dale dale dale and almost die in the process!!

there's nothing like being awoken from a nap with an hijo de puta and concha tu madre tirade. one september afternoon, i was ripped from a blissful sleep to these guttural screams of my 16-year old host brother iñaki. in my half-asleepness, i panicked and thought something serious had happened.

i guess something serious kinda had happened?? at least, if you had asked my argentine bro, he would claim so. the referee had made a bad call against his beloved team, river plate, and iñaki was NOT pleased. in the midst of his seemingly never-ending tirade of "basura, basura, basura!!!" (trash), accompanied by even louder complaints from a group of guys on the floor above us, i decided that before leaving argentina, i simply had no choice but to attend a soccer game between local teams. early on in the semester, i was lucky enough to attend the "friendly" between spain and argentina, which was an absolute ball but didn't quite capture the same insanity that unfolds when local teams go at it on the field. if there's one thing that argentines are more passionate and crazy about than politics, it's, without a doubt, soccer.

in november, the date for the famous superclásico rolled around, the biggest athletic event of the year in argentina when rival teams river plate and boca juniors go head-to-head. i had told iñaki that if he ever heard anything through the grape vine about non-members getting tickets to let me know asap, even though he warned me that nabbing a pair would be almost next to impossible. i explained that i was willing to pull some sketchy moves to make it all happen.

fortunately, i didn't have to pull any sketchy moves for the tickets, though i did have quite the adventure getting them once and for all. while i was in mendoza with my friends for the weekend, he sent me a link saying there would be general tickets on sale starting at 10am the monday i was set to arrive back home. when i stumbled back into the apartment at 7am, delirious with lack of sleep and my hair looking like a tornado had just descended, he was fortunately still getting ready for school and when i asked him if there was ANY possibility of getting tickets and whether it would even be worth trying at that point, his only answer was "ahora" (now) repeated over and over. he was practically shoving me out the door. i dropped my bags, brushed my teeth, and literally fled the building looking like a trainwreck and starving beyond belief but determined to nab myself a pair of tickets. the morning doorman was quite perplexed when i sprinted out of the building only ten minutes after i had arrived. (later he was NOT pleased to find out that i would be cheering for river and not for boca, his personal team of choice).

in my desperation to get to the river stadium as soon as possible, i hopped into a taxi for an expensive ride to the neighborhood of belgrano. there was no way i was gonna risk a colectivo fail (my colectivo success rate is roughly 2%) and lose time trying to find my way across the city. when we arrived, i will never forget stepping out of the cab and being greeted by the fixed stares of roughly 100 HOMBRES PUROS (PURE MEN). like, SUCH manly men. burly, greasy, tough looking, hard-core fans down to the bone. i was definitely weaseling my way into what was a total male domain. there was not a single female in sight. and, other than my extraterrestrial self, there was DEFINITELY not a single blond, young, tall, blue-eyed, or american woman in sight. suffice to say, i was a little intimidated and a little out of place. nonetheless, i held my head high, my shoulders back, and tried my best NOT to trip as 100 sets of confused eyes followed me to my place in the back of the line. i settled in for the next three hour wait, in what would become an epic battle between the clock and my bladder and the weather.

in my hurriedness, i had completely neglected to dress for the occasion and arrived wearing jeans, sandals, and a tiny little windbreaker. the clouds overhead were pretty menacing and i literally spent the entire time praying to god the downpour would hold out until i got my ticket. everyone around me was well-prepared with coats and umbrellas. great moment was when the samoan-sized security guard took one look at me and my strappy sandals, as some light droplets started to fall, and outright laughed at me. when the rain started, a nice peruvian guy named jorge took pity on me and gave me some refuge under his umbrella, while we chatted. he gave me good advice on what tickets and what section to buy and, after surviving the rain and the line together, we split a cab ride in the total downpour to the bus we both needed. thank god for nice people and random acts of kindness towards hopeless gringas like me.

after a week of anticipation, the day of the superclásico finally arrived. after a crazy morning of classes and tutoring, i rushed home to change into my red shirt (wearing any shade of boca blue would have probably gotten me killed. no big deal.) and head out to the river plate stadium with thomas.

my immediate reaction upon arriving at the stadium: THIS IS WAR. literally, i felt like i was stepping foot onto a battle ground. the war-like atmosphere only got more and more intense over the course of the game. argentine's take their soccer very seriously and you constantly have to be watching your back. fortunately, river had several thousand security guards on duty for the event.

