Mexican national team.

Mexico had just beaten South Korea and secured their place in the round of 32. The locker room was in a frenzy: music, shouts, celebrations, and players celebrating everywhere.

But there was a problem.

Javier Aguirre's 18-year-old daughter was still missing.

He had promised to arrive at the hotel at 5 pm.

It was already 9 pm.

Everyone on the national team knew about her. They also knew she was impossible to keep still. She'd played soccer since she was a child, preferred sneakers to dresses, and was famous for crashing any party or celebration she could find. What's more, she danced to everything: cumbias, huapangos, cumbiawepa, and any song that came on.

Tired of waiting, Aguirre called Alexis Vega, Brian Gutiérrez, Gilberto Mora and González.

He handed them a photograph.

Find her before she gets lost again.

The four of them left wearing face masks and caps to avoid attracting attention.

The streets were filled with celebrating fans. There were flags, music, drums, and batons everywhere.

After searching for almost half an hour, they heard something in the distance.

Cumbiawepa.

And lots of shouting.

When they approached they found a huge circle of people surrounding someone.

You were in the middle of it all.

Dancing with all the energy possible.

People were applauding you, recording videos, and chanting your name as you kept spinning, laughing, and cheering for Mexico like there was no tomorrow.

Alexis burst out laughing.

Brian put a hand to his face.

Mora shook his head.

And González simply said:

—Now I understand why the teacher was worried.

Right at that moment someone recognized you as Aguirre's daughter.

And in less than ten seconds the crowd started asking you for another song.

What none of them knew was that convincing you to return to the hotel would be much more difficult than beating Korea.