Soccer in Sun and Shadow

The Duty of Losing

For Bolivia, qualifying for the ’94 World Cup was like reaching the moon. Penned in by geography and mistreated by history, it had attended other World Cups only by invitation and had lost all its matches, failing to score a single goal.

The work of manager Xabier Azkargorta was paying off, not only in La Paz, where you play above the clouds, but at sea level. Bolivia was proving that altitude was not its only great player; the team could overcome the hang-ups that obliged it to lose before the match even began. Bolivia sparkled in the qualifying rounds. Melgar and Baldivieso in the midfield and the forwards Sánchez and above all Etcheverry, known as “El Diablo,” were cheered by the most demanding of crowds.

As bad luck would have it, Bolivia had to open the World Cup against all-powerful Germany. A baby finger against Rambo. But no one could have foreseen the outcome: instead of shrinking back into the box, Bolivia went on the attack. They didn’t play equal against equal. No, they played as the big guys against the little. Germany, thrown off stride, was in flight and Bolivia was in ecstasy. And that’s how it continued, until the moment when Bolivia’s star Marco Antonio Etcheverry took the field only to kick Matthäus inexcusably and get sent off. Then the Bolivians collapsed, wishing they had never sinned against the secret spell cast from the depths of centuries that obliges them to lose.