November 26, 4:03pm. Ushuaia, Argentina. Honking horns, barking dogs and ecstatic human cries roused me from a peaceful siesta. After a long morning exploring the heart of the city—followed by a hearty lunch of red meat and vino tinto—I was sound asleep. I rose groggily and peered through the curtains onto the chaotic scene below. The World Cup was afoot and Argentina had just won a crucial match against Mexico. After a devastating opening-round…