By: Javier Ferrer R-Rey
Los Angeles, CA (The Hollywood Times) 07/19/2026 – History has been made as Spain lifted their second world cup in the New Jersey Sky. This is how I lived it as a Spaniard in the USA.
Since the beginning of the World Cup, something felt off. My passion for the Spanish squad was the same, I wore the t-shirt every day La Roja played and still I never quite fully assumed what we were achieving. At first I thought it was because our dominant style of play, the way we controlled the ball, by playing our football, a beautiful football that some called boring, a football that has been growing since the seeds that Sir Luis Aragonés planted in that magical 2008 and that bloomed in Johannesburg; until now which it has given the fruits of a new unforgettable generation.
But the truth is that I was wrong, it wasn’t because of that feeling of “this is what was going to happen” or “we played so much better”, it’s because I couldn’t live it there, in Spain, with my people.
Following the world cup from the United States has been bittersweet, it’s hard finding people that really like football if you don’t go to an international school (in that, I am lucky), but none are Spanish, none can live how you’re supposed to live the Merino goal in the 92nd minute against Portugal or the 88th minute against Belgium. There was no one to console and tell them that “everything will be okay” after that draw against Cape Verde.
And for this final it’s been the same. Since we won against France I’ve spent all week thinking about why I didn’t feel those nerves I did in 2010 at 10 years old, why I didn’t wish for Sunday to come faster. And again, that’s because I wasn’t in the appropriate atmosphere. Yes, I was with a couple of friends at home watching the game, two Brazilians forever at football-war with Argentina, and four Indians that don’t have that big of a connection with the World Cup other than the clubs they support.
What was needed the most was that encouragement and atmosphere that you feel being in Spain, packed streets where ideologies die to be able to share a hug, a kiss, a honk from a car and a Viva España from a stranger. Beers with your friends while they sing Superestrella after taking down every team that we’ve faced. Being able to listen to a celebration in Spanish. Scream together to the referee and to chant “Olé” for every completed pass.
But what I missed the most is not having been able to hear that silence that Andrés Iniesta heard in the 116th minute in 2010 at Soccer City Stadium before Stekelenburg; and the one that Ferrán Torres listened to in the 106th minute this 19th of July of 2026 before Emiliano Martínez. Not being able to hold my breath with a whole Nation when Nico Williams passes the ball for a Ferrán volley, and not being able to scream when the God of Football grants the number 7’s wish of scoring the winning goal. Not being able to repeat that celebration from 2010 when I dived into the pool at 10:53 pm and not being able to sleep because of the horns and the screams that choked the night. Not being able to go out to enjoy and sing with strangers Un Beso y Una Flor. Not being able to celebrate the goal that reminds us that once more we’re the best country and the best nation in the world.
And it’s now, when I read the posts in Twitter, in Instagram, of all of you celebrating Ferrán’s goal, celebrating the victory, writing this, when the tears start running down my face still trying to assume what we’ve just accomplished.
We’re champions of the world.
Enjoy, enjoy for yourselves and for the ones that can’t be there.
