The first part of my recollections seemed to be well received, and as promised here is part two. Instead of 10 tales we have 11, after all a football team has 11 players, and I just didn’t want to leave any of these games out, on occasion not so much the match, but more importantly the camaraderie, which is even more important.
6/ Velez Sarsfield v Club Nacional de Football (28th February 2008)-Copa Libertadores
As alluded to at the end of the first part of my Argentine tales, my great friend Andrew and I had been out in Tigre with our good friend, the great doctor and magician of boletos (tickets) at Racing, or indeed Huracan, Jorge as well as another friend Andrea. We had a rather splendid lunch on the banks of the Parana Delta, where the sumptuous fish was washed down with wine and we were all in fine spirits as we said our goodbyes. Andrew and I headed back into the city on the train, but somewhere along the line, the name of a station suggested to my wine-addled brain that we were nearer Liniers than the reality. However, with no other plan for the evening, and Velez playing Nacional in quite an early evening kick off, we jumped off, before realising we were many kilometres from the cancha. Undeterred, we whizzed around the General Paz ring round in a cab, arriving outside the Estadio Amalfitani almost right on kick off. We were dropped off at the away side of the stadium, and bought our tickets for the upper tier of the stand opposite the main one, a very unusual location for the away fans in my experience at Velez. I have been five times at Velez’s stadium, three times in the away end, but only this once in what is normally empty or home territory.
A good number of Bolso (Nacional fans) had either come across the River Plate, or they already lived in and around Buenos Aires, most likely a mixture of the two. The stadium was pretty full and the atmosphere was absolutely crackling. This occasion nicely dovetailed with my very first ever game in Uruguay five years earlier, at the home of football, when both sides served up a cracking 2-2 draw in El Centenario. This one also ended all square, with Velez perhaps feeling the most aggrieved at failing to pick up maximum points. They took the lead in the first half from a fine drive from outside the box, but in the early part of the second period, a slack back pass was pounced on by an alert Nacional forward, who rounded outrushing Velez keeper and he tucked the ball home from the tightest of angles. Needless to say the already raucous away support descended into bedlam.
The end of the game and getting out of the stadium was the most dangerous I have ever faced at a football game, indeed, anywhere. The Velez fans had rounded the corner from the home curva and had lined up a fine array of masonry to chuck in the direction of the Nacional fans heading down that stairs at the back of the terrace. People were running the gauntlet, essentially some just made a bolt for it, while others ran back to the terracing. Some people were unfortunately hit. Eventually staying low, crouched by the far off wall was the only safe way to avoid becoming a victim. At the exit, the few police that had been allocated to look after the visiting fans were having a right old giggle, much to our disgust.
A year prior to this occasion, Andrew must have been down in Buenos Aires from his Rio home as well, as together with certainly Juan Pablo, maybe Juan Manuel too, we were in the more traditional away end at Velez amongst no more than visiting 200 fans here for an historic moment in football when tiny little Rocha from the far eastern side of coastal Uruguay were debuting in the Copa Libertadores having sensationally won the Apertura across there. It was always going to be a David versus Goliath occasion and they barely threatened Velez going down 3-0, but the very fact they were there was the real romantic story and it was a privilege to have been at this game. Needless to say there was no unsavoury incidents upon its conclusion.
2/ Argentinos Juniors v River Plate (4th March 2007)
This was a repeat fixture, the only one worthy of inclusion here. (See part 1 for the other joust). There have been a few repeat games on my travels, but a second match up between these two clubs was another truly memorable occasion in La Paternal. This time Juan Pablo and I had tickets ahead of the game and seats together, so two years on from a sensational 3-3 draw, we took our seats in anticipation of another classic encounter. Argentinos were immediately on the front foot, and came close on a number of occasions. Of course, what happened next was a slick break by River, headed into the path of Marco Ruben who smashed the ball home to give Los Millionarios the lead against the run of play. It was however short lived as Argentinos’ enterprising play wasn’t to be denied, and following the picking of a River defenders pocket down near the corner flag, an inch perfect cross was met by a powerful and towering header by Carreras, 1-1. Buoyed by the equaliser Argentinos were relentless in their continued assault on the River goal, and they finished the half very strongly.
