I've been in tornadoes. I've been in earthquakes. None of them comes close to the pulsing of a 10 story stadium to the beat of almost a hundred thousand people. Well, not really people, futbol fans. They're a different breed.
Until recently, I've never really been too into soccer. To be honest, my midwestern upbringing kind of biased me against the sport. Boys played football, girls played futbol. The truth is, though, that I've never been surrounded by more people that could kick my ass. Easily. It didn't hurt that, no surprise, I went about everything wrong.
First of all, every local that knew I was going to the game told me two things. 1)Be careful. 2)Don't sit in "el popular". The general admission section has a notorious reputation, and it's even worse for big games. Guess where my ticket was. Knowing that we could be heading towards certain doom, my friends and I arrived two hours before the game started, to get there in time to find some good "seats". By the time we got there, the B team was playing and unnecessarily warming up the crowd. There was a decent amount of people, but we could still pick which general area we sat in. We chose a relatively free area that the locals seemed to be avoiding. We assumed it was because it was by a wall, and therefore lame. We were wrong. As soon as we got situated, we felt the beating of several drums. It was The Superfans.
Now, I'd better clarify my word choice here, because my buddies in high school used to call themselves The Superfans. They had a cardboard "D" and fence that they'd bring to our basketball games. Here, they'd get the shit kicked out of them. By the grandmas.
The Argentine Superfan has no more than 7 teeth (a strict requirement), Adidas shoes (equally worn down from chasing balls and foreigners), several accessories that I'll get to in a bit, and only the minimum amount of clothing required by law. He is a direct descendant of the Colosseum fans that would settle for nothing less than a visit from the lions. He has seen death and victory, and would choose either one over a loss. He is barely human.
The pack entered from the tunnel that we were using as a safety wall. There were enough to fill Yankee Stadium, and they engulfed us like hyenas on a wounded deer. With military efficiency, they proceeded unrolling banners that could cover a football field. Some were run across the stands as a type of patriotic roof, others were strung from the top to the field and acted as express transports for people and supplies. Once the decorations were in place (this description would warrant a stabbing according to Superlaw), they started distributing the paper rolls. A small forest's worth of cash register rolls were thrown (hard) at every man, woman, and child in reach. They were courteous enough to send several offerings my way.
Just a little reminder: the game hasn't even started yet.
The crowd was given strict instructions to wait until the team emerged (with several violent reminders to those who jumped the gun). When the players emerged, what little bit of the field I could see through the banners was covered with a sea of white. The stadium erupted with cheers, and Helen Keller would have had to cover her ears.
Once the game got started, nothing else mattered. There wasn't a jumbotron, there weren't cheerleaders, there wasn't even music. Just futbol. There were, however, soda hawkers, and they deserve special mention. When Coke cadets graduate from stadium boot camp, only the most talented even have a chance at getting into the Latin American soccer scene.
I, however, couldn't see shit. As mentioned, I was right behind some guys that were a little excited. They stood on the railings in front of us so that I was forced to look between legs and banners to even get a glimpse of the action. But fighting for one's life sure passes the time. The first half ended pretty quickly, and we snuck out as quietly as possible the first chance we got. We went to the outermost fringe of el popular to get some semblance of civility. What I could see was actually pretty good soccer. The game ended with the anti-climatic score of 0-0, exemplifying my only problem with the sport, their acceptance with a tie. Oh well, at least it's another story!
M
