I played around with many different scenarios of how and when to experience football in Buenos Aires, often regarded as the capital of football culture. The pandemic was still with us, new variants made it almost impossible to plan without the new normal of travel restrictions and everything that came with it. Last minute fixture releases didn’t help either.
There was no perfect answer and with my job expanding to a point where longer trips would become a lot harder, I settled for a short four day trip to scratch the surface, knowing there was no way you could get the full experience just once. Argentine football is so deep in its big clubs, unique stadiums and carnival atmospheres that it would keep dragging you back for more.
After many discussions with my friend on the ground, Alvaro who heads the Latin American arm of the football tour company, Homefans, I made a Boca Juniors home game against Huracan the main showpiece with games at Racing Club, San Lorenzo and Gimnasia in the same weekend.
A couple of weeks before I was due to leave, Boca announced the pitch, which had been relaid during pre season and looked sub standard in their first game, was not fully ready after all and they would be playing at neutral venues for the next few weeks. For some reason I stayed relatively calm when I got this news. Most football fans know of the iconic La Bombonera and the history and mystique that it holds but because I knew I would be going back and quickly looking at other fixtures and pinpointing Newells Old Boys, of Messi and Bielsa fame, as an alternative, I stayed positive and knew it would be an incredible trip either way. As luck would have it, everything changed two days before my trip. Boca had planned to play against Huracan at nearby Racing Club but at the last minute, under apparent pressure from their proud Ultras, Racing announced they would not be hosting their near neighbors. Boca had no choice, back to La Bombonera it was and my excitement was back at an 11 from a 10.
I arrived on Friday morning, greeted by Alvaro and was soon introduced to a young Belgian lad named Inaki who had also booked through Homefans and was going to the same games I was. Inaki was immediately likable, a season ticket holder at Royal Antwerp and a deep football knowledge. We checked into the Novotel hotel in the Theatre district which is very central and just a few blocks from the famous Obelisco, a giant tower that sits in the middle of a busy intersection and is the scene of many joyous celebrations as well as protests in the Argentine capital. The first thing we did was attempt to exchange some money. The financial situation in Argentina is a mess. I learned before I went from a traveling couple on YouTube that there is an official bank rate as well a backstreet rate, also available at Western Union which is double the bank rate. I went for the Western Union option and their easy to use app allowed me to transfer $300 US to myself for pick up. Most of my trip was pre paid through the tour company but as credit and debit cards are not commonly used I thought I’d get some cash and see how long it lasted, with the option of transferring some more if I needed it. Here is the stack of bills that Western Union gave me for $300. This would be a challenge.
That afternoon we set off in Alvaro’s car to La Plata, a city that lies around 30 miles north of the center of Buenos Aires. It is home to two top flight clubs, Estudiantes and Gimnasia.
Much to our surprise, Alvaro informed us we would be stopping at Estudiantes who weren’t playing that night, for a look around. This was great news, another stadium for the books.
The president of Estudiantes is the one and only Juan Sebastian Veron, dynamic Argentine midfielder from the 90s and 2000s.
We were thrilled to find that one of the things Verón has implemented is a pitch side cafe, open to the public all day long to encourage the local community to be closer to the club. Apparently Veron can often be found having a drink himself and happily chatting to fans.
The stadium is fairly modest in size but they pack them in tight in Argentina. I loved the concept of terracing on a second tier on top of seats on the lower tier and it wasn’t hard to imagine a raucous bouncing night under the lights. Like most stadiums in the country it was open air with little hiding place for the elements.
After a nice refreshing Patagonia beer it was time to make our way to Gimnasia. Alvaro had arranged shirts for us both which we picked up from a contact of his at the club offices. A nice touch and always good for the gringos to blend in with the locals.
Gimnasia‘s stadium is in the middle of a forest and it was a picturesque walk through overhanging tree covered streets. Dusk was setting in and the food stands got more frequent as we got close. “Choripan“ is the traditional pre match snack of fans in Argentina which is basically a sausage sandwich with a different array of toppings depending on which stand you choose. Most of these stands are run by families with small children pitching in and at all the games I saw some as young as seven or eight carrying wooden crates on their heads, helping Mum and Dad close up for the night back to the car.
