21/03
2010

Argentinos Juniors  1  Tigre  1

There were five or six of them, middle-aged chaps, working men no doubt with families and bills to pay. But they spent pretty much the whole match, their faces pressed to the wire fence, spewing insults at the Tigre manager, Ricardo Caruso Lombardi. These were not jocular snipes which Lombardi could deflect with witty ripostes. This was pure hatred and the manager was clearly unnerved, aware that if there were no wire fence, these men would tear him limb from limb. He responded, which was daft, since the group of abusers only got angrier. Eyeballs bulged, veins stood out on temples and they whacked the fence.

Lombardi. Villain or victim?

Lombardi. Villain or victim?

I didn’t know what Lombaridi had done to offend them but short of cooking and eating their wives and daughters, I could think of no crime that justified such vitriol. So I investigated and found out that he was a former manager of Argentinos Juniors – an unsuccessful manager so that hatred was justified afterall.

The abusers hardly watched the action on the pitch which was a shame since this was a great game with Argentinos Juniors playing smooth attacking football and effectively stifling the Tigre attack. Nicolas ‘The Vulture’ Pavlovich reaped the reward for this domination with a scrambled goal on 15 minutes. Then in the second half it all fell apart when the Argentinos goalkeeper, Nicolas Peric, momentarily lost his head and ran out of his box to palm away an innocuous ball. The referee had no hesitation in showing him the red card and the Red Bugs were on the back foot.

Tigre made them pay 15 minutes from the end when the league’s top scorer, Carlos Luna, headed home the equaliser in his team’s only attack of the match.

But the real violence has been happening elsewhere in Argentine football.  The game between Newell’s Old Boys and Velez Sarsfield in the city of Rosario attracted only about half of the spectators that normally attend. Thousands stayed away because they were scared and they were right to be.

Six Argentine football fans have been killed in the past month in internal battles for control of the barrabrava. It’s the same old story – there’s money in drugs and there’s power and influence to be had in aligning your group of thugs to the politicians and businessmen who run Argentine football.

But this year there’s an added incentive. Elements within the Argentine government are forking out all-expenses paid trips to South Africa in June for several hundred fans to support the national team. Numbers are limited and everyone wants a piece of the action. It’s difficult to see what’s in it for the government. There’ll be flags and banners waved on international television and with elections due next year some may even sport the names of the presidential couple, Nestor and Cristina Kirchner.

Pimpi - gunned down

Pimpi - gunned down

The latest victim of this violence was Roberto ‘Pimpi’ Camino who was gunned down outside a bar in the city of Rosario. He was an ex-leader of the Newell’s Old Boys barrabrava, hoping to make a comeback. Initial investigations suggest that he was perhaps killed by a group of drug dealers called The Monkies who have links with both of the city’s first division teams – Newell’s and Rosario Central. . They supported him when his star waned but when Pimpi started to operate a parallel drug enterprise, they took offence. Or Pimpi was killed by former policemen who felt he was not respecting their territory. The owner of the bar where the hit took place was himself an ex-policeman called The Bull while the man suspected of ordering the killing is a serving policeman known as The Black Angel. If your nickname is The Black Angel or The Bull you’ll get little job satisfaction handing out parking tickets and giving directions to tourists.  But I’m not sure I’d be frightened of anyone nicknamed Pimpi, however big his belly was.

Among the recent deaths was that of fourteen-year-old Newell’s fan, Walter Caceres, who was shot on a bus returning from a game and policeman, Sergio Rodriguez, caught in the crossfire of a fight at a train station between Estudiantes fans.

None of the violence took place in the grounds so the football administration is quick to distance itself from the killings. “Not our responsibility,” they’ll say. “Blame society.”

There have been 249 football related deaths in Argentina and all the indications are that it’s only going to get worse. Thankfully, Argentinos Juniors is a happy neighbourhood club. The police seem almost embarrassed to search me on the way in and the violence is only verbal and mostly directed at the officials and the opposing team.

Their historic rivals are Platense, a team that plays in an unappealing brown and white strip and are nicknamed the calamares or squid. They’re currently lurking in the nether regions of the second division so the two clubs have not met for some years but there’s a catchy little number sung on the terraces that suggests chopping up and cooking all marine creatures with tentacles.

Heavy rain again played havoc with the weekend football, with the superclassico between Boca Juniors and River Plate suspended after ten minutes  when it became apparent that the players would need snorkels and flippers to continue playing. Despite black market tickets selling for thousands, this is a game that means little since both giants are languishing in the bottom half of the table. Independiente , with a 2-0 win over Rosario Central, are now clear leaders with nine games to play.

