Vamos Vamos Argentina

There is nothing in America that I can use to adequately compare the excitement and passion with which Argentina regards soccer.  Multiply the national enthusiasm for NASCAR by the amount of laps they do and you won’t come close.

The Argentine passion is best accurately described as a microcosm of the global fanaticism of the sport.  To put it in perspective of viewers, lets look at the quintessential America mega-event; the Super Bowl.  The last four have broken the 90 Million viewers mark, with XLIII (Steelers vs. Cardinals) topping the list with 98 Million.  It was estimated by various sources that the average viewership of a World Cup Finals match was 95 Million, and an estimated 260 million watching the Championship match.  Meaning virtually every day for a month more people watched soccer than watched the final episodes of M*A*S*H* and Dallas combined. *

Last saturday, I got a firsthand taste of the Argentine fútbol fervor.  Some of us got tickets to an Argentina vs. Perú World Cup Qualifier match.   It’s something I doubt I will ever forget, for multiple reasons.

Just getting to the stadium gave us a glimpse into just how seriously they take it.  The roads were all closed up to seven blocks away from the stadium.  Giant mobs of people all shuffling in the same direction through the crowded streets.  We had to pass through three ticket checkpoints complete with Armed Police in Riot Gear before we even got to the stadium.  At the stadium we queued up to get patted down before entering.  They must’ve only been checking for guns because it was the easiest security check I’ve seen.  Once past the checkpoint, and up the stairs, the stadium opened before us.

65 Thousand people crammed into that stadium, many with standing room only.  The aisles on either side of our seats were full of people for the duration of the match.  After the slightly long national anthem that none of us knew the words too, we sat down… well, at least some of us did.  In the midst of the big city, it’s easy to forget that you live in a third-world country.  The stadium seats left no doubt as to that fact.  Rickety wooden boards rotting from years of use with rusty bars for armrests.  This posed two problems for me.  First off, my friend Channing and I were the two tallest people there, and both of us didn’t fit into our seats.  Our legs sticking out at odd angles had no room to move in the space between our seats and the ones in front of us.  I had another problem in that my bootylicious backside was wider than the space between the armrests.  Once I finally got seated, I was pretty much stuck there.  Thanks to my Dad’s legs, and my Mom’s butt, I am genetically designed to not fit in those seats.

For the first half, the Argentine goal was on the opposite side of the pitch from us.  It mattered little considering the first half was scoreless.  10 minutes into the second half, after they had switched sides, Argentina scored.  I actually missed the goal because everyone around me stood up, and It took me a good 20 seconds to free myself from the seat.  The celebrations went on for a good minute.  The only thing that was conspicuously missing was the announcer screaming “gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooool” for as long as his breath could last.  In fact, there was no announcer at all.  No announcer, no scoreboard, and no time clock.  Everyone there was expected to keep track of events, time left, and score for themselves.

Around the 70th minute, it started to rain.  I remember with a crisp precision the first drop that fell.  I remember it so vividly because it was big.  It was a solitary thick wet drop sent as a warning of things to come.  In under a minute, his friends showed up, each of them just as big.  By the time the match got to stoppage time, every soul was drenched.  Many fled to the dry security of the entrance gates, most, stayed, completely unfazed.   It didn’t take long for Perú to score, coming right out of the gate to tie the game 1-1.

Argentina needed to win this match.   Losing would’ve been a disaster of cataclysmic proportions.  Perú is in last place in the South American pool.  Argentina has been struggling, even getting booed off the field after a tie against Paraguay.  Their World Cup chances and by proxy, their national pride rested on scoring again in the next five minutes.  The intensity of the weather reflected that of the match.  The rain, by now a full-fledged thunderstorm fell by the bucketload.  The wind mixed with the constraints of the stadium created a maelstrom of water.  It was a fishbowl, the only time I’ve ever gone to a soccer game only to leave it a water polo match.  Everyone was standing (fine by me) and soaked.  We didn’t even bother with hoods anymore at this point.

Nobody in this photo was dry

The rain was so thick, we couldn’t see the opposite side of the field.  Then in the last minute, off a corner kick, the ball was lost in the mess, bouncing from player to player like a pinball game, when it found it’s way outside to Martin Palermo, a local player in as a substitute, who kicked it in for the winning goal, 2-1.

What happened after that goal can only be described as an explosion of communal euphoria.  Everyone was jumping up and down in the rain chanting “PALERMO!” and Singing the club song “Vamos Vamos Argentina” Diego Maradona was sliding through the wet grass in ecstasy, Palermo himself was circling the field shirtless in a “Shawshank Redemption” pose.

It was just mass chaotic excitement.  Everyone was soaked to the bone, but nobody cared.  Even after the game as they streamed out into the streets, singing and chanting that much harder, by now having to compete with the thunder and lighting.  The electricity from the lighting that lit up the sky was seemingly channeled into the passion of the crowd as they surged through the city.  Argentina still must defeat Uruguay on wednesday, but the ending of that match, as close to a buzzer beater as you get in soccer, made it more memorable than the most dramatic championship.

* My American Pride dictates that I must make the caveat that the Superbowl pulls roughly the same viewership as World Cup Matches with an audience of only Americans.  Also not counting how many people watch the Big game globally.  The 4% that is America puts up proportionally better numbers than the other 96% of the world? Given, the rest of the world doesn’t have quite as many televisions as the U.S. does. (Furthermore, Princess Diana’s Funeral was watched by 2.5 Billion people, kicking the crap out of anybody’s sporting event.)

Explore posts in the same categories: Sports