As the suits and the skirts rushed upstairs at the first sound of the tick of 4pm, everyone sat glued to the white board and watched their team. They cheered and cursed and jested with their co-workers. I purposefully sat in the back to observe it all as a moving picture, that OR I am not the most popular person in the office. You decide.
My second favorite part of the game, aside of the childish anticipation of grown adults was halftime. At halftime, the suits and skirts shuffled their feet out to the elevator almost mimicking the morning foot traffic to the metro. The rush hour was in order to squeeze in some work in between halves, to make sure that the entire two hours was not a total loss.
Though I wasn't knee-deep in a sweat infested local bar, pouring water over head at the thought of a penalty against our pride, España, I saw another side of the fence. The grass was pretty green on my side.