A Sea of Blanquirroja
Today @conmebol resumes its 2022 World Cup 𝘌𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘴.
As has held true over the past year and a half, this iteration of the eliminatorias, will again, be different.
With entities such as @laliga and the @premierleague refusing to release players to travel to join up with their national teams, many teams enter in to this phase of the tournament lacking key players in pivotal positions.
With notable absences affecting each national team, the three matches over the next week will be intriguing to follow. Todays Fixtures:
Peru v Uruguay
Bolivia v Colombia
Ecuador v Paraguay
Venezuela v Argentina
Chile v Brasil
Vamos Perú carajo
Colo Colo, Grêmio & Club Libertdad
Showcasing a few South American club kits with friends during a photoshoot at golden hour over the weekend.
From left to right:
Club Libertad - Asunción Paraguay
Colo Colo - Santiago, Chile
Grêmio - Porto Alegre, Brasil
Which kit do you love most? Let me know below.
Big thanks to @nataliaablanco7@enya.hernandez & @jadyn_e_harris modeling!
ARCHIVO FTBLITO // — Rio de Janeiro, BRA
In the shadow of Dois Irmãos.
Players juggle the ball as the sun lowers itself into the ocean, leaving the sand warm for a few moments more.
I arrive in time to see it before the moment fades to memory.
ARCHIVO FTBLITO // — São Paulo, BRA
A field built out of repetition. Culture built out of a shared community.
Different origins. Same coordinates. Weekend after weekend.
Swipe →
They don’t just play here—
they return.
Where have you had to build your own version of home through fútbol?
São Paulo, Brasil — Campeonato Boliviano
At first light, São Paulo is still waking.
Forty-five minutes from the center, I walk a worn bike path - traffic rushing past on one side,and on the other, something familiar taking shape.
Families gather. Fields marked. Players loosen their legs.
I stop with a group of women. They tell me they’re from Bolivia.
Every Sunday, they build their own version of home — a league of their own making.
Jerseys laid carefully on a traditional blanket.
Custom names, numbers and colors - creating something beautiful and unique.
I take a few photos. We talk a while longer.
Then I move on.
There’s more fútbol further down the road.
Kona — Big Island, Hawai‘i
A small goal beneath a flowering plumeria tree.
White petals scattered in the grass behind the fence.
The court is painted a faded green,
the color of old sea glass.
A crack runs across the pavement like a fault line.
On it sits a ball that has spent too many afternoons in the sun.
Palm trees lean above the metal roofs.
Apartment balconies watch quietly from the background.
In Kona, the ocean is the main attraction.
But somewhere between the palms, the chain-link fences, and the warm concrete walls, there is a court.
And somewhere on that court, a ball waiting for the next game.
—
Where in the 🌍 have you found a goal like this?
Tell me the place 👇🏽
Perú vs Brasil — Eliminatorias
Lima, Perú.
Before kickoff, the street prepares.
Peru jerseys hang from cracked walls.
Anticuchos smoke over a grill.
Fans stop at folding tables to buy the red and white before heading inside.
In the stands, Brasil answers with a drum.
Then the corner kick comes.
1-0 Brasil.
Colombia — Miami, Florida. 2025.
The stadium is still quiet.
But outside, Colombia is already here.
On folding tables and tailgates.
On grills and coolers.
In hats, shirts, and flags carried thousands of miles from home.
Spanish drifts through the parking lot.
English answers back.
Somewhere between the two, something new begins to form.
Football has always done this —
taking pieces of different places
and turning them into something shared.
Not quite Colombia.
Not quite the United States.
But something evolving between them.
Something alive.
Something beautiful.
How far from home were you the last time you watched your national team play?
Seattle - FIFA Club World Cup.
A march before kickoff.
The long climb through the stairs.
Voices reverberate across concrete.
In the stands, a woman draws the match.
Later, she adds water —
color spreading the way sound does.
A sign behind the goal.
Children watching, learning.
Ninety minutes pass.
The habit remains.
July 30, 2025 — Rio de Janeiro
A tsunami across the world.
By the time its energy reached Rio, the shoreline was violent.
Waves clearing the sand. Water slamming into the road. The coastal stretch shut down. The Atlantic pushing past its usual line.
I went for a run and cut toward the noise.
There was a goal still standing near the edge — spray hitting it every few seconds, the ocean inching closer with each set. No one playing. Just posts and heavy water.
That’s the thing about football here — it exists in tension with nature. Beach. Concrete. Mountain. Sea. The game doesn’t wait for perfect conditions. It lives wherever there’s space.
Where does futbol live in your city? Let me know.
Urawa Red Diamonds vs Inter Milan
FIFA Club World Cup
Seattle, WA
What stayed with me wasn’t the scoreline.
It was this.
Arms wide. Voice gone by halftime.
Red packed into a corner of a stadium thousands of miles from home.
Urawa doesn’t travel quietly.
They arrive together.
Scarves tight. Banners hand-painted.
A crest held over the railing like it represents more than a tournament.
Two-time Asian champions.
But more than that — a club that feels owned by its city.
This is what football culture looks like outside Europe’s spotlight.
If you’ve experienced a supporter section that feels like this — tell me where.
I’m building a list.
