A Game Without Borders
In Mexico, the love of soccer knows no bounds. When official fields are scarce, enthusiasts carve out makeshift pitches in the most unlikely spots — under highway overpasses, inside the crater of an extinct volcano, and even on the water‑logged canals of Xochimilco.
Fourteen‑year‑old Humberto Guadalupe, known locally as “Messi,” spends his afternoons chasing a dream of professional play in the industrial outskirts of Monterrey, where the game is as much a refuge as an ambition.
At the so‑called Field of the Gods, a grass‑covered bowl sits inside the dormant Teoca Volcano near Mexico City, offering a surreal backdrop for weekend matches that draw spectators from across the capital.
In the UNESCO‑listed canals of Xochimilco, players paddle to natural grass islands on traditional trajineras, turning a heritage landscape into a vibrant arena that, while celebrated, threatens the fragile habitat of the endangered axolotl salamander.
Ecological Trade‑offs
While the pitches foster camaraderie, their construction can disturb wetlands and alter water flow, prompting conservationists to warn that the very places that nurture youthful talent may also imperil species such as the axolotl.
Reuters photographer Raquel Cunha spent three months tracking these grassroots contests, using map apps to locate hidden fields and a drone to capture the stark contrast between sport and surrounding environment.
Her lens reveals how communities stitch together spaces shaped by hardship, geography and memory, turning each improvised pitch into a social hub that pulses with the same passion as any stadium.