In Mexico, the beautiful game finds its home not only in polished stadiums but also in the most unexpected corners of the cityscape.
A crater becomes a field
Deep inside the extinct Teoca Volcano, a natural crater known as the Field of the Gods serves as a Sunday pitch for local amateur teams, its rugged basalt walls echoing with cheers.
Fourteen‑year‑old Humberto Guadalupe, nicknamed “Messi” by his peers, spends his afternoons training on makeshift pitches, dreaming of a professional contract that could take him beyond the volcanic rim.
In the UNESCO‑listed canals of Xochimilco, players hop aboard colorful trajineras to reach grass fields that float on water, a spectacle that blends sport with tradition, yet one that threatens the fragile habitat of the endangered axolotl salamander.
Ecological trade‑offs
The creation of pitches in Xochimilco can disturb wetlands and endanger the axolotl, prompting local groups to advocate for regulations that preserve both heritage and recreation.
Reuters photographer Raquel Cunha spent three months criss‑crossing the capital and its outskirts, using map apps to locate hidden fields and a drone to capture the action from above, selecting a shortlist of fifteen matches to document.
A cultural mosaic
Beyond the volcano and canals, soccer thrives in highway underpasses and urban lots, where makeshift goals are painted on concrete and the rhythm of the ball becomes a pulse for the community, illustrating how sport weaves through daily life.
As photographers like Cunha continue to spotlight these hidden arenas, the stories they reveal suggest that Mexico’s soccer culture will keep evolving, adapting to the landscapes that nurture it while seeking a future where passion and preservation go hand in hand.