Reminiscences of youth. Painful memories. The warmth of a crowded car. The dregs of a potent hangover. Dual identities. The smell of a freshly mowed pitch. The dynamism of team sports. Promiscuity. The unyielding intolerance of previous generations. A late night tango. The absolute beauty of football (soccer).
Reminiscences of youth. Painful memories. The warmth of a crowded car. The dregs of a potent hangover. Dual identities. The smell of a freshly mowed pitch. The dynamism of team sports. Promiscuity. The unyielding intolerance of previous generations. A late night tango. The absolute beauty of football (soccer).
All this and more drives the first-person narrative of Facundo R. Soto’s Juego de Chicos, a crisp bildungsroman that dips in and out of the surrealism of a gay football squad etched into the reality of Argentina’s national religion. In this most macho of macho scenarios, Soto becomes a participant in the struggles and triumphs of a team created out of necessity. The cast of characters, anonymous in a way, but easily identified by their positions, is pulled from every echelon of society—proving hooliganism only knows team allegiance
