Argentina: ¿Riot or Soccer Game?

“We live in a wonderful world that is full of beauty, charm and adventure. There is no end to the adventures we can have if only we seek them with our eyes open.” – Jawaharial Nehru

This whole saga began two years ago during my first trip to South America. Half-way through my time in Ecuador and after making new friends, I decided that I wanted to experience my first soccer game. Games that I saw on tv were full of life, passion and excitement and I wanted to be a part of that. 
However, there were no more home games while I was there. I was left watching the local pickup games near my hostel, which was still a fun atmosphere. I vowed that the next time I returned to South America, a soccer game was going to happen.

Fast forward to this summer, again in South America, and soccer still on top of my mind. Peru, Bolivia and Chile were no-gos. I was determined that I wasn’t leaving Argentina until I went to a game and there was only one home game scheduled in Mendoza. The local team, Godoy Cruz, plays in the premier Argentinian league, as there are a few minor league levels, too. A few days before the game, I started researching how to buy tickets, short of showing up at the stadium at game-time which wasn’t the option I preferred. With no luck on google, I turned to twitter and hit the jack-pot. The team had a twitter account giving vague info on where to purchase. I was pumped. I had figured it out. No prices were listed, but the price didn’t matter to me at this point. I was going.

Monday was game day and my chance to purchase our tickets. The sun was shining bright. I grabbed my bag, a bunch of cash and set out to find the ticket office. As I was nearing the area of where the tickets were supposed to be, my excitement grew. I turned the corner and there were a few guys hanging out near an old-gated area with a run-down building, but no ticket office. This was roughly where I was supposed to be but it didn’t feel right, so I kept going. A few blocks away there was an over-pass with tons of graffiti celebrating the team, so I thought I must be getting close. Something told me to cross the street where a few people were entering a building. I entered the same office and sure enough, there was the team’s logo, large and proud on the wall. People were queued up, as two office staff worked the line. I was really proud of myself for finding this tricky place. I had my credit card ready because I noticed they had the machine. I made my way to the front and politely asked for three tickets to tonight’s game. The lady shook her head and said that they didn’t sell tickets here; this was where members came to rectify their monthly accounts to attend games. She gave me directions (in very fast, Argentinian Spanish) and then called for the next person. I walked out of the office completely defeated and not knowing where I was supposed to go. Sulking a bit, I headed back in the direction I came from. I wasn’t giving up.

Turning the corner again, with my game-face on, I asked the guys that I had passed earlier, where I was supposed to buy tickets. With big smiles and eager to help, they pointed me to the run-down building that had a security guard sitting in front of it, so off I went, hesitantly. They were right. With three tickets in hand (ladies tickets were about half price), I was smiling ear to ear. The tickets were interesting in that there was no useful information on them; no game location, time, date...nothing. A little doubt crept in as to the validity of them, but we would find out soon enough.

Fast forward to 8pm and a walk through the large, relatively well-lit park that I would never have walked alone, anywhere in the world, we arrived to a tailgating area. Tons of locals were eating, drinking and having a blast. This is what it was about. This. We enjoyed a tasty choripan sandwich (grilled chorizo with chimichurri sauce) before heading into the stadium.

Entering the stadium was no easy feat as we had to pass through at least 6 security checkpoints, one of which was a straight-on groping. Police of every type were on the ready and in absolute abundance; on horse, in riot gear, with drug dogs, so much so, that having that many heightened my senses as to what I was getting myself into. We made our way to our seats and relief settled over me because everything worked out. Hakuna Matata. We were here. I was at a soccer game in South America.

The experience was everything I hoped for. The crowd was rowdy enough to be exciting, but not so much that fear took over. The member section was full of drums and flags and fans yelling and screaming. My section was apparently the upper class, “sophisticated” section because we were separated from the member section by barbed wire fences and dozens of police in riot gear. To be clear, the police surrounded us on our side of the fence. Whenever the refs made a bad call, which was apparently often, the crowd erupted into hissing and fowl language that would not be tolerated in the States, though it did make me laugh.

While at the game, a local offered me “mate,” (mah-tay) which is a hot tea prepared in a specialized container, using a delicate process. My friend Shayne explained how seriously Argentinians and Uruguayans took the ritual of drinking mate. I loved it, even more so I think that I got to try it while watching a soccer game with my friends. Everything was perfect at that moment.

Following the game however, things got a little tricky because we couldn’t figure out how to get home. Taxis weren’t present, neither was our bus. We started walking down another dark road, hoping that the bus was still running on the main road. We arrived where the bus stop was supposed to be, but nothing was there to indicate a roper stop. It was midnight now and we were on the side of a road. Luckily there were street lights, but my anxiety was increasing a bit. About 10 minutes passed and the bus finally came, we flagged it down and all was well again.

We made it home and I laid in bed reflecting on all of the emotions that flowed through me in the past 12 hours. It was all worth it.