“I’m a believer,” that’s what my brother texted me as yesterday’s round of 16 Champions League knockout tie between my beloved Atletico de Madrid and Inter Milan went to penalties. Like most people who know me, both my brothers are well aware of just how passionately I have followed Atletico since the 2012/13 La Liga campaign. As Lautaro Martinez skied the final kick for Inter, I celebrated with my 18-month-old son as if we’d just won the World Cup.

I left my hometown of Bowling Green, Ohio, for Madrid, Spain, in the summer of 2012. I knew that I was about to experience a lot. I fell in love with the city of Madrid almost immediately. The plazas, the people, and the food all played a part. I was in Madrid as part of my university’s study abroad program. Part of that program was the opportunity to see a soccer game at the Santiago Bernabeu stadium, home of the world-famous Real Madrid. I remember being excited to see my first “real” match in European “futbol.” I hadn’t realized until a few days before the match that I was actually just seeing a friendly match. It was enjoyable enough. However, I don’t even remember who Real Madrid played. Cristiano Ronaldo only played like 10 minutes, and that was the most excited the crowd got. I was disappointed, to say the least.

Fast forward a couple of weeks, and the La Liga season begins. I needed to scratch the itch of attending a La Liga match. However, I found it difficult to get tickets to go back and see Real. Something like 75 Euros for the cheapest seats. At the time, that was not going to be viable for me. So, I asked a couple of the Spanish students who attended classes at the small university where my classes were. One of them, a fairly tall fellow with dirty blonde hair, scoffed when I asked if there was a better way to find a ticket and responded simply, “Madridistas, hijos de puta,” which loosely translates to, “Real supporters are sons of bitches.” “Chico, vamos al Calderon.”

That Sunday, September 16th, 2012. My entire footballing life changed forever. I got off the train about an hour before kickoff, not realizing that by Spanish standards, I was comically early. I found my way into the Vicente Calderon Stadium, which was Atletico de Madrid’s home at the time and had been since 1966. Oh, the stadium showed its age. It could not have been more different than the experience at the Bernabeu. As we got closer to kickoff, the fans poured into the stadium. Unknown to me at the time, this was a match against another storied Madrid club, Rayo Vallecano. They brought their fans to the match as well. Unlike my experience watching Real, I think I was the only “tourist” at this match. What a match it was. The fans started singing the club Hymn before the match and did not stop singing until halftime. Atletico were absolutely dominant right away, scoring before the half-hour mark. There was a man that the fans around me affectionately called “El Tigre.” I knew him as Radamel Falcao. At the time, he had flowing long hair that he kept slicked back with a headband (a very early 2000s look). Every time he touched the ball near the box, it felt like he was going to score. I was in awe. At halftime, everyone in the crowd unwrapped their bocadillos from their tin foil wrapping paper. It was the only time the stadium would be quiet. The game went on, and Atleti were 4-0 up. I expected to see fans start to leave to catch early trains back home. This did not happen, and I started to see why. Rayo scored 3 goals in the last 10 minutes of regulation and almost scored an equalizer! Leaving the stadium, the fans chanted “Atleti Atleti” all the way back to the trains. I got back to my flat and had too much energy to sleep. I knew at that moment that I was an Atletico fan. “Soy del Atleti.”

A lot more would happen during the year that I lived and studied in Madrid that would make even larger marks on my life. I didn’t go to another match that year, partially because I ended up falling in love with a girl from my university back home (she is now my wife and the mother of my children). We would spend countless hours in cafes talking and getting to know each other. Atletico matches were often in the background, Falcao’s long hair bouncing as he headed goal after goal. The other patrons of the bar shouted with glee as Atletico went on to have a great season, finishing 3rd in the table behind Real Madrid and Barcelona. We left Spain in early May just before the season ended. I returned home in love with Spain, my new girlfriend, and also Atleti.

Back at home in Ohio, I was excited to watch the Copa del Rey final. It had been a magical campaign for Atletico, who reached the final to face their bitter rivals Real Madrid at the latter’s home stadium. Real Madrid had been dominant that season and were heavily favored. However, I believed. Atletico would go on to win 2-0 and vanquish their fiercest rivals in the process. An absolutely amazing end to a fantastic season.

Fast forward to yesterday. After 12 years of closely following Atleti through the ups and downs, two La Liga titles, and two Champions League Final losses (both at the hands of Real Madrid), Atletico found themselves in a familiar position down a goal to Inter Milan after the first match. There is a saying amongst the Atleti faithful, nunca dejes de creer, don’t stop believing. After conceding the opening goal and falling back 0-2 on aggregate, you could feel the energy of the Atleti home crowd. Their new stadium, the Civitas Metropolitan Stadium, has become a fortress. They have not lost at home in La Liga at all this season and have only lost one of their last 42 home games. The Atleti fans continued to cheer and believe. Antoine Griezmann quickly scored the first for Atleti, bringing the tie to 1-2. The second half was all Atletico. Shots went off the post, but Atleti never stopped believing. In the 88th minute of play, Memphis Depay scored to bring Atletico level 2-2 on aggregate and send the game to overtime. Atletico’s keeper, Jan Oblak, would ultimately be the hero on the day, saving two penalties in the shootout to put Atletico through to the quarter-finals.

We don’t know yet who Atletico will face in the next round. However, we do know that those faithful to Atleti, those fans who have suffered and elated, will believe that victory is possible until the final whistle blows. I won’t be the only fan saying to myself, “nunca dejes de creer.”