The twenty-minute taxi ride, north of the center of Guadalajara on Calz Independencia Street, puts you in front of the 63,000 seat stadium. A pedestrian walkway leading up to the stadium are filled with stalls with merchandise and food. Long tables and chairs are set up underneath an awning, serving everything from quesadillas to birria con chivas, a soupy dish with goat meat. A bad omen for the home team perhaps? Behind the steel hotplate are stout-looking women with big welcoming smiles that would say otherwise.

Those without a stall, walk around the crowds, with merchandise in hand, trying to sell you everything from shirts to peanuts. That’s one thing you’ll notice more in Mexico. The spirit of entrepreneurship is active here.

A 60,000-seat stadium is a sight to see architecturally but a 60,000 seat stadium that is filled to capacity, even up to the bleachers section, gives you a sense of the local colour. Behind the net, there are the loyal enthusiasts with their red banners and flags, rippling in the wind. Families who come out 10 to12 voices strong cheering in unison as their beloved team, the Chivas come onto the field. Couples embracing and holding each other tightly, legs over legs, watching a team they both like. God forbid a relationship where they support rivaling teams. Soccer isn’t just a game here; it’s a thread that binds all Mexicans, young and old. Rich or poor.

The whistle blows and the fans are already on their feet, supporting their home team, the Chivas with the rhythmic chants that everyone seems to know, shouting at the players, and a roar of one single voice whenever a chance to score opens up. And with equal strength and veracity, putting down and slamming the opposing Pumas who hail from Mexico City. A soccer game is not something you just watch, it’s something you feel. The tension in the air is constant.

Fifteen minutes into the first period, the Chivas get a chance. A player dribbles the ball down the line, looks for a chance in front of the net and executes a brilliant pass through all the defenders. The forward picks it off and drills one into the top corner; pass the stunned and motionless keeper. The crowds jump to their feet, waving their arms in a spirit of triumph. The decibel level jumps up as if a jumbo jet just descended out of the sky and started circling around the stadium.

An older woman in her 70’s, two bleachers down, is standing on her feet, chanting the Chivas chorus and clapping her wrinkled hands. Wearing her soccer jersey that comes all the way down to her knees, she exudes a long tradition of Chivas pride. I can imagine her in her youth, watching her brothers play outside on the dusty road, kicking the ball around, wishing she could play too. Now, in her later years, she looks on with that same anticipation.

The Chivas takes advantage of playing at home and pushes the Pumas back in the first period. The Pumas are on the defensive the whole time with hardly any shots on net at all. After two easy goals in, the Chivas crowd feels comfortable but continues giving all the support they can, showing no mercy for the visiting team. A Puma fan nearby sulks in his seat, swearing to himself. Not too loudly though especially with the sea of red around him.

The intermission is time for the comic relief from the tension of the game. Of course in expense of the visiting Pumas. The home mascot, a white goat, walks onto the pitch, dragging an effigy of a Puma player. He stops just in front of the goal and holds the life-size doll in front of him and begins gyrating his hips. The whole stadium shakes with laughter. Finally after further demonstrating his promiscuous prowess, the goat kicks the Puma doll into the net. The arms and legs fly in different directions and the crowd roars with satisfaction.

It’s the beginning of the second period with the home team up 2-0. The visiting Pumas come out charging, with a more aggressive offense against the home favourites. The crowds feel the tide turning a little but with two up on the scoreboard, there’s little to dissuade the crowds.

But then tragedy strikes. As an opposing striker rushes for a loose ball in front of the net, the goalkeeper Sanchez also scrambles for it. The striker rushes to the net, but the ball is snagged away from Sanchez. He ends up paying for it though as the charging striker knees him in the head. The goalkeeper wriggles like a fish out of water, arms and legs thrashing about in the air. The fans are not happy. Just listen to them boo and yell.

His clenched mouth tells the fans that he’s not going to get up anytime soon. The doctor and coach come onto the field to bandage his head. When Sanchez picks himself off from the ground, the crowds clap and holler in exultation.

Despite the second period efforts of the Pumas, they just can’t get it together. The Chivas fans can once again feel confident of their team’s superiority if not the league champions, at least the champions of this particular game.

The world is once again at equilibrium.