Argentine Soccer, a tragic paradox. Part 1: A Monumental Tribute.

I'd like to begin by apologizing for the long silence. While I doubt many of you were anxiously awaiting my next post as those of us who read the Harry Potter series before all the books were published awaited each new installment, I hope this post manages to satisfy and perhaps surpass any expectations you did have for my blog.

Argentine soccer is a two-sided sport, one could even say it is a two-faced beast in which two opposite realities coexist, the one side is light and filled with joy, passion, and unity while the other is a pitch black pit where drugs, drunkenness, and violence reign. Sunday night I was able to see both like never before.

We'll start with the good side, but first I must provide some background info.

Last week, there was a fire in a warehouse in Buenos Aires which caused the deaths of 9 firefighters. This tragedy led to demonstrations of solidarity and support for the firefighting community mainly in Buenos Aires but also throughout the rest of the country. River Plate decided to do something along those lines to honor the fallen as well as their colleagues who survived. Unbelievably, the director of River's charity department decided to invite Fútbol Femenino to be part of the ceremony.

On Friday, our coach mentioned this plan to us but included very few details. All we knew was we would be walking a lap around the field before Sunday night's game while holding signs in support of the firefighters and encouraging the crowd to applaud the fallen heroes. That was enough to get the team excited. Imagine walking around the field at the Monumental, the largest stadium in Argentina, in front of 60,000 fans, and being announced as a team on the loudspeaker while honoring the victims of a recent tragedy. It all seemed surreal.

The one downside, however, was the time of the game. Kickoff was at 9:30 p.m., which meant that the game wouldn't end until at least 11:30, and managing to find a bus after games is always complicated, something I will elaborate upon later in this blog. I was undecided about going until my 6 foot 5 boyfriend (yes this is a fairly new development and I will discuss it further but in another post) told me he would accompany me and a couple of teammates to the stadium and back home. I'm so thankful he did.

After arriving early to the stadium, we received instructions about our role in the homage to the firefighters. About a half-hour before kick-off, we lined up under the stands by one of the gates to enter the field of play behind River's goal and with fifteen minutes to go before kick-off, we started out onto the track. Each of us was given a small sign with a phrase in support of the firefighters ("Hugs for the firefighters," "Firefighters are heroes," "River solidarity," etc) which we were to hold high above our heads as we walked around the track. Due to the tragic nature of the event, we were instructed to avoid smiling and to remain serious, a task which became more and more difficult as we progressed around the track, urged on by the crowd's applause and cheers. Each section cheered even louder as we passed by, shouting encouragement not only to the firefighters but also to our team. It is extremely difficult to put into words the emotions and adrenaline which pulsed through my veins in that moment. Joy, awe, and excitement mixed with feelings of nervousness and sadness for the lives lost in the fire. 

Finally, we made it to the midfield line in between the home and away team benches where a group of firefighters were waiting and where photographers took pictures of us from every angle. Sunday night, the River Plate women's soccer team received more media attention than it had in the entire last year. We reorganized into two equal lines and began to walk onto the field. Oddly enough, instead of looking up and around at the vast sea of fans, I was captivated by the grass. It was impeccable. Perfectly green, slightly damp, and just long enough to make sure the ball could move around at the right pace. I thought of the legends of international soccer who had played on that very surface. Messi. Kun Agüero. Trezeguet. Higuaín. Falcao. Shivers went up my spine and goosebumps covered my skin. 

We split along both sides of the center circle, spread out evenly with our signs held as high as possible over our heads, soaking in the atmosphere. It seemed as though time stood still as we waited, unsure of what would happen next. The crowd began to sing and cheer even louder as the Barra Brava made its way into the stadium with drums beating steadily and voices raised in song. Unbelievably, the cheering seems even more intense and louder on the field than in the stands. It's like you are in the center of a massive choir, slightly less holy than your typical church choir, however, and perhaps less musically gifted. A group of firefighters was announced and made an emotional entrance onto the field, filling in the gaps between myself and my teammates. Suddenly, the crowd began to roar as the home team's starting line-up was announced, then boos and hisses began to rain down as the announcer listed the opposing team. At this point, due mostly to tired shoulders, we lowered our signs to waist-height and awaited more instructions.

All of a sudden, players from both teams began to make their way onto the field, my teammates and I exchanged confused glances, unsure of what would happen next. After the teams lined up to shake hands and take the pre-game team pictures, the players from both teams lined up alongside us in the center circle. I was on the away team side and was sandwiched between two players from Gimnasia La Plata while my teammates on the other side were flanked by River Plate's starting 11. Everything seemed unreal. There we were, standing in the middle of the Monumental, the same stadium which hosted Argentina's first World Cup victory in 1978, standing next to some of the best players in the Argentine first division, and listening to the cheers and songs of over 60,000 people dressed in the red and white of River Plate. I tried to imagine what it would be like to play in front of such a crowd every week. Do the players get used to this?

It was truly a beautiful moment, one I'm not sure I'll ever experience again. Tears began to cloud the eyes of few of the firefighters as the crowd began to applaud in honor of those who had lost their lives in the fire. A moment of silence followed then more applause before the teams left the center circle and made their way to their respective sides. Still in shock, we lined up once again and began to walk off the field, looking back toward where the teams were preparing for kick-off to make sure we hadn't been dreaming. (Here's a video of the tribute )

This is what soccer is about, I remember thinking. Coming together and sharing in joys and sorrows, from the celebration of a game-winning goal or a championship to the mourning of a Súper Clásico lost to a bitter rival to the honoring of fallen heroes after a national tragedy, this is fútbol. Soccer is being able to marvel at your team's beautiful passing sequences leading to goals (or great saves by the goalkeeper) or being able to grudgingly admit that the opponent's goal was a stroke of pure genius. Soccer is jumping up and down and hugging a nearby stranger just because he's wearing the same color jersey as you after the final whistle blows to indicate the end of a thrilling match with your team up a goal. Soccer is taking your children to the stadium, teaching them when to cheer and when to jeer, holding them in your arms, pointing out the different players and their positions, and jumping up and down with them while singing your team's songs. Soccer is the breaking down of social barriers and the unification of 60,000 people through a shared passion for the same club. Soccer is "the beautiful game," and I love it.

I wish I could say that Argentine soccer ends here, that going to watch a game is only a positive experience, but unfortunately it's not. Remember that dark side I mentioned earlier? Well, it definitely exists and sometimes even overtakes the good. For now, however, I'll leave you with this bright and happy image of soccer here in Argentina, but this story will be continued as I share about my trip back home from the game in my next post...