¿Y Si Sí?: What Mexico City Taught Me About Believing in a Good Outcome

I’m absolutely clueless when it comes to soccer and FIFA…but let me tell you, after accidentally being in this city during the world's largest soccer tournament, I learned way more than soccer rules and who the hot players are — moment of silence for Raúl Jiménez, por favor.

I moved to Mexico City this March, and coincidentally ended up moving into an apartment that was a five-minute walk from the epicenter of Mexico’s Fan Fest for FIFA - the “Angel of Independence.” 

Before I tell you my story and share my gleaned wisdom from this experience, let me show you a picture of Fan Fest (the public viewings of FIFA games) at the Angel of Independence in Mexico City during the tournament. 

An estimated 100 million people crowd outside all over the city to watch the Mexico games. The Energy of this experience is something I cannot put into words. I’ve never felt the intensity of a crowd roar when Mexico scores when they’re down 1-0. Soccer aside, this is hands down one of the most amazing experiences I've had travelling… and that includes dream trips to Greece, and dancing late into the night with Latin lovers (hehe). 

I moved into this apartment on June 1st. The FIFA World Cup kicked off about a week later. I didn't plan to live five minutes from the epicentre of Fan Fest. It just happened, and once it did, there was no avoiding it — so I bought myself a jersey and joined in on the electric energy that carried me to every Mexico game… often with green, white, and red paint on my face. 

When in Rome, right? No shade in joining the bandwagon, right??? RIGHT??? My advice - when an opportunity you’re unfamiliar with lands in front of you, don’t let shame tell you that you’re an imposter… even if you are (not Mexican and not a soccer fan) LOL. 

I didn't even know what FIFA was… and you may not either, so here’s my best attempt at explaining the important parts (like the hot players and the drama…LOL).  Quick disclaimer: I'm not fact-checking any of this, because I still don't care that much about the sport itself lol. 

1. FIFA is basically the Olympics of soccer.

2. It happens every four years.

3. Teams are formed by country, and not every country gets to compete — you have to qualify first.

4. This year's tournament was spread across 16 cities in three countries: Canada, the United States of America, and the beloved Mexico. 

5. Me being sporty for a minute: Offside is when a player kicks the ball to a teammate who's too far ahead of the other team's defenders… so you can't just station a guy by the net and lob it to him… because that’s exactly how I'd play. 

6. There are many attractive futbol players. (editor’s note: YES, THERE ARE!)

7. There are also many dramatic futbol players. The way these grown men fall makes a toddler look brave.

8. The Final was Argentina Vs Spain, and Spain came out victorious. 

That's the extent of my soccer IQ, and I stand by every bit of it. But none of that is actually why I want to tell you about this. What blew me away wasn't the game. It was a four-word phrase I kept hearing everywhere, and the way an entire country decided to live inside it for a month.

 "¿Y si sí?"

If you were anywhere near Mexico this summer, you heard it or saw it everywhere… from hats to billboards to grocery receipts.

So what does it mean exactly? 

 "¿Y si sí?" roughly translates to "but what if we do?" or "what if it happens?" or “what if we win?” Nobody claims to have invented it. It just rose up out of the stadiums somewhere and turned into the unofficial heartbeat of the tournament. It's not a promise. It's not "sí se puede" - the old rally cry that insists you can. It's softer and, honestly, braver than that: it's a country choosing to entertain the possibility of winning before anything is guaranteed. It’s hope manifested. 

As my friends and I watched Mexico's last game against England, packed into a bar like sardines, surrounded by locals who had no idea I couldn't have explained the offside rule to save my life… my heart rate and hope were busting through my green jersey. “Y si sí” chanted every time something good or something bad happened. The energy was palpable as we glued our eyes to the screen and vehemently agreed or disagreed with the ref’s last call. Again, me having no clue why someone deserved a red card in the first place. 

A goal. A roar. A cheer. A held breath. A complete release of pent-up energy. A passion and hope beyond anything I've seen. They believed “Y si sí” to the very last second. And when Mexico lost 2-1, they didn’t react in a way contrary to “Y si sí.” They didn’t curse, or fight, or even cry… they sang. …as I’ve learned the Mexicans do. Mariachi ballads filled the bar, and people began swaying back and forth dramatically, singing to one another. It was truly beautiful. No disappointed silence, no angry cursing, just deep and passionate singing. 

Nobody blamed the players. Nobody spiraled into what-ifs about the referee or the red card or the we were robbed mentality. What I heard was, “They gave us everything,” “I’m so proud of them”, “They played really well”, “They did amazing”. Pure love, pure pride, pure honour. No conditions attached. I've never seen a country lose so gracefully, or love something so unconditionally in the same breath.

"¿y si sí?" mattered more than the score. The phrase was never actually about guaranteeing a trophy. It was permission to hope out loud, in public, without fear, and to still be proud of the effort even when hope doesn't pan out exactly the way you pictured it.

The Life Lesson I Didn't Ask For

I moved to Mexico City this year chasing a version of my life I couldn't fully picture yet. I didn't have the whole plan mapped out. I still don't. And if I'm honest, I was carrying the fear-filled belief that’s the opposite of "¿y si sí?" The subconscious fear of what if I move to Mexico City and have to return with my head down low, saying a version of “I didn’t win”... ashamed and expecting people to say, “Well, I don’t know why you thought you would”. 

Watching an entire country stand in a bar and shout for a team that was down two goals, then keep loving that team just as loudly after the loss, rearranged something in me. Not because Mexico won. They didn't. But because losing didn't cancel out the hope. Hope was the point. The belief was never contingent on the outcome; it just needed somewhere to live for a little while. The pride of going for gold even when the outcome favours Argentina. 

I think about the decisions I've talked myself out of because I ran the "what if it doesn't work" scenario on a loop until I had a good enough excuse to stay put. Moving here despite my fear of it failing was me walking out “y si sí”. And now I'm the person sitting in a café in Reforma, five minutes from a monument that turned into a shrine for hope and love of going for gold. 

So here's what I actually want to leave you with, soccer aside: what if you asked "¿y si sí?" about the thing you've been talking yourself out of? Not because it's guaranteed to work out. Mexico's didn't, and they're still proud of what they built. Ask it because the hoping itself is worth doing out loud, in public, without a backup plan for how you'll feel if it doesn't land. Go for gold. Love yourself when you fall short of bronze. Be proud of your courage to try. Be proud of your effort to do your best. Be proud of your faith, despite odds. Let yourself believe it before you know how it ends. “Y si sí” is worth more than any souvenir I could bring back to Canada, as this now lives deep in my heart alongside the mariachi music that now runs in the background of my brain as I continue to go for gold and love me short of bronze.