What’s he talking about? This guy has gone mad! He’s overdosed on prime Argentine beef, yerba mate and dulce de leche. Surely he means Banfield 2 Argentinos Juniors 2?

Bizarrely, I find myself in Durban, South Africa, where I’m working on the big United Nations sponsored climate change conference. And it’s big, really big. The future of our planet depends to a large extent on what is, or is not agreed at this huge talking shop.

Politicians from more than 190 nations, pressure groups  — from those who believe veganism will save the world to those who believe our future rests on greater production of rattan furniture – a Hindu priest who spent twenty years living in a cave, more scientists than you could shake a test tube at and girl guides…yes, girl guides!…are in Durban to discuss our future. Then we await the arrival of certain notables like Leonardo di Caprio, Angelina Jolie, Richard Branson and Arnold Schwarzenegger. If they can’t sort out the many and complex issues that need resolving before the world can agree on and then implement binding solutions, then nobody can. Can I suggest that you start hoarding goodies in your underground bunker in Patagonia right now.

The Moses Mabhida Stadium

But that’s just the future of our planet. If you land in Durban and the Golden Arrows are playing the Orlando Pirates at the Moses Mabhida stadium in the semi finals of the cup, then that’s where you go. Obviously!

Never mind that you’ve just flown the nine hours from Buenos Aires to Johannesburg then on to Durban with a five hour time difference. You check into your hotel and then you pay your 50 rand for a seat in a fine stadium, used during the 2010 World Cup.

The football was great in patches with some lovely slick passing moves from both sides. At other times in was technically poor, with abstract passing and geometrically confused control. Former West Ham space filler, Benni McCarthy, now pulls an Orlando Pirates jersey tightly over a growing belly.

I thought I was sat in the away end, among the Pirates fans, until the Arrows scored in the first half and sporadically positioned locals leapt out of their seats. There was no attempt to segregate the fans, there was no need. There was no aggression or rancour. Segregation is perhaps a dirty concept in post apartheid South Africa. There were no fences and yet beer was being swilled in vast quantities from plastic cups as the fans sat in their seats in this architecturally divine stadium.

Passionate Pirates

I shouldn’t be surprised. But if you watch your football, as I do in Argentina, caged behind barbed wire topped fences, kept behind for half an hour after the game to allow the away fans home first to they don’t get torn limb from limb, then this is a surprise and a very pleasant one.

Many fans danced throughout the match. The Pirates fans sported workman’s hard hats, cut and carved to produce intricate pop-out designs on the front. One had a football boot moulded onto it.

Orlando Pirates were the better team and soon got the equalizer they deserved. They went two up in the second half and topped it off with a penalty. Despite being the away side, based in Johannesburg, their support is drawn predominantly from the Zulu community which occupies the east of South Africa.

Football is a game supported mostly by South Africa’s black population while rugby is a mostly white-supported game. But that wasn’t an issue here. It was simply fun. Fun football with relaxed fans mingling freely with one another, white, black, Indian, families, men and women.

C’mon Orlando Pirates. Up the Bucs!

With just five games to go and Boca Juniors running away with the Argentine championship,  there’s only really one story filling the sports pages. OK,  maybe two,  if you count the resurgence of River Plate bursting back to the top flight after suffering the first relegation in their history a few months ago.

No,  the really big story is the imminent clash between the former head of the Boca Juniors barra brava,  or hooligan element,  Rafa Di Zeo,  and the man who stood in for him while he was serving time in prison but now refuses to stand down,  Mauro Martin.

Di Zeo last week attended a Boca home game accompanied by hundreds of supporters and filled one end of the ground. Martin and his entourage filled the other end. Both made threatening gestures to one another,  all captured by the media.

Both men were banned from the Boca game this weekend away to Velez Sarsfield but most believe that this has merely delayed the inevitable clash for control of the Boca barra brava, La Doce.

Martin and Di Zeo - Not Friends.

With elections for club president due at the beginning of December,  the authorities are tip-toeing around the issue like it’s a dispute over which kind of cup cakes to serve at the village fete.

The newspapers openly discuss the links the two thugs have with the candidates in the same way they reported on the national elections last month. And in some cases they’re talking about the same people. The former president of Boca Juniors and current mayor ofBuenos Aires,  Mauricio Macri,  is a possible runner in the next national elections in 2015.

His links with Di Zeo while he presided over a very successful stint running the club are well documented. Di Zeo has just emerged from a long stretch in prison for violent behaviour. The Boca authorities welcomed him with open arms. The politicians are scared and when politicians are scared of criminals like Di Zeo and Martin it ends in the kind of tragedy being lived every day of her life by people like Liliana Suarez de Garcia.

Her son Daniel was killed by barra brava at a game between Argentina and Uruguay in the Americas Cup back in 1995. I met her at the office of a pressure group called Salvemos al Futbol – Let’s Save Football which campaigns against football violence and is made up largely by families of the victims.

She knows the names of her son’s killers. She knows where they live and where they work. But although sixteen years have passed since Daniel was stabbed to death outside the ground,  the killers continue to move around freely,  any possible legal proceedings bogged down in bureaucracy,  ineptitude and a lack of political will.

