When I arrived at MetLife for Sunday’s World Cup final, I had already checked in to two red eye flights departing a few hours later: one to Madrid, the other to Buenos Aires. The moment the final whistle blew, I planned to step onto the plane bound for the winners’ country and wake up in the capital of the new world champions.
When I arrived at MetLife for Sunday’s World Cup final, I had already checked in to two red eye flights departing a few hours later: one to Madrid, the other to Buenos Aires. The moment the final whistle blew, I planned to step onto the plane bound for the winners’ country and wake up in the capital of the new world champions.
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