River couldn’t have been more ineffectual in the first half, so it was no surprise they’d had a tongue lashing at the interval, and they came out looking more likely to score. However, Argentinos had already sussed out that River were vulnerable down the wings and neat passing saw the ball threaded through to the winger who angled into the box and while his shot was parried by the keeper, it fell right into the path of the onrushing Gabriel Hauche at the edge of the box and his exquisite effort was struck into the far corner of the goal away from the diving goalkeeper, Argentinos deservedly led 2-1. River threw every at the hosts, they hit the bar and misfired an overhead kick for the equaliser, but they were missing the artistry of Marcello Sala.
As if the play hadn’t been relentless enough, we then had a power outage which put all the lights off around the cancha with the exception of the digital TV advertising hoardings around the pitch. There was undoubtedly growing concern that the game might not be able to continue, and with Argentinos leading 2-1 conspiracy theorists were writing all sorts, but after a period, lights, action, we were back. Throughout the darkness the fans of both teams kept up a tremendous rhythm, and once the hostilities recommenced, River continued to knock on the door, but as much as they huffed and puffed they couldn’t find the equaliser, and the full time whistle brought scenes of great joy amongst the home fans and the La Paternal barrio. This game might only have had half the goals of the first, but it was no less a classic match, and with a surprise home win added on for good value, it was a great night.
Four years later my growing throng of chums (both Juan’s, Mariano, Ema and Matias and I) were all headed back to a much quieter Diego Maradona Estadio for a third Argentinos home game, this time a Copa Libertadores occasion versus America from Mexico City. Los Bichos were bang on form again winning 3-1, but without the edge of the River fans and hardly a Mexican to be seen, this was a much more sedate, run of the mill occasion. I would see Argentinos win again in 2011 across the river in Montevideo at El Gran Parque Central, the home of Nacional. Argentinos will be keen to see me back, I seem to bring them luck!
3/ River Plate v San Lorenzo (24th February 2008)
A year later I was back again, and having done all the great stadiums of the city (except Rojo No Existe, obviously), one of the true greats of world football was missing from my CV, the Monumental. Here was the venue of the greatest day in Argentine football history when they finally won the World Cup for the first time in 1978, and as luck would have it, being amongst the away fans we were at the very end where Mario Kempes had struck to see the albiceleste over the line versus Dutch all those years ago.
My companion for this trek out to Nunes was Juan Pablo once more, who was getting used to an annual trek or two to the canchas when I was around (other trips to Maraderos and Platense haven’t made the cut here, but they were fabulous occasions too). We had shared a number of games in the preceding years and while we had taken in Boca v Sporting Cristal from the fanatical home end at La Bombonera a few years prior, I was already developing an “anti” big team attitude and so being at the Monumental amongst the away fans seemed more acceptable, not that San Lorenzo are a poorly supported side.
Another huge crowd was on hand for this “classico”, aided by the return of Ramon Dias to the benches of the Monumental as coach of the visitors, but the warmth of his reception was something to savour. It was also a poignant goodbye to D’Alessandro for the El Ciclon (San Lorenzo fans) as he waved his goodbyes on his way to new adventures elsewhere.
It was an amazing afternoon, taking in the sheer scale and history of this venue wasn’t easy, and the atmosphere was electric. River went in front, Falcao powerfully heading home a corner. Diego “Cholo” Simeone had moved to River from Racing ahead of moving to Europe, and like all of his teams, they are fit, well drilled and full of energy. San Lorenzo were rarely at the races in this encounter, and midway through the second half when Abelairas stroked home the second, the points were sealed and the carnival atmosphere in the rest of the stadium just went up a notch. The Almagro hinchas (fans) never stopped trying to lift the team, but before the final whistle a number had decided to duck out and avoid the crowds. It had been a comprehensive 2-0 defeat.
4/ Huracan v Chacarita Juniors (19th March 2010)
Ever since Laura and I had visited El Bolson in 2001 a soft spot had arisen for El Globo, or Huracan as they are known, courtesy of a chance encounter. In our first days in this wonderful Patagonian town we met an Irish accented Pablo, who had worked across in the Republic of Ireland pulling pints in a bar for quite some time in Cork. He had fallen out with his girl and here he was back in Argentina trying to mend his heart with a trip into the wilderness. We got chatting one night, and it transpired that his ex-partner was now working in an Edinburgh hotel. One thing led to another, and as the beer flowed, a decision was made that he would write a letter, which I would deliver. The cupid moment worked a treat, and before long, she flew out to Argentina, they got married and sadly, before I lost their trail (this was in the days before easy contact), they were living in or around Cordoba.