Daniel Garcia was a Boca fan who traveled toUruguayfor the international game. He was traveling with Platense supporters,  a Buenos Aires club now languishing in the third division. They’d been involved in some spat with followers of Tigre and Moron– a petty,  convoluted dispute about perceived rivalries and insults that reminded me of something being garbled by Matt Lucas’s Little Britain character,  Vicky Pollard.  That team called me a slag but I’m friends with a different team which used to be friends with my best mate’s team, at least he was my best mate until I caught him snogging behind the bikeshed with Tracy. These are grown men, don’t forget.

Those battling for control of the Boca barra brava treat their conflict like a game. Similar disputes are being played out at clubs all overArgentina. The end result is often  innocent fans like Daniel Garcia bleeding to death outside the ground.

Liliana heard about her son’s murder on the radio. She and her husband drove to Uruguayand arrived in time to see a botched investigation which was followed by prevarication and indifference from both the Uruguayan and the Argentine authorities.

“Our fight will continue because all we’ve got left is his memory and the wish for justice,”  she said. “The fight is not easy because it’s very uneven. We’re alone. We can’t count on the support of the state. They’ve got their interests…I shall not rest a minute of my life until those responsible,  whose names I know,  are exposed,  are repudiated by society. That’s what I’m going to do…make sure that everyone knows who they are and what they did.”

Homage to Daniel Garcia

Liliana was dignified and determined. She’s just one of many fighting to change a system that rarely brings those responsible for the violence in Argentine football to justice. Because there’s too much money and too many vested interests entwined in the game for anyone to act.

Graciela Muniz,  who works with Liliana,  said:  “What we’re seeing now is general violence supported by the sporting authorities and the politicians in which the judges are looking the other way. And we say to the authorities,  to the government,  please take the necessary measures to prevent this happening. That they send a message condemning violence in football.”

I wish them luck but I don’t hold out much hope that we’re going to see any radical changes any time soon.

Meanwhile, back on the field,  Atletico Rafaela lost another chance to chase Boca with a 0-0 draw at home to Belgrano. Tigre beat Colon 2-1 and Godoy Cruz thumped bottom club Estudiantes 3-1. All Boys and Independiente drew 2-2 and Olimpo and San Lorenzo 1-1.

My boys,  Argentinos Juniors,  after that rare victory last week,  went down 1-0 at Racing who came off the back of five consecutive draws and claimed second spot. Lanus beat Banfield 2-1 inthe derby of the south of Buenos Aires hinterland while Boca and Velez only managed a disappointing 0-0.

River Plate went back on top of the B division with a 4-1 win in the far north-west of Argentina at Gimnasia de Jujuy…all four goals coming from Fernando Cavenaghi.

The front page headline read:  ‘A Machine That Can’t Stop Winning.’ It was referring to Boca Juniors after a 2-0 win at Colon that leaves them six points clear at the top of the table and unbeaten this season.

But it could just have easily have applied to the president,  Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner,  who on Sunday romped to an overwhelming victory in elections to secure a second four year term in office.

Now,  if you’re standing up while reading this I suggest you take a seat. Since I’m going to attempt a delicate feat and compare events in Argentine football with what’s happening in its politics. It’ll be like one of those tricks where I juggle four eggs while removing all my clothing and re-dressing in my wife’s undergarments without dropping a single item. Or maybe not!

The Bombonera -- needs a lick of paint.

President Kirchner took over from her husband,  Nestor,  in 2007. He was supposed to resume the reins in these elections but rather inconsiderately died of a heart attack a year ago. I’m sure there’s something in the Argentine constitution about the deceased not being able to stand for elected office although,  even in his current state,  he’d have stood a good chance since the opposition was so abysmally poor.

The economy is doing OK on the back of shiploads of soya sold to China to fatten their livestock which in turn is feeding an ever more affluent and meat-hungry population.

Boca Juniors is also doing OK after a few lean seasons when they probably weren’t eating enough soya. They also face weak opposition. Their old rivals,  River Plate,  are battling to climb out of the second division after relegation last season for the first time in their history. One fan put it to me that they went down on purpose since the second division championship was the only silverware they’d not won and there was a space in their trophy cabinet.

There’s an even bigger space in the first division where the superclasico,  the twice yearly clash between Boca and River,  used to take place. Meanwhile,  few of the other big clubs have taken advantage of River’s absence,  most of them languishing in the lower half of the table. San Lorenzo,  Independiente and Estudiantes — where are you? Languishing in the lower half of the table,  like I just said.

With 54percent of the vote,  President Kirchner’s win was outstanding. However,  the 46percent of the electorate who don’t much like her split their vote between a sickly-looking socialist,  the grinning idiot son of a former president,  a reptilian former president and a former beauty queen with a decidedly dusty tiara,  among others.

President Cristina -- four more years.

Both winning parties are much softer and gooier on the inside than they appear on the outside. Boca’s iconic Bombonera stadium could do with a lick or two of blue and gold paint,  as could its squad. They can’t keep relying on the fading genius of the most miserable man in football,  Juan Roman Riquelme. The scorer of their two goals against Colon was Nico Blandi,  who last year turned out on loan at Argentinos Juniors and was universally disliked and disparaged.

The club authorities have done nothing to deal with the gangrenous wound that is gnawing at its innards – the barra brava or hard core fans. One former hooligan leader,   Rafa Di Zeo,  was handed his membership card back just days after emerging from prison where he’d served time for violent behaviour on the terraces.

The new government must tackle rampant inflation,  massive capital flight and the fact that its national side, with Messi,  Higuain and Di Maria in its ranks,  lost to Venezuela for the first time ever in a World Cup qualifier. National crises don’t come much bigger.