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thomas and i settled into our midfield seats and took in the unbelievable scene in front of us. the die-hard river plate fans, referred to lovingly as los borrachos del tablón (the drunks of the terrace), were in full swing in their barra brava sections behind one of the goals. Thousands chanting anthem after anthem, swinging enormous flags, and eventually covering the entire section with a massive river plate banner.  the first half remained tied at 0-0. at the beginning of the second half, river finally caught a break and scored after many failed attempts. naturally, the place went absolutely wild. just uncontrollable. i was totally expecting that and joined in on the fun!!!

I TOTALLY wasn't expecting what came next though.... in response to the well-deserved and well-done river goal, the boca fans whipped out giant FIRE BOMBS. i am not kidding. they were big, flaming, balls of FIRE. my only response was an eloquent WHAT. THE. FUCK. IS. GOING. ON. the fire bombs were pretty nuts to begin with. but THEN, the boca fans started launching them over the balcony and attacking the river fans below. it was terrifying and i was thanking god that i was NOT in the "popular" section. whoever chooses a seat underneath boca fans it LITERALLY risking their life. the entire lower section of river fans fled the scene and police forces regained control in the boca upper section. but no one was arrested or taken out as far as i could tell from my seat.

the boca section becomes incensed after river's goal (literally). look at the fire bomb in the bottom right corner, destined for a river fan!! many more would be flung from above during the next few mins. 

river eventually won the game 1-0 and celebrated with endless confetti, probably consisting of several thousand clarín newspapers. by the end of the game, i was thrilled to have been a witness to what my apartment porter referred to as the most magical event in all of argentina. i don't know if i would call the superclásico magical per-se, but it was definitely an unforgettable sight to see. to avoid riots and violent clashes among the different fans, the boca fans were herded out by police after the game and directed away from the stadium. we rivers fans waited a good 20-30 minutes before being allowed to exit the stadium and then hit the streets for celebration. the city was alive with energy for the rest of the night, every colectivo packed with river fans hanging out of the windows screaming "yo soy de river" and asking the drivers to honk their horns incessantly.

between the boca bombs and the river firecrackers, the stadium was an absolute war zone. the argentine soccer stadium is a symbolic battleground as well, a warring center stage where neighborhood pride is visibly contested, the traditionally working-class boca neighborhood going up against the elitist, affluent river fans of suburban belgrano. in that sense, the soccer game becomes much more than just a game, but rather a symbolic reflection of socioeconomic clashes. winning the superclásico is a bigger deal for the fans than for the players themselves: whichever community wins can proudly claim that they are superior not just in soccer but in heart, in wealth, in class, whatever they want.

here, soccer is more than just a pastime or a passion, it's literally organizes the social framework of buenos aires society.  i have my own criticisms of the soccer world here, because so much of what i've observed makes me rethink of the game not just as a fun pastime, but more of a stage for discrimination. i'm all about booing your opponents (giants vs. dodgers durrrr) but the argentines use the rivalry as a guise for ethnic and socioeconomic discrimination. for example, in my host brother's facebook album of photos from the game, the caption underneath a photo of the boca's partially empty fan section reads "you didn't even fill up on a superclásico. did the buses from bolivia not arrive??". certain soccer cheers are equally offensive and exclusively characterized by insulting the social demographic of an opposing team's fan base, be it jews or lower class workers or latin american immigrants. the culture of soccer in argentina is one grounded more in discrimination than diversion. i love soccer and i love argentina, but that doesn't really sit well in my stomach.

so, i'm not sure where i totally stand on the soccer thing in argentina, but one thing i do know for sure is that it's a world of utter MADNESS!!!