The 1994 FIFA World Cup was more than a soccer tournament for me. It was a coming-of-age story, a family sacrifice, an emotional rollercoaster, and unknowingly, the beginning of a deeper connection to the United States and eventually to New Jersey.
I was a college student in Colombia when my mother won a raffle through a savings program known as a “cédula de capitalización.” The prize was the money to purchase two flight tickets to the United States during the World Cup. My brother and I were supposed to travel together.
But life intervened.
My brother decided he was not willing to leave his girlfriend behind for an entire month. The moment he told us, I jumped on my bicycle and rode as fast as I could through the streets of Manizales to the travel agency to exchange his airline ticket for tickets to additional World Cup matches.
That decision changed my life.
Like millions of Colombians, I grew up emotionally attached to our national team. We watched every match with faith, superstition and passion. We prayed to the Virgin Mary and El Divino Niño before games, hoping not necessarily for victory, but at least to avoid humiliation.
When Freddy Rincón scored against Germany in Italia ’90, we celebrated as if Colombia had conquered the world.
Then came 1993.
Colombia’s unforgettable 5-0 victory over Argentina in Buenos Aires felt surreal. The entire country stopped. I remember studying for an exam with little confidence we could actually beat Argentina on their home soil. The next day became a civic holiday. The replay of the match led to another unofficial celebration. That victory transformed our expectations forever.
For the first time, Colombians truly believed we could win a World Cup.
***
When I landed in the United States for the 1994 World Cup, the optimism was overwhelming. At the airport in Bogotá, they welcomed fans with necklaces in the colors of the Colombian flag.
We boarded the plane believing we were traveling toward history. Instead, we walked into one of the most painful moments in Colombian sports history.
Unknown to many fans at the time, Colombia’s preparations were surrounded by rumors of pressure from gambling syndicates and drug cartels. There were reports of death threats involving coaching decisions. The pressure on the players was enormous.
The team looked nervous from the beginning.
The opening loss against Romania shocked us. But the match against the United States at the Rose Bowl in Pasadena became something much bigger than soccer.
At the time, I did not fully understand what that game meant to American soccer culture. Years later, after moving to New Jersey in 2004, I discovered the story behind SoccerTown USA and the extraordinary role Kearny, New Jersey played in shaping the American game.
The documentary ‘SoccerTown, USA’ opened my eyes to another side of that historic match.
I learned about Tab Ramos, Tony Meola, and John Harkes — local kids from Kearny whose passion helped keep soccer alive in America during years when the sport struggled for relevance. I learned about the “Kearny Army,” supporters who traveled across the country turning away games into home games.
And suddenly, my memory of that match became more complex.
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For Colombians, the game represented heartbreak. For Americans, it represented belief.
I was inside the Rose Bowl when the United States defeated Colombia 2-1. I remember the atmosphere, the shock, and eventually the silence among Colombian fans. At one point, someone near us shouted sarcastically, “Ahora sí, a pasear” — “Now we can go sightseeing” — because our World Cup dream was over.
Then came the tragedy no one could imagine.
The death of Andrés Escobar after the tournament transformed sports pain into national trauma. An accidental own goal became tied to violence, fear and grief. More than thirty years later, Colombians still carry that wound.
But soccer has a way of bringing people back.
In Brazil 2014, Colombia dreamed again behind James Rodríguez and a new generation. Once again, hope returned. Once again, heartbreak followed.
And yet today, something feels different.
Now we support Colombia without fear and without unrealistic expectations. We have learned to enjoy the journey again.
A few months ago, during a speech at the Statewide Hispanic Chamber of Commerce of New Jersey Gala, I joked: “The older I get, the better I used to play soccer.”
People laughed, but the truth is that phrase carries a deeper meaning.
Soccer, like life, teaches us that success is not about reliving the glory days. It is about staying in the game, adapting, growing and continuing to believe even after disappointment.
That lesson applies to immigrants, entrepreneurs, communities and even entire countries.
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As an immigrant who has lived in New Jersey for more than two decades, there is something deeply emotional about knowing the 2026 FIFA World Cup will bring eight matches — including the final — to our region.
The same country where I experienced one of my greatest sports disappointments in 1994 is now home.
The same New Jersey that introduced me to the hidden history of American soccer will become one of the global centers of the game.
And perhaps that is why soccer matters so much.
Because over time, we realize there is always another side to the story.
As the Mexican singer Carín León says: “La versión que tiene el lobo no es la de Caperucita.”
The wolf’s version of the story is not the same as Little Red Riding Hood’s.
As Colombians, we lived the pain of 1994.
As Americans, Kearny lived the miracle.
Today, living in New Jersey, I can appreciate both.
The World Cup is no longer just about wins and losses for me. It is about identity, migration, memory, community and belonging.
And now, with the world coming to New York and New Jersey in 2026, it feels like the story has finally come full circle.
Luis O. De La Hoz is a SVP and New Jersey Market Manager for the Community Development Banking group at PNC Bank, as well as the Chairman of the Statewide Hispanic Chamber of Commerce.