With Brazil on the up and up,  Argentina doesn’t have the regional clout it once did. It was front page news when it was announced that the president will be granted some brief face time with Barack Obama when their paths cross in Cannes next week. Possibly outside the cloakroom while he’s on his way to take a leak after a long session with President Medvedev and before a serious head to head with Mrs Merkel.

But both the government and Boca Juniors are euphoric for now and who are we to deny them the delight of those champagne bubbles tickling the underside of their noses?

That 3-1 defeat at second-placed Atletico de Rafaela and Banfield’s 3-0 win over Independiente means that Argentinos Juniors are now rooted firmly to the bottom of the table. That’s 20^th out of twenty. Our own champagne tickling time as champions less than a year and a half ago is but a distant memory.

Velez beat Estudiantes 1-0 while Arsenal won with the same score at home to San Lorenzo.  Union clinched their own 1-0 victory,  away at Olimpo while All Boys and Newell’s Old Boys drew 1-1. They would share the spoils,  wouldn’t they? The Old Boys network and all that. Or is it the All Boys network?

Belgrano beat Tigre at their place while Godoy Cruz and San Martin shared the spoils 2-2. Racing and Lanus also drew,  one apiece.

 See! I didn’t drop a single egg. And I rather like the silky feel of these stockings. Hey! Whad’ya think you’re looking at?

They took their time but finally – a victory for Argentinos Juniors. It was the tenth game of the season which is more than half way through a very short,  nineteen game campaign.

As well as being a thoroughly well-deserved win that lifts the team just a tad clearer of the foul-smelling,  fetid bottom of the league,  it also puts a stop to my whingeing and moaning. This was a team performance built on the back of a fine game played last week against Boca Juniors.

The Bichos started well with a headed goal after four minutes from an attacker I’ve been very critical of,  JJ Morales. In the second half the visitors doubled the score with a sublime chip over the advancing goalkeeper’s head by the stocky Uruguayan,  Roberto Brum.

Belgrano,  urged on by a 40,000-strong home crowd,  pulled one back which added to a tense and gripping final twenty minutes or so.

We’ve got a week-long break as the 2014 World Cup qualifying campaign gets underway  – Argentina kicking off against Chile. No Brazil to contend with since they qualify automatically as hosts.

That’s it! With nothing to complain about, I’ve got nothing left to say. I’m done. Life is sweet.

Oh no it’s not! There’s always plenty I’m not happy about and I find my complaints are usually better focussed when mixing with the large and eclectic foreign community that lives in Buenos Aires.

For our experience as foreigners living in a foreign land is a shared experience that binds us. Much of our complaining is done at 11 on a weekday morning while sipping coffee at a pavement cafe in the sunshine while some of the world’s most beautiful people saunter past. Then we’ll realise that we really have no right to complain before launching headlong into another anti-Argie diatribe.

The locals have grown up with the things us foreigners whinge about — the dog shit on the streets,  heavy bureaucracy,  bad driving,  unreliable policemen and no Marmite. They know no better.

When my American friend,  Charles,  mentioned the poor selection of breakfast cereals on display in Argentine supermarkets I immediately sympathised with his plight.

“If we see Honey Grahams,” he said. “We buy eight boxes.” So now I know where they’ve all gone. The locals start the day with,  to my mind,  inadequate milky coffee and a sticky croissant or media luna.

Another way us gringos,  the men anyway,  cope with distance from our homelands is by obsessing about our sports teams. Americans meeting in a Buenos Aires coffee bar will jump on the subject of baseball like two hungry dogs on a bone.

Who do you support?

I’ve got one English West Ham supporting friend in Buenos Aires who has just returned from London. I’m going to see him tomorrow and the first thing I’ll ask is whether he breathed in the air around Upton Park and what it was like.

I noticed the other day that I wear a West Ham t-shirt,  have West Ham slippers,  beer mat,  baseball cap,  towel,  tankard,  alarm clock,  two mugs and a sweat shirt.

I’m like a sad,  balding forty-nine year old teenager. I wasn’t that obsessed when I was a teenager.

What being part of an ex-pat community brings home is how alike we are. In the United States I’m a visitor talking with a cute accent while in Britain Americans are tourists wearing shorts at inappropriate times of the year while we guffaw at their pronunciation of our place names.

But on neutral ground the only difference is in accent and the spelling of a few words. Which raises the question: how did that come about?

Did those early Americans get so upset when the Brits killed Mel Gibson’s son that they called a meeting to discuss how to retaliate.

“I know how we gonna teach those darned Limeys a lesson.”

Mel Gibson - True patriot.

“How’s that Hank?”

“We’re gonna take the ‘u’ outta colour.”

“You sure Hank? Aint that just a step too far. Them Limeys gonna be real pissed.”

“I don’t care no more. You know what else we gonna do? We gonna misspell grey and instead of calling a spanner a spanner, we gonna call it a wrench.”

“Now hold on Hank. A revolution is one thing but all they done is tax our tea and I ain’t even sure Mel Gibson is a real American.”

I can forgive them the theft of Stan Laurel,  Charlie Chaplin and Hugh Laurie but why oh why did they replace the ‘y’ in tyre. I just don’t get that.

Contrary to popular belief in the UK, many Americans have embraced football, proper football with a round ball, with a passion….especially those living in football-mad places like Argentina. They can kick the ball in a straight line and follow the local league as avidly as the locals. I mean, how could you not?

