Dhaka, June 16 -- I have been doing embarrassing things in the name of Argentina for longer than I care to admit.

The worst or maybe the best, depending on how you look at it, happened sometime in Grade 8 or 9.

It was the Copa America, a match was scheduled for 7am, and I had to go to school.

I walked into class carrying that specific, unbearable anxiety of someone who desperately needs to know a score.

And for reasons I cannot fully explain to this day, it did not occur to me to look it up online.

The internet simply did not exist in my brain at that moment. What existed was one friendly teacher and his phone. So I took his permission and called my friend to ask the score.

Another teacher caught me. Assuming I was up to something t...