I have spent the last three months sniffing out every possible avenue that would lead me to the cancha. Getting Boca Juniors tickets is no easy feat I must add. Due to extreme popularity, only socios (members/season ticket holders) can get tickets for matches. There is no online or in-person box office and you get in via your contacts - however authentic or, more likely, dodgy they may be.
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| Waiting For The Call Up |
I looked at extortionately-priced tour packages - aimed at tourists that had no other route into the stadium but via a chunk in their wallets - but couldn't bring myself to pay £130+ for a football match that wasn't against River Plate (the renowned Superclásico). I spoke to Boca fans and even some socios trying to weasel my way into a ticket offer. I even got a few but in a more casual 'I'll take you to see Boca before you leave' sort of way. None of them quite came to the fore.
So chances were looking bleak. Could I really forgive myself if I'd come to Argentina, and spent a huge amount of time in Buenos Aires, without seeing Boca Juniors play? Hm, unlikely. Luckily a power above acknowledged my dilemma and sent me a contact through a friend. A contact with the golden ticket. My Willy Wonka was called Christian and was a socio and all-round Boca fanatic. He even used to play for the youth teams and had a cousin in the system at the moment. I was put in touch and I quickly agreed to buy two tickets for a match against Rosario Central - I was in and the dream was very much alive.
So during the week I went with Jamie - mate and date for the game - to meet Christian and, after a fair bit of typically Argentinean waiting around, we exchanged the cash drug-deal style and had our hands on two Boca Juniors season-tickets. Would be lying if I said we didn't have a Gollum-esq 'my precious' moment. Considering the last words Christian had said to me was along the lines of 'don't lose them or you'll have to pay', I wasn't letting them out of my sight.
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| Just two blokes hanging out |
The game was on Sunday and, much as on the Sunday in which I went to see San Lorenzo, I was suffering with a deep, deep hangover. This time a result of Taty's (host family Mum) brilliant 80's themed birthday party the night before. But who cares about a hangover when there's a football match to attend - certainly not me. I headed into Buenos Aires on the bus and met with Jamie before we headed to La Bombonera.
We had been warned, by a huge number of sources, that we needed to be careful throughout our Boca experience. Outside the stadium, inside the stadium, on the bus, in the toilets, everywhere. So with that in mind we were slightly sceptical and in a looking-over-the-shoulder mood. Yet it must be said that we experienced no bad feeling, no thieves and no danger neither before or after the game. Whether we were just lucky or examples of the result of keeping your head low combined with common sense, who knows, but it made for a much more enjoyable experience.
We entered the stadium with no problems - despite blatantly not being the named individuals on the season tickets - and felt the buzz as we took our seats in the upper tier behind the goal. We soaked in the beehive atmosphere and basked in the success of our trip so far. Due to the nature of our seats §1 view was particularly stunning too. On the right we had the pitch, pristinely cut and surrounded by an ever-growing wave of blue and yellow - the beauty of pre-match football. On the left we could see directly out of the stadium and onto the local villa (a poor neighbourhood). The contrast was stark and exemplified by the vertical wall of the 4th stand - reserved for VIPs and the ones with particular wealth.
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| The players entrance to the cauldron |
One thing was missing though. We were surrounded my people in blue and yellow - on their bodies, on their heads, in their hands. We had nothing but our very regular clothing. To do the very British thing of 'trying to fit in' we descended down to a makeshift merchandise shop (a woman with a table of fake stuff) and had a browse. I decided on an 'authentic' and quite ill-fitting Adidas Originals Boca t-shirt, whilst Jamie went for a bucket hat that wouldn't go out of place on Kevin and Perry Go Large.
We'd left our seats looking ordinary and returned looking like Boca had thrown up on us. Could sense the judgemental thoughts of 'turistas' from surrounding fans, but we were more than happy and proud of ourselves. I even got interviewed in Spanish on camera for a fans' channel/podcast about my affiliation with Boca and the stadium (which I inevitably milked big time).
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| Tevez is there somewhere I promise... |
As the home players emerged from the tunnels, there was the explosion of roars, song, confetti and coloured smoke that makes the Argentinean football experience one-of a kind. Alternately, the Rosario Central players entered to a cauldron of spitting, hissing fury as the Boca support recreated hell on earth for their opposition. I very quickly forgot that I had a Rosario Central shirt in my bag back at the house, with a fear of anyone reading my mind.
The game started frantically and we were quickly treated to a goal for each team. Boca Juniors took the lead before Rosario Central pegged them back to 1-1. With the absence of away fans the equaliser was greeted by nothing but deafening silence, it was completely surreal. Before we knew it the silence was eradicated by a massive fight between the two sets of players, and the crowd roared their gladiators on as La Bombonera soon became the Coliseum. It went on for about 5 minutes with police even entering the pitch to try and diffuse the situation. It eventually ended with two reds - one for each team - as the game became 10 v 10.
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| #VIEWS |
Considering the explosiveness of the first 20 minutes the rest of the game was a bit flat. Quality was severely lacking bar from the maestro himself Carlos Tevez. He played deeper than we had been used to seeing him in Europe but completely ran the game and proved to us that's he's still got it. Unfortunately he was surrounded by players that would do well to get a game at Leeds United and it showed in the passage of the game. A few hits of the woodwork, including one directly from a corner and another from a worldie shot by Tevez, yet the game petered out in a 1-1 draw.
Yet, for a tourist, the beauty of Argentinean football isn't about what happens on the pitch but what happens in the stands. The constant chorus and choreography of singing, dancing, jumping and generally just going mental is truly a sight to behold. For 90 minutes they ignite the stadium with a sheer desire to exhibit their passion and have a good time. From poetic songs to arm throwing to mosh pits, there's always something going on. You quickly get a sense that blood, sweat and tears are regularly sacrificed for the team without second thought. Boca Juniors is the religion.
For 90 minutes we were part of that religion. Me and Jamie jumped, shouted and sang along to (our own versions) of the songs. The game didn't do much to inspire but the fans conducted their very own show that was probably worth the price of the ticket alone. It was my second football experience here and, whilst my allegiance to San Lorenzo has not changed, it certainly consolidated why I was so desperate to see some matches here, and why I love the game. The theatre of it all is incredible and I'd encourage everyone to experience it if they can - football fans or not.
Thanks for reading.
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