Mine included egg plant, which I don’t think I’ve ever had before, at the insistence of the owner and it’s was phenomenal.
Alcohol is not served inside stadiums in Argentina and very little food choices so most fans gather outside drinking cans of beer from a street seller with ice chests and chowing down on some Choripan.
The late great Diego Maradona, or D10S (Dios = God in Spanish and the 10 was his famous number) was coaching Gimnasia at the time of his death and there are many murals inside and outside the ground. Here is Inaki and I with a couple of them.
Alvaro had arranged for us to meet with a local host who took us inside for some VIP treatment. This was unexpected and a great experience as he took us on to the perimeter of the pitch about 30 minutes before kick off and walked us around behind the goal and around to the dugouts where we posed for photos where the great Diego sat.
The visitors were Argentinos Juniors, famously the club where Maradona first made his name, making his pro debut at 15 years old. This felt like a Diego derby of sorts and the perfect start to the tour. We watched the first half from the Main Stand. The Ultras behind one goal making a non stop racket with plenty of flares and banners. The away team took a deserved lead five minutes from half time, only to be canceled out by a lovely strike from Gimnasia‘s Brahian Aleman.
Away fans are currently banned in Argentina and have been for years. This is a shame obviously as any fan of the game knows away fans usually make the atmosphere in a stadium and generally keep things edgy and hostile. As it turns out, you barely notice due to the unbelievable sound from the home fans.
Inflatable tunnels, sometimes in the shape of wild animals, escort the players on and off the pitch which is to protect the away team from being hit by flying objects.
Interestingly, each game we went to featured armed riot police with aggressive shields, weapons and equally aggressive stances, despite the lack of anyone to fight with the hosts. The only time you notice the lack of away fans is when the visiting team scores and that’s exactly what Argentinos Juniors did early in the second half as we made our way round to a corner terrace to stand for the rest of the game. Again it was a deserved lead as the visitors were clearly technically superior and Gimnasia can count themselves fortunate to equalize again through a penalty from Aleman.
It was a good game and ended 2-2. An unusual amount of goals for a South American game, typically slower than that of Europe. I had somehow managed to make it through a full day after a long haul flight with not much sleep.
The next morning I got up fairly early and had a little wander around the center of town. Buenos Aires has a rich history of immigrants, mostly from Italy and it definitely has a big city European feel to it. The differing arrays of stunning architecture dominate the skyline. It's sometimes referred to as the Paris of South America. I would say the people are friendlier.
Mid afternoon we met back at the hotel for the first of two games that evening. The first was San Lorenzo vs River Plate, kicking off at 5pm to be followed by a dash across town to Racing Club vs Talleres.
Fabio was our first host, an ardent San Lorenzo fan. Joining us for this game were a couple of lads from Denmark, one from the Netherlands and two older American fellas from Santa Barbara. We took a minibus to the stadium in which I was informed was in such a rough neighbourhood that the police don't allow you to walk to and from the ground, you have to have pre arranged transport. When I clarified that was surely just for night games i was told "no, daytime too".
We started at a social type club which seemed to be in the grounds of the stadium but a short walk away. Included in our tour was a few beers and some light food. We sat for around hour and I got to know the Danish lads, Christian and Nicolai. Brilliant lads, typically spoke fluent English and just like Inaki, a deep knowledge of the game and different cultures. It seemed they had been around the globe watching games and were great company.
The Americans were out of place. I could smell the money on them and they stated they had brought the wives down to Buenos Aires to do some shopping and this was their "boys day". They were nice enough but had very little understanding of the game and the conversations were passing them by. As we approached the stadium and stopped at a couple of merchandise stands, we lost them. Fabio was doing a great job at keeping everyone together but they had decided they were fine by themselves and wandered into the "Popular" end of the stadium where San Lorenzo's most passionate fans stand. Fabio was understandably concerned but after a quick call to them, managed to get them out before they stuck out dangerously like a sore thumb.
The stadium felt even older than Gimnasia's, with discarded construction materials lying around in eye shot beneath the concourses. The sight when you enter though is magnificent. San Lorenzo have a reputation for being some of the most passionate fans and original song writers, whose chants can regularly be heard across Europe and beyond. The sheer number of people crammed in behind the goal made for an amazing atmosphere in the first half especially.