30/08
2009

Argentinos Juniors 1 Banfield 1

It was the first home game of the season and I’m still finding my bearings so was not surprised to go through the turnstile and emerge in the section behind the goal where the barrabrava or hardcore fans stand. Yes, they still stand at Argentine grounds, leaning against metal posts, behind huge fences topped with razor wire. Ah! The old days.

The barrabrava in Argentina have a bit of a reputation. Not just for violence, which there is plenty of. Their influence, their poisonous stain, seeps much deeper into the Argentine game than it ever did in England. In some cases they control the terraces, dealing in tickets and selling drugs. There are reports of some controlling players’ contracts and, in a system in which club presidents are elected by the fans, having an undue and malignant influence on the running of some clubs.

So I was mightily relieved when I claimed my spot behind the goal to find I was standing near a couple of elderly ladies, grannies to be precise, although I wouldn’t say that to their faces of course. They wore their red Argentinos Juniors shirts stretched over bellies that had spent a lifetime being filled with Choripanes, the fatty sausages obligatory at football matches. They didn’t look like they were going to beat the crap out of anybody, although I wouldn’t want to risk walking muddy shoes over their living-room floor or playing football near their gardens.
There were also couples with babies, boyfriends and girlfriends holding hands and teenage boys with their dads.

Argentinos Junior’s reputation as a friendly neighbourhood club, a barrio club, was confirmed. I was safe.
There were some mean-looking heavily tatooed fellows hanging from the railings and a gentle waft of marijuana tinged the early evening air. There was a line of policemen at the back of the stand sporting an array of moustaches of the variety I’ve only ever seen displayed by Latin American policemen.

And the Banfield fans, decked in green and white, had come in numbers from their industrial suburb south of Buenos Aires.

But elsewhere, with the season still fresh out of its wrapping, the barrabrava had been doing their worst.
At the Boca Juniors training ground their goalscoring hero, a man who sweats blue and yellow blood for the team, Martin Palermo, was threatened by seven fans who called him a traitor for saying nice things, gentlemanly, sportsmanlike things, about a rival club.

“Who sent you?” asked Palermo, knowing they wouldn’t have bypassed the training ground security without some inside help. He once dedicated a goal to Rafa Di Zeo, a friend and former boss of the Boca barrabrava, now on day-release from prison where he’s serving time for beating up rival fans during a supposedly friendly match. While Di Zeo is out of action, a new man, Mauro Martin, has filled the void and there’s talk of a third faction edging into any spare gaps left on the terraces.

Boca 'fan' Rafa Di Zeo

Boca 'fan' Rafa Di Zeo

The battle for control of the barrabrava over at city rivals River Plate has spilled out onto the streets, with organised pitched battles and one ‘lieutenant’ being shot dead in a hit worthy of a Colombian drug gang.

The so-called fans at South American champions, Estudiantes, have also been in action. Last week, they went looking for former Manchester United and Chelsea player, Juan Sebastian Veron. They wanted to discuss the weekend’s derby match between Estudiantes and their La Plata city rivals, Gimnasia. Their spokesman was a man called Omar Alonso, recently released from fifteen years in prison for killing a taxi driver and drug dealing. Not the kind of man I’m inviting to my birthday party.

At the very least the barrabrava demand that the players give them tickets and free shirts. The clubs sometimes pay their travel and accommodation costs for away matches. One particularly influential bunch had an all-expenses paid trip to Germany for the 2006 World Cup.

In return, they promise security, loud support for the team and block votes for the candidates in the always keenly fought elections for club president. Let’s face it, if you’re too old, fat or useless to play the game, wouldn’t running your own local club do instead?

And because of this support, because the barrabrava have friends in the police force and in politics, in some cases are members of the police force or work for their local council or trade union, there is little talk about bringing them into line. Whenever they get out of control and there’s a killing or a players’ bus is attacked, there’s a lot of muttering and mumbling about doing something to curtail their influence. But generally they’re left to fight amongst themselves.
I could see none of that from where I stood behind the goal at the Diego Armando Maradona stadium. Simply a lot of noise and flag-waving which is just how it should be. I also saw Santiago Silva put the visitors ahead early on after a defensive blunder by Argentinos.

Gabriel Hauche, developing into a crowd favourite, put the home side back on level terms in the second half and one-one is how it ended – although Argentinos Juniors were probably lucky to escape with a point after some goal-line scares.

So two draws from two games. And I’ve staked my place on the terrace, just to the right of the goal, about fifteen steps up, to the right of the grannies, just behind where a couple spent most of the game snogging and to the left of a gaggle of very small children who accidently hit me often with long Argentinos Juniors balloons that they were given at the start of the game.