Autumn had just arrived in the neighborhood; the first yellow leaves flooded the streets of El Reducto. It was April 6, 1919, and there, a love so beautiful and infinite was born that not even the most optimistic of those young visionaries could have imagined...
The story began as a prologue to the twenties. First in the back of some courtyard in San Martin, then in a small field in the heart of El Reducto near the current intersection of García Morales Street, where the Vilardebó now stands. There, the first gatherings unfolded, the initial chases, the first scuffles, and, of course, the inevitable first troubles.
First, it was Yuyito F.C., then we adopted the name of another street in the neighborhood, Guaycurú, until the sense of belonging was so strong, and perhaps seduced by the splendor brought to its name by our brothers from Avellaneda and Paris, "Racing" became forever etched in the ear of any follower of Uruguayan football. Because that's how our first love was born, that's how our eternal love was born, that's how Racing Club de Montevideo was born.
It was April 6, 1919, the day when the birth was officially recorded, and it was the old San Martín and Guadalupe station that gifted us the colors that still endure to this day. In that place, the horse-drawn tram was stored, the last one to traverse Montevideo, carrying the green and white through the city.
Word got around that the nicknames came very quickly. Racing became the team of the "cerveceros" (there was the old field, in front of Colegio Poveda, and of course: the famous Brewery), despite the fact that, with the passage of time and in favor of the sentiment that accompanied their football antics, the "cervecero" (beer-related) turned into "la academia" (the academy). This transformation was a result of the well-played football classes that unfolded on the fields, beyond the result and despite the formidable opponent of the moment.
Then came the year 1942, and with it, our last move, as that year we arrived in Sayago, our home: Parque Osvaldo Roberto.
Through the passing years, work, ideology, romanticism, or perhaps simply destiny, have seeped into our blood, gifting us with the beautiful luster of having a mode as particular and lyrical as it is vulnerable. To approach the game on any field, in any division, and against any opponent.
Thus was born our identity, our fingerprint, our essence, and our will—to enjoy the almost playful existence of our team in a professionalism of clenched teeth, furrowed brows, and demands that only admit victory. To win in any form and manner, by any means and at any cost. Our identity is to hear a shout that the years and the evolution of the sport cannot erase from the throats of any fan and that echoes every weekend on the fields where "la escuelita" plays, that cry of "Juegue Racing, juegue" (Play Racing, play) - so atypical in the palate of the fans of our aggressive Uruguayan football, but so familiar to us, the enamored, the suffering, the romantic, the lyrical, and the fanatical. We are the loyal fans of the old Racing de Sayago.