We sat just to the side of them with a great view of the scenes going on. At all of these games it was hard to focus on the games as there is so much going on in the stands. But that's why we are here and why Argentina is top of a lot of people's bucket lists. We aren't here for the football, that's secondary. It's typically not great anyway and San Lorenzo were particularly dreadful. River Plate, one of the most famous clubs in world football were a lot more gifted but hit the woodwork three times and really should have had the game wrapped up a lot sooner.
The home side missed a penalty in the first half before Paulo Diaz gave River a deserved lead. In the second half the noise never reached the levels of the start of the game and River ran out 1-0 winners. The noise was still amazing but probably average for San Lorenzo standards. One of the Danish lads who had been there many times and said before the game it was his favourite of the Argentine stadiums, described the atmosphere as "shit" as we were walking out. I thought that was harsh but I could tell it was more subdued than normal. The fans in Argentina are renown for filling their grounds come rain or shine and creating noise for 90 minutes regardless of the result. In seemed San Lorenzo needed a slightly better product on the pitch to deserve the level of support they get. They are the favourite club of Pope Francis so perhaps some divine intervention is required. We left as quickly as we could as we had another game to catch.
Racing Club and their “El Cilindro“ home was one that I just knew I would love. I had seen plenty of videos and even a few recent games on TV and there was something about the bowl design of the stadium, the colours that match the national team and some of the silky goals I had seen them score this season that I had hyped this one up in my head.
The local host Mariano, picked us up from San Lorenzo and took us the fairly short distance to Avellaneda. He was a local journalist and spoke great English. He talked passionately about Racing on the drive and how he was a hardcore "hincha" when he was a teenager, regularly attending games in the Popular. Now as a journalist he had to contain himself somewhat and show more neutrality so this seemed like it was a rare treat for him to get amongst the lads and lasses again.
We parked up in a strangely American style strip mall and started a long walk to the stadium, drinking a can and stopping for some more Choripan (not as good as Gimnasia).
What struck me about this approach to the stadium was how English it felt. There was an edge in the air and anticipation of a game under the lights, even a dodgy looking tunnel, the familiar sound of generators powering food trucks and merchandise stands selling hats and pin badges. As we sat on the side of the road eating and drinking, a bus whizzed past with young lads singing and hanging off the sides.
An interesting feature of these four games were how different they were in their procedures for approaching and entering the stadium. Some required vaccination proof, some didn't. Some required passports, some didn't. Some had multiple check points before you got close to the stadium and some closed all the roads off around within a quarter or so of a mile. Racing was perhaps the most intense. We seemed to be in a sea of people marching to the ground and every so often were paused by a line of riot police before moving on to the next stationary point.
Racing's deadly rivals in the Avellaneda district are Independiente, although an Independiente fan the next day told me he wasn't too bothered about Racing but then proceeded for at least ten minutes to list all the reasons he hates them. Independiente hold the most Copa Libertadores (The South American version of the Champions League) - seven - of any Argentine club and the two stadiums sit virtually back to back.
I was feeling Racing, I was feeling the vibe and I hadn't even been inside yet.
We entered one of the "Populars" behind a goal, opposite what looked like the main Ultras. The view when I got to the top of the steps was breathtaking.
Mariano led us up the steep terracing towards the back, directly behind the goal. it was crowded and took me back to the nineties watching Stockport County away. In fact a lot of these experiences were like a bygone era, football culture how it used to be.
The first fifteen minutes of this game vs Talleres were electric. The whole stadium seemed to be in full voice. El Cilindro looked magnificent at near capacity and the array of songs was brilliant. I still have the tunes stuck in my head a week later, unfortunately I don't know the words. Having said that, Mariano, sensing I was having the time of my life, sent me a Whatsapp during the game with the full lyrics to one of the most popular terrace hits of Racing.
Racing took the lead early on with a sublime goal down the other end from the impressive Gabriel Hauche. Racing's football was the most free flowing I'd seen so far and their coach wears all black and looks devilishly handsome, what wasn't to love?