Talking of the local league….Is it all done and dusted with nine games still to play? Boca are five points clear at the top after a 1-0 win over Tigre. Atletico de Rafaela are still behind them after a 2-1 victory over Lanus. Racing slipped back with a 1-1 draw at home to local rivals Independiente in the only real derby left in the top division.

Velez beat San Martin 1-0,  Olimpo won 2-1 at All Boys while Colon and Estudiantes drew 1-1. Banfield lifted themselves off the bottom for the first time this season with a 2-0 win over Newell’s, Arsenal beat Union de Santa Fe 2-1 and San Lorenzo’s problems continue after they were beaten 2-0 at Godoy Cruz.

I did say last week that well into the twenty-first century no-one in the public eye should be allowed to sport a haircut like that displayed by the Argentinos Juniors manager,  Pedro Troglio. And so it has come to pass.

I guess poor results didn’t help either. This was the third game in a row in which the Bichos shipped four goals. So in a very dignified manner,  shortly after this defeat to bottom club Estudiantes in La Plata,  he closed his eyes,  held his nose between his forefinger and thumb and jumped off the plank.

I was not sorry to see him go since he’s not been able to mould a half-decent squad of players into a team. He seemed to find ways of suppressing their talent.

What does concern me is that the manager before last,  the man who took them to last place in the table in the 2009 Clausura season before going on to abject disaster at River Plate,  a man with an even worse unreformed nineteen-seventies mullet hairdo than Troglio – could it be they frequent the same barber? — is being talked about as the possible replacement.

Gorosito. Get yer haircut!

Please,  stay where you are,  Nestor Gorosito. Far more to my liking is the possibility that geriatric goalscorer,  Jose Luis Calderon,  who was wrenched from his rocking chair to lead the Bichos to Apertura 2010 championship glory,  will nibble at the insect being dangled before him.

I got to three stadiums this weekend but none of them were hosting the less than silky skills of Argentinos Juniors.

On Friday at the decidedly un-football friendly hour of five pm,  I hopped on a train to Retiro,  then ran the length of the Linea C underground line to Constitucion,  then took another train to Avellaneda to see Independiente host Colon.

This was the first game for the new Red Devil’s manager,  Ramón Díaz,  and it soon became apparent that he’s got a lot of work to do. Independiente were woeful and probably lucky to escape with a 1-0 defeat.

Their players showed occasional hints of talent but didn’t seem to connect to one another,  almost as though some were playing football while others were thinking basketball and volleyball.

A shame really because this is a club with a fine history and a pleasant ground which will be even better when it’s finished. I said that last time I visited nearly two years ago and it’s still not complete. Or are cement mixers and half-installed seats part of the design?

Independiente - be nice when it's finished.

The 5pm kickoff meant that supporters rushed to the ground straight from work – men in suits,  telephone engineers and cable TV installers with small boxes,  nurses with stethoscopes around their necks,  airline pilots with headphones on,  prison guards jangling keys. I’m getting carried away here but you get the picture.

Avellaneda is a whole different experience. I’d earlier been dining in Palermo Hollywood,  so-named for its preponderance of film studios. Palermo Hollywood is arty,  international and possibly even a little twee. Avellaneda is tenser,  dirtier and industrial. Some might just call it poorer.

A heavy cloud of marijuana hung in the air and many of those walking to the ground were gulping frothy liquids from plastic Coke bottles which didn’t look to me like it was anything you’d want your children to be drinking at their birthday party.

Argentinos Juniors’ arch rivals,  Platense, are currently lurking in the regional third division. My sons were playing handball there – an interesting game which seems to combine football and basketball. A-ha! Maybe that’s what Independiente were playing!

The odd thing about Platense is that they play in brown. It’s the team my wife’s family grew up with and in a none-too subtle attempt to endear myself to them,  I once took my kids there to see a game. “Shirts are like shit – they play like shit,” said my eldest son,  then a precocious but astute ten-year-old.

Flea on bass guitar...

We adopted Argentinos Juniors instead and now test our food before eating when we visit the in-laws. I’ve not spoken to the brother-in-law since.

And then to probably the best second division ground in the world – River Plate’s Monumental stadium. Again a strong strain of marijuana in the air but not a football in sight. River Plate were playing away,  struggling to a 0-0 draw against humble Deportivo Merlo.

The visitors were the Red Hot Chili Peppers,  completely dominating the goal furthest from us with a spectacular light show and Flea sublime on bass guitar.

The great thing about the Chili Peppers is that they’re my age yet they’re still hip and trendy among the youth of Buenos Aires. So I could take my boys,  aged 14 and 11,  without them living in fear of a class mate seeing them with me,  as long as I promised to subdue my shadow guitar playing and didn’t wear a leather waistcoat.

* Boca Juniors seem to have found their stride,  beating rivals Lanus 2-1 away to clinch the top spot. Atletico de Rafaela are breathing down their necks after an impressive 3-1 win at San Lorenzo. Belgrano beat fellow newcomers San Martin 1-0 at their place while Olimpo and Godoy Cruz and Tigre and Arsenal all drew 2-2.

Newell’s and Velez and Union and Racing all drew 1-1 but a special mention must go to Banfield who scored their first and only goal of the season to record their opening win – a 1-0 at All Boys. They’re still bottom of the pile but Argentinos Juniors are just a place above them,  now the only team in the division without a win after seven games.

