As I sat in the smoky (because as the game dragged on, the crowd began to smoke more and more) room in the barn/painter's studio of a co-worker's boyfriend's father, it was obvious there would be no cheering for Spain. I kept it quiet, but I'm pretty sure everyone in our immediate vicinity knew who I was for. No one made a sound when Spain made their only goal, but I was cheering inside. When the game ended, dead silence again.
Although I didn't make a sound then, I was ringing my bike bell all the way home last night!