A red card for Talleres on 32 minutes slowed the game down enormously as the visitors packed the midfield. About a minute before the break, Mariano had a word in my ear and told me as soon as the whistle blows, sit down immediately. This is due to Argentine fans staying exactly where they are for the entire game so if you wander off for the toilet or a bite to eat, you are most likely losing your place. I followed his advice and it worked out. In the second half Racing had three goals disallowed for offside down at our end. At least I got to jump around momentarily. VAR is coming to Argentina in a couple of weeks by the way which will no doubt be a shit show as South American games seemed to have far more stoppages, pushing and shoving of referees, general melees and play acting - so God only knows what VAR will add to it.
I absolutely loved the night at Racing. It felt like the most enjoyable overall football experience all things considered. I think if I lived there, Racing would be my club. I'll definitely be back.
It was hard to imagine when waking up the next morning that La Bombonera was still to come. I already felt fulfilled in the experiences even though tonight would probably top everything. It was only a few days ago that Boca Juniors decided to play against Huracan at their famous home so I think it was an added bonus and I hadn’t had too much time to let it sink in. But I arose that morning with massive anticipation at what was to come. By the way, the weather had been fantastic. Thunderstorms had been forecast all weekend and despite taking a rain jacket to each game, it was never needed. Maybe D10S was looking down on me. The planned time to meet for the game was 4pm but Alvaro contacted me around midday to see if I wanted to watch the Manchester derby at a pub close to La Boca and gradually make our way there via subway and walking, meeting everyone else later.
I’m glad we did that because it gave me a chance to walk through the beautiful district of San Telmo, rich with street artists, performers and bustling cafes. From there we walked into La Boca and the sights and sounds of the upcoming game started to come into view.
The streets are awash with blue and yellow. Seemingly there is no ”casual“ scene like Europe where the hardcore may dress in expensive designer labels. Everyone in Argentina has something on of their club, whether that be fake or real, a team shirt, tracksuit or hat. As we walked towards the stadium with a few hours still to go to kick off, the stress started to set in a little for me. Boca must be one of the toughest tickets on the planet. Even with a tour company, there’s so much that goes on behind the scenes and a little bit of luck involved. We did a lot of walking and met with a couple of “board members” on street corners. Argentine clubs are effectively run by the fans so the main fan groups control the tickets and decide who gets in and who doesn’t. A board member looks no different to your Uncle Barry on holiday in Tenerife. The walking became excessive due to the closure of streets around the stadium. You can’t just stroll around the forecourt of La Bombonera like you can Old Trafford. The streets are fenced off hundreds of yards from the entrances, each check point guarded by riot police. When Alvaro was finally satisfied with what we needed for the night we met up with a group of about a dozen others on the same tour. The bar we met at was run by a lovely Greek fella who had lived in London for many years and his accent was still a bit muddled. He took us into an open back patio where the beer was flowing and the most delicious Empanadas I had ever tasted. There were some new people to meet. A tall handsome looking Aussie from Sydney, a loud Canadian girl who seemed to mock all things American but could have been straight out of the Los Angeles valleys herself. She knew nothing about football and was along for the ride with her French boyfriend who I couldn’t help noticing was perhaps punching above his weight slightly. There was a Colombian couple from Bogota who seemed street wise and knew exactly what to expect and then three young American lads from New York and Boston who were traveling around Argentina. One of the them was fairly clued up, West Ham fan, the other two not so much. The irritation on Inaki’s face was both amusing and understandable. It was amazing that us Europeans, finally making it to the holy grail of football culture, were joined by nothing more than tourists who had no real appreciation of what they were about to experience.
