Boca! Boca!

The single coolest thing the Rebel and I did in Buenos Aires was go to an Argentinean soccer game. (I would call it "football" but it's not like this thing is required reading in the U.K.--or even voluntary reading anywhere, for that matter--and it's confusing in the U.S.) So we went to the Boca Juniors-Colon match at Boca's home stadium, La Bombonera. The Boca Juniors are one of the most popular teams as well as the current champions; I think my friend Pete, who's lived his entire life in Michigan and Buffalo, has never been to San Francisco, yet coincidentally became a "diehard" 49er fan right around, oh, Super Bowl XIX or so, probably just became a lifelong Boca fan.

Now, I've seen Red Sox-Yankees at Fenway, I've seen Michigan-Ohio State at the Big House, I've seen Bills-Dolphins at Rich Stadium back when those games actually meant something, and yes, I've seen SEC football. Boca-Colon (which is NOT a big rivalry game) at La Bombonera made those games look like pinochle night at a nursing home for deaf-mutes.

I used to be just as apathetic towards soccer as any typical American until I went to Ibiza during the Euro Cup in 2000. There was this little dive bar near our hotel where all the Dutch fans went to watch the games, and watching the games with them was my soccer epiphany. I'm of the opinion that if you can't enjoy soccer after watching a high-stakes game with true fans, then either (a) you're incurably close-minded, or (b) you just don't like sports. The Dutch fans were ten times more passionate than even the craziest SEC football fans, but more importantly, they were there to have fun. Combine the two and that's the best of what sports has to offer. And it helps that European and South American soccer fans tend to include a lot of reeeeeaally hot women. I remember meeting this one Dutch girl after Holland had crushed Yugoslavia 6-1; she was a dead ringer for Virginie Ledoyen and spoke four languages. Let's just say I don't expect to encounter that at the Bills game this weekend.

I digress. We went to the Boca game with a company that specializes in taking foreigners to soccer games; the company sends an interpreter, drives you to and from the game, and provides tickets. It's a little pricier but we didn't feel like making our way to La Boca (one of the sketchier neighborhoods in BA) by ourselves and I sure as hell didn't think I could negotiate with a scalper--I speak this rare dialect of Spanish known as "Retard Spanish." So they herded all the members of these tour groups into a bar next to the stadium; it's pretty much the only time English was the majority language spoken in Argentina and definitely the only time I had to pay more than a dollar for a beer.

But two hours before the game, from inside a bar across the street, you could still hear these insane bastards in the stadium screaming like cats in a washing machine. They were all singing Boca songs along with the band--and when I say "band", I mean just some regular fans who managed to get an entire drum AND horn section into the stadium. And when I say "songs", I mean that for a good four hours, they went through an entire compilation of Boca-related songs without repeats; these dudes had a bigger repertoire than Prince. And a lot of these songs included the phrase "tu madre", which--heh. Awesome. Hypothesis--in any language, the phrase "your mother" almost always leads to trouble.

We went into the stadium about an hour before the game; La Bombonera is one of the great venues in sports, but in terms of modern conveniences it makes Fenway look like the Starship Enterprise. Just solid concrete with peeling paint, and stairs so steep you expect to see squirrels crawling up them to store their nuts for the winter.

This means two things, though--first, you feel like you're practically on top of the action no matter where you sit. We were two rows from the top of the stadium yet I'm reasonably sure I could've spit on the referee's head. Next time, maybe. Second, all of the sound gets funneled and concentrated, and then it bounces off the concrete walls. These fans could've made themselves heard in outer space; in that stadium I thought my head would explode.

A few minutes before the game started the fans upped the volume even more--and then, slowly, the fans pulled an absolutely gigantic flag over themselves. This thing was right on top of the fans and covered practically an entire section of the stadium (see picture above); it had "JUGADOR NO. 12" (in other words, "Twelfth Man") and the phrase "Podrán imitarnos, pero igualarnos jamás", which I believe translates to "You can imitate us, but never be equal to us." They don't just talk shit about the quality of the other team, they talk shit about the quality of the other team's FANS. Good stuff.

Speaking of the other team's fans, they occupied a little section in the upper deck. There were only a couple hundred of them but they managed to be pretty damn loud, too. They were also surrounded, by my count, by NINETY policemen. My main concerns when going to a Nationals game are (1) "Do I have enough money for beer?" and (2) "Will it be too hot for jeans?" I have to say that (3) "Will my armed escort be sufficiently numerous?" never factored into the equation.

Anyway, Boca ended up winning 4-1. After every goal, the fans at ground level in the goal sections, which are standing-room only, sprinted towards the fence separating them from the field and starting moshing like they just lost their virginity in a threesome with Angelina Jolie and Jessica Alba. Hell, they were so ecstatic some people probably WERE losing their virginity after every goal. People sang and chanted so loudly you half expected some old guy to fly down from Miami and ask them to keep it down a bit. Even after the game, a substantial part of the crowd stayed in the stadium to celebrate and party more. I couldn't blame them. It was an incredible time all around, why let the end of the game stop it?

Then again, they probably had some free time since the game ended around 7PM and there were still three hours until dinner time, because they eat late in Buenos Aires. More on that later.