Pablo had given me his Huracan hat in El Bolson, a great privilege and it long sowed the seeds for my curiosity for his team. When I subsequently realised what an iconic stadium Parque Patricio is, my wish to see a game here grew and grew. Jorge, one of my great Racing chums, was probably not fully understanding this desire, and he got tickets for us all to see Huracan v Lanus in February 2008. It was the weekend I had just arrived and maybe he didn’t appreciate it was more the venue rather than the team I wanted to see, with this encounter rather oddly being played at Argentinos Juniors cancha in La Paternal (a 4th game here). For the record, Huracan won the game 1-0, it wasn’t a classic.
Two years on, Jorge had arranged tickets again through his medical contacts at Globo and Juan Manuel and I took our seats, our extremely concrete seats in the main stand of what can only be described as one of the most amazing football grounds in the world. Huracan fans treasure this stadium and rightly so. It should have a UNESCO world heritage badge attached. Please never let the money men or the beaks alter one little bit of this classic old school cancha, it’s a gem.
The game itself was never going to live up to the surroundings, Chacarita were rather poor, and while Globo weren’t great, they saw this one out 2-0 in a fractious, bit part game. The quality didn’t matter, the game was the sideshow, but if I ever get the chance to see a derby versus San Lorenzo or any of the big sides here, it would be another cherished memory.
5/ Lanus v Chivas Guadalajara (Copa Libertadores) (11th February 2009)
This was another of these healthy gang of chums occasions and when the opposition was from such distant places as Mexico the atmosphere was always going to be much more relaxed. Despite only seeing a few Mexican clubs (4) and never having been to Guadalajara, it is perhaps unusual to have seen both the “big” sides from this city. Atlas were the visitors at the Azteca back in 1996 versus Atlante, my first ever game outside Europe, and to this day my only ever Mexican game. This would be my first of two matches I enjoyed in Lanus, the other, as usual when I pitched up with the Racing gang two years later, we lost.
Amongst the throng of my Argentine friends present here in Lanus was Mariano, the lone Boca man in the gang. He was the boyfriend of my wonderful friend Malena, and as a trio we had enjoyed some fabulous days/nights in Buenos Aires and Montevideo. When they split up, it was very sad, as they were great together, but personally it was a joy that both of them stayed in touch, and on separate occasions have both visited Edinburgh and beyond in Scotland/UK. Indeed, while 10 Argentines have visited my team’s stadium in Inverness, Mariano is the only one to see them play, albeit in a friendly in Banff when we won 3-0 versus Highland League side Deveronvale. He was so delighted with “Jim’s Tour” of Scotland and England (the original inspiration to come to the UK was to see Monty Python regrouped which was an hilarious night). Upon my next trip to Argentina, he was so determined to say thank you, Juan Manuel and I were whisked up to Tigre to take a launch through the Delta to a private island of his friend’s family where we had a sensational afternoon including an asado. It was a moment in time that needed to be recollected here as it was hugely appreciated at the time, and still is. It adds fuel and credence to the wonderful open ways of Argentine people, and I have been blessed with getting to know so many amazing people down there.
The game itself was another routine Argentine win, Chivas offered little, but it was more the trip down to Lanus, the camaraderie and bringing many of my friends together from different backgrounds and ways of life that was special. Such occasions were becoming an annual gig, a good number of us had trekked to suburban Avellaneda a few season’s earlier to see Arsenal Sarandi beat Libertad from Paraguay, but unlike the Mexicans, Libertad had a healthy away support, as well as Argentinos v America as mentioned earlier.
6/ Boca Juniors v Racing Club (6th March 2010)
Originally the idea was to have two parts of five games, well that has spilled into an 11th as you can see. One or two of the games above weren’t the best games, they were more about the friends and the event, but this particular game wasn’t just a classic match, it became one of the nights of my life! It neatly takes us back to the beginning of these recollections when in 2000 I saw the reverse of this fixture as my first ever game in Argentina (see part 1).
Juan Pablo and I had been in the Bombonera previously, but this was so different, climbing and climbing the stairs to the top tier where the away fans were housed. Matias and Ema were with me, but sat amongst the home fans just to our left were Juan Pablo and Sofie, now his lovely wife, who were also watching this extraordinary encounter unfold.