A couple of weeks ago I donned crampons and harnessed the huskies for a trek into unchartered but still familiar first division territory. This weekend I pulled on a wet suit and filled the oxygen tanks for a spot of diving, down into the second division – ‘La B.’

I went in search of goals and a bit of excitement but emerged with not much of either. The justification for my search was confirmed by yet another Argentinos Juniors 0-0, this one away to San Martin in the distant San Juan province. That’s three in a row if you count the dire scoreless draw against Velez Sarsfield last Thursday in the first leg of their South American Cup tie.

Tickets please!

Football without goals is like beer without alcohol or coffee without caffeine. Most of the ingredients are there but you end up asking yourself: “What’s the point?”

Caballito is a densely populated, fairly affluent neighbourhood smack bang in the centre of Buenos Aires. That being said, it was surprisingly difficult for me to get to, taking the Linea B underground to connect with the new Linea H which got me on to the ancient but charming Linea A which landed me about ten minutes walk from the home of Club Ferro Carril Oeste.

For the less Spanish-speakingly inclined readers that translates as the Western Railway Club – a once half decent first division side which won the championship in 1982 and 1984. Their Ricardo Etcheverry stadium looks alright from a distance. But close up it’s a wreck.

Their green and white clad fans were noisy and enthusiastic. But not for long did that hide the rickety nature of the wooden stands, the wood warped and the green and white paint but a faint, flaking memory. There’s a large, curved concrete roof over the stand which to my slightly blurry eyes looked like it had chunks missing.

Proud to be Green.

Much of the ground was empty, partly because travelling fans are banned in the second division but also, I suspect, because it’s simply unsafe for human habitation. Just as well I brought the oxygen tanks.

A friend of mine, who knows about this kind of thing, told me that Ferro is the victim of poor administration, owners that pocketed the cash and put nothing back into the club. Ferro, he told me, should be like Velez, challenging for honours and entertaining exotic visitors from across South America. Instead, it made the games I used to watch as a teenager at Aldershot’s Recreation Ground against the likes of Rochdale and Darlington look distinctly glamorous.

A goal was scored by the home side midway through the second half to give them a 1-0 victory over Almirante Brown, the yellow and black clad visitors. But by that time I didn’t care. This, remarkably, lifted them to second place in the table behind River Plate, who dropped their first points of the season in a 1-1 draw against Quilmes.

Remarkable because the football was dire. Not once did I see three passes strung together. The crowd cheered clunking defensive tackles or balls hoofed up to the safety of the heavens. It might have been an illusion but the defenders to me looked larger and more menacing and the attackers wispier and somehow less relevant than those in the first division. I was often more intrigued by the game being played in the empty space below me by a gang of kids in green and white who had long lost interest in the match.

Needs more than a paint job.

There must come a time when a fan’s love for the club, the sense of belonging, the fading reminiscences of a once fairly alright past cloud the quality of the football. The barra brava, while cajoling the fans to sing louder, had their backs to this game, huddles of women chatted amongst themselves and plenty seemed to arrive late and leave early as if they were just popping in.

This was not my first visit to the ground. I came in 2007 to cover a rally by the Venezuelan president, Hugo Chavez. The then US president, George Bush, was on a half-hearted tour of Latin America which included neighbouring Uruguay but not Argentina.

Bush and the previous Argentine president, Nestor Kirchner, had never gotten on, Kirchner forming part of that uppity gang of Latin American leaders, led by Fidel Castro but also including Chavez, the Bolivian leader, Evo Morales and the president of Ecuador, Rafael Correa, that refused to do anything that Washington told it to do.

So while Bush was in Uruguay, President Chavez was in the Ferro stadium haranguing him across the Rio de la Plata about the evils of US imperialism. The crowd, representing the whole spectrum of the Argentine left, was loud, possibly louder and more numerous than the ground has seen since.

Chavez was a good deal more entertaining and his attacks more incisive than anything either Ferro or Almirante Brown could produce.

Returning to the surface, new boys Rafaela keep their top spot with a 1-0 win at fellow promoted side, Union. Boca tail them, also clocking a 1-0 away win, this one at Independiente. That defeat for the reds led to the departure of their manager, Antonio Mohamed. Lanus are equal second with Boca after their 2-1 victory over Estudiantes.

Champions Velez lost 2-1 down south at Olimpo, Godoy Cruz won 2-1 at Arsenal and Belgrano clinched a 1-0 win at fast-sliding San Lorenzo. All Boys against Racing and Newell’s against Colon were both goalless. And Tigre beat the bottom club Banfield 1-0. Banfield have lost all five games they’ve played this season and not scored a single goal. Now that is a team with cause for concern.

In a bid to rekindle my waning enthusiasm for Argentine football, I decided to explore unchartered territory, to venture into the unknown underbelly of this ludicrously large city and visit a ground, a neighbourhood I’d not been to before.

I pored over my street map and bus routes, packed extra clothes, gum, search light and flares. I  contemplated spreading a trail of breadcrumbs out the bus window so that I could find my way home and wrote notes for my children should I not emerge from the heart of darkness.

Floresta, at least the bit I walked through, turned out to be a surprisingly peaceful neighbourhood, very residential and apparently affluent. The kickoff was at 2pm on a Sunday afternoon – exactly when football should be played. And this being El Dia del Nino, or Children’s Day, mums and dads and kids on bikes were out enjoying the crisp, cold winter sun.

