¡Viva, Viva La Boca!

To go to South America and not go to a soccer game would be nothing short of foolish. Upon arriving in Buenos Aires we immediately did the foolish thing and booked tickets for a Sunday game through our terrifying, and disgusting budget hostel. Although we had been saying all along that we would not do a tour to a soccer game...that we were completely capable of doing it ouselves...we did in fact end up in the so called tour, which included the general admission tickets (standing room only), transfer to the stadium, and pizza & drinks. In hindsight, we now realize that we could have easily made it to the stadium on our own, had the best dinner the city had to offer and sat right along the sideline for less than we paid for the 'tour'. Classic. Had we done it on our own though we wouldn´t have this interesting experience to talk about.

La Boca is the neighborhood, the Juniors are the team, and as we approached the stadium you could feel the energy. Inside was a madhouse and the stadium was packed. The fans have five or six songs that they all sing together with incredible timing at various times during the game, and the crowd is never still--always moving, jumping and swaying in a sea of navy blue and bright yellow.

The tickets that came with our package were behind one of the goals, and behind a massive fence topped with barbed-wire, and on the other side were several police officers in riot gear...helmets with face shields, vests, clubs in hand. Serious stuff. At the end of the first half it was 2-0 for the home team, and that´s when I felt something wet hit the side of my face. I looked up at the blue sky...hmmm mysterious. Then the strange precipitation got more and more frequent, and when it hit peoples shirt is was white and foamy. No, not snow and not rain, but a more unpleasant kind of precipitation coming from fans of the visiting team in the stands above. Spit....lots of it, too. In fact, it started to come down at halftime and it didn´t end until the game was over. The Boca fans turned towards the visitors, yelling what sounded like horrible things in Spanish while shaking their fists. Then they would turn back to the game, laughing, and continuing to enjoy the action on the field. A guy a row in front of us turned and with a smile said, ´´Souvenirs.´´

Spit, as disgusting as it is coming from another persons mouth, won´t do you any physical harm. That´s when other debris started to hit the stands around us. Where they got this stuff I have no idea, but it started with small rocks. Some of them drawing blood on the heads of spectators. In fear everyone pushesback up under the stands to seek shelter. Then a big rock comes down and hits an area (cleared out because of the spit) with a loud crash. The disgust and partial amusement turns into concern as a piece of the stands makes its way down. This is enough to mae the locals yell at the police officers who are standing there, seemingly unamused with the chaos behind them. Now down by four goals the visitors do the unthinkable and throw over a 30kg bag of what appeared to be concrete mix. Again, it hit the spot that everyone had moved away from, but it sounded like a bomb when it landed on our level.
To the left is Shanon covering herself from the 'rain', in Jared´'s jacket, of course.

There was never any anger from the local fans...it just seemed to be another game, and another victory for the Juniors. Why they put the fans of the visiting team above the home crowd is a mystery--especially if these antics occur at every game.

This is South American futbol, and it was everything I expected, with some terrifying and disgusting additions. I guess all´s well that ends well.