I had just arrived in Argentina that morning, and while I am sure I tried to get a little snooze, the adrenalin is always pumping after a long flight. Somehow knowing it’s summer outside, and knowing I was going to one of the iconic stadiums (but the reality is that La Bombonera is an overrated creaky place) of the world to watch my team was all too much excitement. Expectations weren’t high, I had wracked up a number of winless matches watching Racing, and when Gaetan powerfully headed over our keeper and into the net after just 13 minutes that sinking feeling was creeping in. That said, and these days it is such a shame that away fans are banned in Argentina, as the Academia fans merely doubled down and sang even louder. In fact, Boca’s lead lasted just three minutes, as a free kick was swung in and a downward header in the six yard area landed at a Racing foot, and while he shot poorly, it hit the post right below where we were housed halfway to the sky, but Brian Lluy was on hand to bundle the ball over the line, bedlam in the away end.
It is funny how names, clubs, situations arise more than once in football, and having watched Gabrial Hauche score the winner for Los Bichos versus River a few years earlier (see recollection 2 here), you can imagine what I am about to write! A comedy standing on the ball by the Boca defender resulted in him losing his balance, leaving Huache with a clear shot on goal from the edge of the box, and he took his chance with aplomb. The carnage in the away that ensued was just incredible. It was the last minute of the first half, Racing were leading 2-1.
The second half is a blur of nervous excitement as well as wishing I could have smuggled a small camera up here as the sunset over the city was amazing. Boca tried but they couldn’t break the Racing resolve, and the final whistle brought unbridled joy, what a win! The Argentine authorities used to let the away fans leave first so they would be out of the vicinity sooner, thereby reducing any chance of trouble. However, the Boca fans, banging on the walls of the stairwell had left a charming calling card in the form of pools of urine ankle deep in places and running down the stairs as we walked, it was horrendous, but hey we were still laughing and happy.
Now I hadn’t foreseen the soaking in piss coming, but by sheer chance of going out to eat, I had a change of shoes and shirt left in the car. I was off to La Parolaccia in Puerto Madero to meet Laura (a time honoured first day venue to meet), and the clock wasn’t far off midnight as we sat down to eat. The excitement of what had gone before blew any thoughts of fatigue away, and seeing I was in fine form, Laura whisked us off to dance in Boedo after the meal. I think I finally collapsed into bed around 5am. The next day was a bit of a write off, but what a first day in Argentina, what a way to celebrate Racing’s great win, this truly was a day to remember.
While I enjoyed this famous win, and having also seen them win in El Centenario versus Nacional, one growing monkey was still on my back, I had only ever seen them win once at home all the way in 2003 in my second game in El Cilindro. Even a home game with Gimnasia Jujuy had come and gone without success, and indeed in 2011, the year after that giddy high at the Bombonera, Boca exacted revenge with a 1-0 win in Avellaneda with me in the cancha.
Fast forward to 2015, Ema and his brother Matias were with me as Racing, on the last night of Diego Milito playing, thrashed Guarani Asuncion 4-1. I would be lying if I said there wasn’t an emotional tear of joy at having lost the monkey 12 years on! I went over to Uruguay as I am always prone to doing in between and came back for a final night at the opera, Racing v Sporting Cristal two weeks later. A number of us met up in a bar near the Bago office on Avenida 9 Julio, (where three of my chums were working at the time) for a farewell cerveza. Jorge, Matias, Juan Manuel and I were all going to meet Ema down at the cancha, but at the last minute Mariano asked if there was a chance he could come along. Jorge the magician made calls and produced yet another rabbit from his hat, and on this occasion it resulted in Matias and I heading unexpectedly to the press area, where entry required Matias to remove his shirt briefly (the press can’t be that biased!). We ultimately sat behind the press area, where he could put his shirt back on, and what a fabulous view. Two weeks earlier, having got the monkey off my back, normal service was resumed for this one, as an already qualified Racing eased off and the Peruvians won 2-1. There is a key to this run, whenever Jorge and I are in the stadium on the same night, it goes south, Racing doesn’t win! It was my last game in South America.
Sadly the pandemic put a stop to a 2019 long overdue return, as well as testing this theory of a curse. There is a growing need to be with my Argentine chums, I hope it won’t be too much longer. Subsequent notoriety of my Chacarita selfie and my burgeoning Argentina camiseta collection has all helped keep the land high in my thoughts. I will be back, as soon as it’s safe to do so. All these recollections are for my Argentine friends, and judging by recent activity, that family of friends is set to grow. Going to San Martin to see Chacarita can’t be avoided, it was already on my list of ‘must do’s’ and who knows in a few years time I might have collected sufficient new memories for a part 3 to these recollections. Next up from South America though is a long overdue memoir of games from a country that I have been to even more games in, Uruguay.
Thanks for reading, I hope you have enjoyed these recollections.
Football Adventures with James Rendall 