All Boys against newly-promoted Atletico de Rafaela from the north-eastern province of Santa Fe is a First Division fixture about as glitzy and glamorous as a one-legged harmonica player in a talent contest at the local community centre.

Islas Malvinas Stadium

All Boys’ 19,500 capacity Islas Malvinas ground is compact and functional. The home fans, in black and white, were out in numbers while the visitors, in sky blue and white, filled the terrace behind one of the goals.

I hadn’t even properly settled into my spot, taken a glance at the loudmouth know-it-all standing behind me – there’s always a loudmouth know-it-all standing behind me – when All Boys’ striker, Mauro Matos, popped the ball in the net. 1-0 up in the first minute! It was going to be rout. But it so very rarely is.

The great thing about being a neutral fan is that you can appreciate the football being played by both sides without being tainted by emotion…by your blind allegiance to your team. Myself and the referee could plainly see when home players blatantly dived in the penalty area. But those around me clearly could not, almost in unison making crude and disparaging remarks about the private parts of the referee’s grandmother.

I was tempted to remonstrate with these less than objective fans but thought it better to keep my mouth shut after a rendition of that popular Argentine terrace song ‘Jump if you’re not an Englishman,’ followed by a tune with similarly aggressive overtures towards fans of Argentinos Juniors. And this, don’t forget, was in the Islas Malvinas stadium.

Down among the debris...

Argentinos Juniors, in case you were wondering, lost 3-1 away to San Lorenzo on Saturday in another display hindered by lack of ambition in front of goal and an absence of cohesion throughout the team. The clear difference between the teams was the former Argentinos Juniors number 5, Nestor Ortigoza, who was as crucial in midfield for his new team as he used to be for his old. I miss him dearly. I watched that one on the tele.

This game I attended in person wasn’t much better, marked by stray passes, a lot of huffing and puffing in midfield, and very little goalmouth action, at either end. Just when I thought it couldn’t get much worse, the half-time entertainment arrived.

Most clubs have dispensed with halftime entertainment which is generally a good thing. I only noticed this one when it was pointed out by the tannoy announcer, on a tannoy that actually worked, that clowns were on the pitch. And there they were – two grown men in baggy trousers hitting one another with balloons. Then, maybe because it was a special day for the kiddies, a Spiderman in a ripped costume climbed on one of the goal frames and got tangled up in the netting. I’m not sure whether or not that was deliberate.

Gloom over Floresta.

The restart of the football was a welcome relief. About fifteen minutes from the end, the visitors surprised everyone, even themselves, by playing a decent move down the right, tidied up neatly by Julian Fernandez who chipped the ball over the goalkeeper.

Rafaela had come alive. A few minutes later, Walter Gaitan wrapped up a useful away win from a free kick which everyone in the ground could see was floating into the top, right-hand corner. Everyone, that is, except the All Boys goalkeeper, Nico Cambiasso, who, confused by a deflection off the wall, remained rooted to the spot.

Losing a game in which you’d led from the start, to two goals in the closing minutes, is one of the hardest blows that a home fan has to deal with. Most here sighed a hundred different kinds of sigh as they shook their heads or contemplated the debris at their feet. The terrace philosophers spouted and splurged their own verbal debris before trailing out into the street.

I could sympathise with their pain but was grateful that I didn’t have to share it. A banner displayed on the terrace opposite read: “It’s Not 90 Minutes – It’s a Lifetime.”  I like that. The same could have been said of my wait for the 47 bus home.

Another banner, displayed by the away fans, said: “My problem with death is that I won’t see you again.” I’m not sure if it referred to a loved one or to Atletico de Rafaela – or maybe both. An apt, and only slightly exaggerated, expression of their depth of feeling.

Elsewhere, it seems that nearly everyone is a winner. Five teams share the top spot with seven points. Velez kept up their quest to retain their title with a 1-0 win at Arsenal. Challengers Lanus could only manage a goalless draw at San Martin while Colon beat Olimpo 1-0 at their place. Boca won by the same score at Newell’s and go to the very top on goal difference with Racing making up the quintet, also winning 1-0 away, at Banfield.  Independiente beat Estudiantes 1-0.  Tigre, one of the favourites for the drop, defied their critics by beating Godoy Cruz 2-1 and two of the newly promoted teams, Union and Belgrano, won no new friends among the neutrals by bashing out a 0-0 draw.

We go through the motions, don’t we? It’s the start of the new football season – the 2011 Apertura, the Islas Malvinas Nestor Kirchner Julio Grondona Carlos Gardel Diego Maradona championship and we’re excited, aren’t we?

I mean, we’ve been deprived of our regular diet of thrills and skills, action and excitement, glamour and controversy during the close season and now it’s back. Only the first weekend of the new season was flat, uninteresting, lacking in colour and the Monday after the weekend before, horribly uninspiring. This is due to a number of reasons.

Firstly, River Plate are not there. We know that they deserve to be in the second tier because they simply lost too many games. But there’s no Boca Juniors v River Plate superclasico to look forward to. There’s none of that hope and expectation that the arrogant big city boys will fall to some hard-working but glamorous-less side from the provinces. The absence of the gallinas brings home the fact that however useless River may have been, they were glamour and history and football needs glamour and history.

I revelled as much as anyone in their demise but it is nonetheless sad – a little like seeing the Queen sitting on a park bench eating cold pasta out of a plastic container.

