico could overcome its problems.

Critics were quick to point out that the Zedillo administration had not been conspicuously successful in showing the same conquering spirit, wallowing as it was in a controversy over $65 billion bank bailout and repeated budget cuts due to dwindling income from oil exports.  Political columnists wondered whether Zedillo was trying to wrap himself in the national team's colours in a bid to bask in a brief glimpse of glory and recover some kudos for his party, which is struggling to retain the office it has held since 1929.  On the very day of the Holland match, police admitted he had taken hundreds of thousands of dollars in bribes from drug gangs for protection.  On that same day, police arrested the family of Daniel Arizmendi, head of a kidnapping ring which gained notoriety for slicing the ears off its victims and sending them to relatives to speed up ransom payments.

But who was going to stay at home worrying about the budget deficit or trivial cases of mutilation when there was a World Cup triumph to celebrate? Thousands poured into the city squares in a mad party as the war cry "yes, we can!" started by a TV station became "Yes, we could!"  But the festivities soured in Mexico's central avenue, Paseo de la Reforma, when crowds battled with riot police blocking the way to the nation's Angel of Independence monument, the traditional site for celebrating national victories.  Three press photographers had to be rushed to hospital suffering from head wounds after they were trapped under a barrage of missiles thrown by rioters.

The prayers of the faithful proved ineffective in the second round, as Mexico tempted fate by taking the lead and ceded the role of comeback kings to the ever-willing Germans.  Still, Luis Hernandez came back to Mexico with four goals from as many games and a feeling that he might yet make a more successful excursion from Mexico than his recent inglorious time at Argentina's Boca Juniors.

Mexico 'keeper Campos in action against Jurgen Klinsmann

With a little more nerve, Mexico might have claimed the prize that fell to Croatia of humiliating the Germans.  On the other hand, they earned the thanks of a grateful football world by eliminating the dreadfully negative Belgians.  And for the vast majority of Mexican fans, that was enough.  Their team went down fighting and honour was restored.  Or, as Manuel Lapuente put it: "We leave with out faces to the sun."

(Extracts from Onward Virgin Soldiers by Mike Mitchell, in the book Back Home: How the world watched France 98)