The footballing fiesta has come to an early end for me. The 90 min thriller has left me high and dry. I don't know how long it will take for me and my fellow cules to get out of the trauma.
But after all this when I look back I feel like I was only the stupid one. The 6-1 drubbing at the hands of Spain should have brought me back to sense. The horrific team selection, faulty management for the Argentina Football Association, the unimaginative coach, Romero injury were big signs.
But No It's not my mistake that I didn't see or heed to these signs. It's my upbringing that should be blamed, for I have been born and brought up by the magician to believe in the impossible. Form the day he graced the football pitch he has been redefining the impossible. And he gave best today also.
But at end I stand here reminiscing all the dreams that I had seen before the tournament, the world cup winning celebration that I had prepared for him, the party that I was planning for months, the anecdotes that I was planning to tell my next generation but all in vain.
May be the better team won, May be it wasn't his day, may be every thing happens for good.
My mind is at rest now, my heart has run a marathon.
For now I will lie down and sleep in peace.
Strength to You, my Hero. Strength to you, my fellow cules.