Then there was the bursting of the Copa America bubble. Argentina as hosts and with Leo Messi et al among their ranks were expected to do a little better than fall to tiny Uruguay on penalties in the first knock-out game. Uruguay were worthy winners and Argentina deserved no more than what they got but it’s left the world of Argentine football looking and feeling like a sink of unwashed dishes the morning after a not very good party.

Even without all that, Argentine football is and has been for some years in crisis. I’ve said it before but it needs to be said again and again.

The close season saw the usual exodus of promising young Argentine players abroad. Argentinos Juniors’ own favourites, the folically-challenged Juan Mercier went to Saudi Arabia while the miniature Franco Neill went to Queretero in Mexico. Every top club lost players – to France, Ecuador, Italy, Spain and Greece and the transfer window hasn’t closed yet.

It wasn’t all one-way traffic. Some Argentines came back and a few foreigners signed for Argentine clubs, most notably the Ecuadoran Jefferson Hurtado for Argentinos Juniors.

Mercier - following the money.

So every team is pretty much a new team. Most are fielding fresh players while many favourites have gone and the fans yet again are spending hours on websites acquainting themselves with unfamiliar team line-ups.

But all this activity again raises the question: where does all the money go? Some goes back into the Argentine game but not enough. Too much is simply unaccounted for.

And a huge chunk of the blame for that state of affairs lies at the sweaty feet of the repugnant, reptilian Godfather of Argentine football, Don Julio Grondona, the head of the Argentine Football Association for the past thirty-two years.

There are rumours that he’s losing his grip. But like with any dictator, it’s always dangerous to underestimate the power and influence of a man who has been cunning and clever enough to ensure that people who count are where they are thanks to him.

Of the nine games played over the weekend, six ended in draws. Argentinos Juniors continued where they left off last season by holding the ball impressively for large parts of the match only to do very little with it when they got within range of the goal.

Santiago Salcedo scored the opener just after half-time then went off injured while Union, back in the top flight after eight years, responded almost immediately.

Boca Juniors played out a painfully dull 0-0 down south at Olimpo. Football’s most miserable player, Juan Roman Riquelme, set the tone by complaining about the pitch and the fans. “It’s logical,” he said, “that on this pitch you play badly.”

Another of the newcomers, Atletico de Rafaela, beat Banfield 2-0, Lanus got off to a flying start by winning 1-0 at San Lorenzo and the only other decisive score came at Arsenal where Colon won 2-1. Reigning champions, Velez, took a point at Godoy Cruz, All Boys held another of the newly-promoted teams, Belgrano, 1-1 and Newell’s and Estudiantes ground out an excrutiating 0-0.

Five players were sent off, including Emilio Hernandez from Argentinos Juniors. There’s still eighteen more games to go. Things must get better. Please tell me they must get better! Please!

With this victory Argentinos Juniors become king makers and party-poopers at the same time.

Lanus had launched a late challenge to Velez Sarsfield who had looked like the only title contenders for some time. If Lanus had won this one, they’d have been just a point behind Velez with a game to play.

But true to form, the Bichos played much better away from home to win this game with a Nico Blandi goal in the second half that leaves Velez, who’d beaten Huracan 2-0 earlier in the day, four points clear at the top of the table and uncatchable.

The hero of the afternoon was our goalkeeper, the young Luis Ojeda who was outstanding.

One to watch -- Luis Ojeda

So now that the title has been settled, we’ve still got the Copa America to look forward to, beginning in Argentina on July 1^st. And then the presidential elections in October.

That looks like being duller than this football season that’s drawing to a lacklustre close. There really is only one contender for this one, and she’s not sure she wants to play. The opinion polls all put President Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner out in front.

But she’s rumoured to be: a) still mourning the death last October of her husband, the former president, Nestor Kirchner. b) None too fit herself with regular bouts of illness that have forced her to cancel important trips and meetings. c) Perturbed by scandals lurking in the political backwoods that threaten to sneak up and bite her ankles.

But if not her, then who? Her own governing Peronist party is peopled by thugs, nerds and light-weights. Some boast just one of these less than savoury characteristics, others all three. But what none of them seem to have is vision or charisma.

And the opposition is a confusing mish-mash of bickering individuals. If any of them did, by some quirk, find themselves with the presidential sash draped over their shoulder then the first thing I imagine they’d do would be to run from the presidential palace into the street screaming: “What do I do now?!”

The newspapers are filled daily with page after page about who has met who and who might form alliances and who might not. Ricardo Alfonsin, the son of the former president, Raul, probably tops the pile of ‘the rest.’ There’s Francisco de Narvaez, interesting for the tattoo on his neck, and …..  I’m sorry, I can’t go on. I’ll return to the football.

Another one who decided this weekend that he’d had enough is the old Boca Juniors warhorse, Martin Palermo. He played his last game at the club’s Bombonera stadium in the 1-1 draw with Banfield. But the game was really just an excuse for the fans to celebrate a man who never pulled out of a challenge and never gave less than 100% in any game.

Diego Maradona was back at the ground after a two-year absence to join in the celebrations.

Palermo scored 194 goals in two spells at Boca in 317 games. Most of them were not beautiful. His tended to be the head that reached the ball in the middle of a ruck or the toe that stabbed it home while being muscled by a couple of burly defenders. But they were often vital goals at vital times which partly explains why the Boca fans hold him so dear to their hearts.

Martin Palermo - Old Warhorse

He also put in his fair share for Estudiantes and for the Argentina national team, scoring the goal in extra time in the rain against Peru for the team to qualify for the 2010 World Cup when all seemed lost.

