Living Against the Current in Monterrey: Reflections on Identity and Ritual

Monterrey, Sunday afternoon. The air smells of grilled meat, a constant in the city. I remember a neighbor from years ago who embodied that ritual. His giant Tigres flag covered the entire façade of his two-story house, like a declaration of loyalty. The speakers, set up in the garage, played the team’s anthem on an endless loop while he fired up the coals on his mobile grill. Every beer he pulled from the cooler seemed to mark the rhythm of the afternoon, waiting for the game to start. It was a sacred ritual, a weekly cycle that only stopped the day his wife found out he had a lover. Since then, the house has been empty, and Sundays next door have never been silent again.

The question I would hear whenever someone new arrived at the office was inevitable: "Are you a Tigres or Rayados fan?" It was how salespeople tried to find common ground before a negotiation. My response always caught them off guard: "I don't like soccer." Sorry, but soccer has never thrilled me, except for brief moments, like when Maradona played. I share Jorge Luis Borges' opinion: the popularity of soccer is inversely proportional to that of literature, or perhaps to intellectual curiosity.

When I travel for work, the questions never change: "Who do you root for, Tigres or Rayados?", "Do you grill every weekend?", "Do you drink beer like it’s water?" It seems that being from Monterrey without being a fan of one of the teams is an anomaly. And don’t even get me started on grilling: why go outside to grill when you have a stove at home? We left the caves long ago, gentlemen. As for beer, I enjoy a Heineken from time to time, but only for the taste. It's funny, isn’t it? Those who drink a lot of beer prefer the "light" version, which tastes like water. They drink it so cold that they can barely taste what they’re drinking. It's even more amusing that those who despise Heineken do so because "it’s too strong." Aren’t they supposed to be beer enthusiasts?

In Monterrey, not rooting for Tigres or Rayados makes you an oddity. I often found myself pitying the endless debates in the office between fans of both teams. Weekend winners would humiliate the losers as if soccer were an epic battle and not just a game. For me, satisfaction comes more from practicing sports than watching them. Although, to be honest, going to the gym isn't really a sport for me, it’s more like therapy.

Here, not grilling every weekend is almost a quiet rebellion. I like meat, I won’t deny it; a good steak can be an excellent source of cholesterol, essential for testosterone production. But I don’t think it’s wise to make grilled meat the main dish, especially if, like most, you don’t exercise much. Occasionally, it's fine, but not as a weekly mandate.

I’m also not a fan of drinking large amounts of beer on the weekends. I prefer to enjoy two or three beers occasionally, simply for the pleasure of tasting. Getting drunk on cheap beer that tastes like water is a "pleasure" I’ve never understood.

As Mark Twain once said: "Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to pause and reflect." And in this case, being from Monterrey and not following the norm is my little act of reflection.