Arsenal 2 Argentinos Juniors 2
This was one of those trips across town to a nether region of Greater Buenos Aires, Sarandi, requiring a convoluted combination of bus, train and underground travel. And for that, you need loose change which is often as sparse as decent options in a West Ham attack.
Like Gold
The banks will, reluctantly, change ten pesos worth. I, however, choose to queue outside a hole in the wall at the main Retiro train terminal for twenty pesos of clinky, shiny coins. Then, if I’ve got the time and no-one’s spotted me, I’ll queue again and head home with pockets bulging like the cheeks of a hamster that’s just emerged from an ‘All You Can Eat’ granary and jangling like the Tin Man on speed.
This is the only country I know where one peso can be worth more than two pesos. That’s because if it’s pissing with rain and I’m far from home, then I’d gladly exchange my crisp, new but easily obtainable two peso note, which the buses won’t accept, for a grubby, sweaty one peso coin, which they do. And I’d dance a tango and perform a little juggling trick as the tip.
This shortage of change is an inconvenience to public transport users like myself. But it’s also turning me into a liar. “No,” I’ll mumble and fumble when the shopkeeper asks if I’ve got any change. “I haven’t got any, none whatsoever, not a thing.” He knows I’m lying and I know that he knows that I’m lying, but what can I do?
I have to consider the welfare of that huge army of one-legged Peruvian guitar players, blind Bolivian jugglers and banjo-playing waifs and strays that strolls the aisles of the buses and trains to earn a few pennies to feed their hungry families. And of course, I need my own bus fare home.
This shortage of change has never been adequately explained which gives rise to a wide array of conspiracy theories. One is that the bus drivers sell 90 pesos worth of coins for 100 pesos on the black market.
Travelling Bichos
The man behind me in the queue had the idea that the Argentine Central Bank bought their coins for US dollars but were short of readies because President Cristina Kirchner hoarded the greenbacks to finance her shopping trips to New York. There was something in there about Paraguayan gun runners and a large shipment of marmalade from Tanzania but it was my turn to be served and I couldn’t stay to join up the dots.
Conspiracy theories abound, partly because of the manipulation and often downright dearth of official information.
The official government statistics office, the INDEC, quite blatantly misquotes the inflation figures. President Kirchner never gives interviews and rarely attends news conferences and her ministers follow her lead.
Football, as it so often does, mirrors the rest of society. Those who run the clubs are accountable only to shady politicians and the tougher elements of the barra brava to whom they owe favours, so it’s very difficult to get a grasp of what’s going on in the corridors and dark corners of the grounds.
One of the biggest footballing mysteries of all is that surrounding Argentina’s 1978 World Cup win, with their place in the final rumoured to have been bought by the then military dictatorship.
There were two groups of four in what passed for the semi-finals, with the top team in each going through to the final. The Dutch clinched their spot but Argentina needed to beat Peru by at least four clear goals to meet them. They scored six.
Worthy Winners?
It could simply have been that a very good home team, boasting Passarella, Ardiles, Kempes and Tarantini, did what they had to do – and more – against a tired Peru.
But the Peruvian keeper, Ramón Quiroga, was born in Argentina. There’s been talk of men in funny jackets making clandestine visits to the Peruvian players, of phone conversations between the Argentine military and their counterparts in Lima and Argentine ships laden with goodies sitting off the Peruvian coast just waiting for that fourth goal to go in before upping anchors and sailing into port while the crew danced a victory jig on the poop deck and tossed presents from the crow’s nest.
None of this has ever been convincingly proved nor satisfactorily disproved and is likely to be discussed for as long as football is played and beer is drunk – or Alex Ferguson discards that piece of gum he’s been chewing for the past forty years. Whichever is the sooner.
It’s all a bit like the debate over whether England’s third goal in the 1966 World Cup final crossed the line or not. Except without the ships and the military and the llamas. Didn’t I mention the llamas? But apart from that – almost the same.
There were plenty of theories circulating the terraces at this game. Arsenal is where the Argentine Football Association boss, Julio Grondona, began his long career. So every dodgy refereeing decision – and there were plenty here tonight – is met with a chorus of abuse insinuating that the fellow in black had been ‘got at’ by the top man.
Argentinos were a tad unlucky but were really not good enough to grab all three points. That would have put on them on top but perhaps they were struck by stage fright. They started well with an early goal from José Luis Calderón,, who is old enough to have been a ballboy at that ’78 final. But Arsenal pulled one back before half-time then took the lead early in the second half with a penalty which really shouldn’t have been.
The visitors were unusually disjointed and gave the ball away far too often. They were just not themselves. But Facundo Coria did equalise just before the final whistle and Argentinos Juniors now sit just one point behind the joint leaders, Estudiantes and Independiente with four games to go.