I’m pleased to announce that I’ll be watching my football from now on in High Definition having had the relevant box delivered by our new providers. But it was prefaced by one of those stories that leaves you asking: “Did they really say that?”

They told us the man with the box would visit us for installation between 8am and 4pm. That lack of precision is annoying but common the world over and we accepted it with good grace. “But he won’t come if it’s raining.”

“What?! It’s an indoor installation that requires no outdoor activity whatsoever.”

“That’s the agreement. If it rains, they don’t work. Health and safety.”

It didn’t rain and he came and everything is now so much clearer, so much more definition. The great irony of course, is that while artificial life on my TV is clearer, outside my front door the real world has gone all blurry.

That’s because of ash blown up from an angry volcano deep down in southern Chile that’s caused havoc with flights in and out of everywhere in this part of the world and has left a thin film of ash coating Buenos Aires.

But that burst of volcanic anger will pale into nothingness against the eruption that will be provoked if mighty River Plate drop out of the top division. They didn’t do themselves any favours with a feeble 1-1 against Estudiantes and still sit precariously above the danger zone with just a game to play.

Arsenal beat Colon 1-0 on Saturday. Quilmes helped their survival hopes with a 2-0 win at San Lorenzo. All Boys beat Gimnasia 1-0, Tigre and Independiente drew 0-0 and Olimpo and Newell’s 1-1.

The other day with a group of ex-pat friends I was discussing what has become a fairly common topic of conversation – Argentine food.

There’s nothing wrong with it. How can you complain about what the locals claim is the tastiest, most succulent meat in the world? Then there’s a wide variety of pasta and empanadas (little pasties filled with meat, chicken, cheese and ham etc.) or pizza, lots and lots of pizza, and milanesas (breadcrumbed cuts of veal or chicken) and then, er, pasta again!

For a people with a rich Italian, Spanish, Greek, French, Arab and German heritage the Argentine culinary fare is surprisingly, disappointingly lacking in variety.

Not Much Choice...

The Arabs introduced a chick-pea slice called faina which you eat with pizza. There are abundant Chinese and Sushi restaurants but outside of the cosmopolitan neighbourhoods of Palermo and San Telmo you’ll find the menu almost always consists of meat, pizza, pasta, milanesas and empanadas.

The Peruvian community has by-passed this dullness by opening their own restaurants and often the only non-Peruvians eating there will be salivating gringos in search of something, anything different.

I got very excited a few months back when a Moroccan restaurant opened just a block away from my house. The food was exquisite, the decor and music authentic and the service friendly. It was closed within four months. The neighbourhood meanwhile buzzes to the sound of pizza delivery mopeds.

The supermarkets don’t offer much respite. There are two, maybe three, kinds of cheese which both look and taste like wall insulation and olives which look and taste like they’ve emerged from a goat’s arse and been painted green.

I find it bland and unimaginative but most Argentines will not agree. They eat nothing even remotely spicy. An extra twist of the pepper mill will leave them writhing on the floor, their lips clasping the nozzle of the nearest fire extinguisher.

I have a theory, developed while on the bus coming home from the match last week, that a country’s diet is a fair reflection of the characteristics of the people who live there – in a totally over-generalised, un-scientific sort of way.

The Mexican diet, for example, reflects that people’s rich cultural and historical heritage, its regional variations, its passions and conflicts. A study of the variety in colour and spiciness of the chillies available in any half-decent market backs up that theory. And which mad genius came up with chocolate mole sauce on chicken?

In Cuba, out of economic necessity, they eat rice and beans most days. And according to them, no-one makes rice and beans even remotely as well as they do.

The Argentine greengrocers, usually run by Bolivians who do know better, will give you apples, pears, oranges, mandarins and bananas on the fruit side and onions, potatoes, courgettes, aubergines and carrots in the veggie side. It’s bog standard fare, the bare essentials. You’ll emerge from a visit to a similar shop in Brazil or Colombia with your eyes dazzled by the colour and variety of items you didn’t even know existed.

With my theory being only half-baked, I’m not sure what the Argentine diet says about the Argentine people. Very conservative perhaps? Not especially adventurous or willing to embrace change? I’ll add a few more ingredients and will keep eating.

Peruvian potatoes...Plenty of 'em.

I do however know which is my favourite food, having stuffed my face in a fair few corners of Latin America. I could happily eat Mexican food every day. The Mexicans do and they swear by it.

But the cuisine that set my taste-buds tingling in the most provocative and tantalising way is the Peruvian for its rich regional variety. Potatoes with huancaina sauce, a ceviche or raw fish dish marinated in lime juice or a tender slice of llama steak.

With that off my chest, I’m off for lunch now. You’ll never guess what I’m having. OK, maybe you will. Pasta. It must be pasta because we had milanesas yesterday and pizza the day before.

But before the water boils, there’s just time to tell you about Argentinos Juniors’ victory over Colon. It seems as though they perform much better away from home these days with four of their six victories and only one defeat coming on their travels this season.

I didn’t see the game since I was in a bar preparing for the European Champions League final. And what a fine example of cordon bleu football we were served by Barcelona against I thought a slightly under-cooked Manchester United.

Back in this more rice and beans game of football, goals from Nicolas Blandi and Franco Neill either side of half-time wrapped this one up for Argentinos Juniors, before Colon replied. Three games to go and Argentinos Juniors really now playing for a place in the second international competition, the Sudamericana.