We all had the option of which part of the stadium we wanted to sit/stand in. Inaki and the tall handsome Aussie went for behind the goal with La Doce, Boca’s most ardent support. I had seen enough videos to know it would be absolutely mental and a great experience but I also knew it may be uncomfortable as a middle aged gringo and I requested the big side, top tier. That would give me the best panoramic view of the stadium and the ability to take pictures and videos of La Doce. As it turns out I was right. Inaki and the Aussie said they watched the game side on, barely able to move or physically able to take their phones out of their pockets. Argentines also have the strongest bladders in the world and never go for a piss. Our host Nacho, took us to our entrance, via another last minute transaction on a street corner. We all had different seats which was fine with me. I’d rather sit by myself and make real Boca mates than experience this for the first time with a clueless gimp from Boston. While this was going on, Alvaro was helping a woman and her young son who had seemingly been scammed by another tour company, taking their money and then ghosting them, The young lad was in tears but Alvaro being the guy he is sorted them out with some tickets at the last minute. After he took care of them, he attempted to enter La Doce himself with his own membership card and was denied access because it was “too full”. For people reading this wondering the best way to do a trip like this I would highly recommend Homefans. Their 7 and 10 day tours can look expensive at first glance but they have individual one off matches too. I booked my hotel myself but I found their pricing for the games fair considering the transportation, the additional food and drinks, the knowledge and knowhow of the hosts. If your Spanish isn’t great and you have no experience of this region of the world, they are invaluable. The guarantees were a massive comfort to me. I‘ve pissed around in Europe touting tickets when I was younger. It’s a different game in South America.
There’s not much you can say about La Bombonera other than it feels magical. The sheer number of people packed in way above what you would assume was a safe capacity, the colors, the consistent beat of drums and swaying, bobbing of the crowd. The noise that suddenly out of nowhere rolls from an already amazing sound into a crescendo with literally everyone on their feet like an orchestra with perfect timing. There‘s an electricity in the air. Even cigarette smoke that took me back to the early nineties when I started going to games. There’s a feeling that everyone knows this is the greatest place on the planet to watch a game. There‘s a relaxed smile upon most faces. An understanding that even though it‘s important Boca win, really what matters is we are all here witnessing this cathedral.
The actual game was disappointing. This is not a particularly great Boca team and they never got going. Huracan’s Uruguayan striker Matias Coccaro scored the only goal of the game on 70 minutes and the hosts had no answer. I wasn’t too bothered to be honest, it would have been nice to see them score a goal and hear the noise of the crowd but just being there was enough.
After the game we met back at the minibus a few blocks away and most of us sat quietly taking in the amazing experience we had just had. Inaki, Alvaro and I headed to one of Buenos Aires‘ most famous pizza joints, Guerrin which just happened to be next to our hotel. I’d noticed it had long lines all day and night and it looked like a small takeout place from the outside. Turns out it’s massive with multiple rooms and lines for each room. The pizza is extremely cheesy which apparently originated from the Italians coming over back in the day and finding there was more cheese in Argentina than Italy so they smashed it on their pizzas and it’s stuck ever since. I’m not 100% sure if that’s true but I hope it is.
The next day was supposed to be a filler of time before flying home at 9pm but it actually turned out to be one of the best days. That sounds ridiculous to say now I’m writing it but speaks volumes for the trip as a whole. Alvaro took Inaki and I back to La Boca but this time to see all the famous brightly colored buildings and possible access to an empty La Bombonera.
La Boca is beautiful, if not a massive tourist trap. Tango dancers appear from restaurants and let you know it will cost you to take a picture of them. Souvenir shops and Maradona murals are everywhere. Leo Messi makes occasional appearances.
We made our way to La Bombonera and visited the museum and club shop while Alvaro tried to get access to the stands despite the official tour being closed.
We didn’t get official access but those of you that saw my blog from Austin will remember there’s always an open door somewhere. Always.
It feels a hell of a lot smaller when empty. You actually look around and wonder how on earth they get that many people in. There probably isn’t any rules.
Just enough time for some Argentine steak and Malbec down in the financial district of Puerto Madero, the perfect end to an incredible trip.
I will definitely be back. The sheer number of big clubs and electric stadiums is too deep to come close to experiencing in four days.
I spent quite a few weeks excited about Newells Old Boys before the plans changed so that is top of my list, even though its two or three hours from the capital. Union Santa Fe looks brilliant too.
Alvaro is from Cordoba, again hours from Buenos Aires but he’s on the board of a second division team named Instituto. When he first told me I assumed it was a small team but he showed me some videos during this trip and it’s looks absolutely bonkers and I’m waiting for a follow up invite to stay with him sometime.
Then there’s Montevideo, Uruguay, just two hours away from Buenos Aires by ferry. I could go on.
For now, hasta luego Argentina. You lived up to the dream.
By the way, I didn’t even get half way through that stack of bills.