13/04
2010

Game Fourteen: v Colon

Argentinos Juniors  3  Colon  1

Argentines will criticise their government for many things but I hope they give them a standing ovation for the latest announcement.  The education minister, Alberto Sileoni, has said that schools should show the Argentina games during the World Cup. Not only should they show them, they will be incorporated into the curriculum. Mr Sileoni called the World Cup a ‘party with a huge effect on teaching.’

So no clandestine listening to radios behind the bike sheds, no phoning in sick, no sneaky calls home during the break to check the latest score. The Argentine Football Association is even going to work with the education authorities to produce a folder on the games. Wonderful!

Past your bedtime, chicos!

Past your bedtime, chicos!

So when the World Cup is over, you’ll be able to stop any Argentine child on the street and ask him or her about recent Nigerian religious and ethnic strife, or the current state of South Korean cinema or perhaps whether they think the European Union should bail out the leaky Greek economy.  They’ll also be learning about recent South African history and whether Argentina is more suited to a 4-4-2 or a 4-3-3 formation.

So Juan’s school timetable will look something like this: 0900-1000 Maths. 1015 Mid-morning break. 1015-1115 History. 1115-1315 Argentina v South Korea. (Homework: 1,000 words – Lionel Messi has never reproduced his Barcelona form for the national side because he doesn’t get the same quality of service – Discuss.)

During the 2006 World Cup, many schools did suspend classes to show the key games. Some closed altogether in the knowledge that half the class simply wouldn’t turn up – because the kids wouldn’t come if they didn’t have to, obviously, but also because the parents wouldn’t have brought them and half the teachers would have called in sick.

It’s been said in one of those surveys commissioned to confirm what we already know, that 91% of Argentines are interested in the World Cup and will at least watch the games in which the national side is involved.

The week Argentina met Germany in the 2006 quarter finals, a national newspaper took a photograph of the busy 9 de Julio junction with Corrientes right in the centre of Buenos Aires at two on a weekday afternoon when it was chocoblock with angry, frustrated, impatient motorists all with somewhere very important to get to. The following day at the same time they took the same picture which showed just one car, a dog sniffing a dustbin and what looked like a couple of bemused-looking tourists, probably Canadians.

Every shop, restaurant, newspaper kiosk and petrol station will have their TVs on for the World Cup. I’ve even seen shoeshine men out on the street with small battery-run screens positioned next to their polish.

Football in Argentina is infused into children from birth. Boys play football at school and in the parks like they do anywhere else. It’s also a tradition here for all the kids in the class to have birthday parties to which all the others in the class are invited, even snotty-nosed Carolina who no-one ever wants to sit next to. That means you get at least 20 parties a year and a lucrative industry of fiesta salons has developed, providing entertainers and food.

A popular version among the boys is to hire an indoor pitch with trainer and play footy for an hour-and-a-half, followed by hot-dogs, fizzy drinks and birthday cake.

That’s tough for that 0000.1% of boys that don’t like football. They simply have to play with the girls and then wait until they’re older and can pursue their interest in model trains, music or clothes design.

And those same kids will continue playing football together beyond school and into adulthood. I’ve seen groups of elderly men, too frail to kick a ball, but still meeting for the post-football pizza and beer as they have every Tuesday evening for the past fifty years – just without the football.

Child Prodigy...Little Diego.

Child Prodigy...Little Diego.

Argentina boasts a well-run and well-coached network of football schools which ensure that little potential talent falls through the net. The professional clubs all have nursery teams and both the clubs and parents will invest a massive amount of time and effort in nurturing little Carlos or Javier’s footballing genius.

But if Argentina falls down in the latter stages of this World Cup, I think I know what the problem is. They never had enough sleep as children and will simply run out of steam.

Tonight’s game kicked off at 8.30 and didn’t finish until well gone 10. By the time you’ve left the stadium and arrived home you could be talking about close to midnight. The terraces were crawling with children, yet Tuesday is a school day, kicking off at 8.15am.

There’s many a time that I’ve been leaving a restaurant at elevenish at night, early by Argentine standards, to see families arriving – with their children. It’s perfectly normal for my kids’ friends to phone at gone 10, on a school night, and ask to speak to them. I’m not allowed to say that they’ve gone to bed since that would make them the subject of ridicule the following day.

I think I’ll drop a note to Diego and tell him that the squad needs to be in bed by ten and then be fed a hearty breakfast the next morning.

Argentinos Juniors have obviously been getting plenty of sleep and eating lashings of porridge for breakfast since, despite a nervy performance against Colon, they seem to be staying the course.

Argentinos Juniors goalkeeper, Nicolas Peric, gets my man of the match award. He saved a Colon penalty on twenty minutes, blocked a couple of fine shots and was hugely entertaining as he stamped the ground in rage and harangued his colleagues after Colon scored a last minute consolation goal. First half goals from Oritigoza and Calderon and a second half strike from Ismael Sosa also helped, as did the fact that the match officials don’t seem to grasp the offside rule.

This win plants Argentinos Juniors in second place behind Godoy Cruz on goal difference. Earlier in the day, they put six past Tigre. Independiente and Estudiantes are sniffing our backsides, just two points behind with five nerve-tingling games to go.

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01/03
2010

Game Six: v Godoy Cruz

Argentinos Juniors  1  Godoy Cruz  2

I’m going to ramble only semi-coherently in relation to this game since it pains me to be direct. The Argentinos Juniors’ front man,  Nicolas Pavlovich is nicknamed El Buitre or the vulture because he’s a ruthless predator who devours any loose ball and callously slots it into the net. But after this game he should perhaps be renamed ‘The Pampered Budgie’ or ‘Mimi the Poodle.’

Hungry for goal

Hungry for goal

A wounded herd of antelope lay invitingly in the Godoy Cruz penalty area, with assorted vegetables available, but instead of sinking their talons into the tender flesh, ‘The Vulture’ and his teammates pondered the menu, inquiring over the vegetarian option. As the home side nibbled on crudities, Godoy Cruz stole into their nests, ate their children and stole their electrical appliances.

By the time Santiago Gentiletti grabbed one back for Argentinos Juniors it was too late. Godoy Cruz had already scored two and were ready to saunter back to the western city of Mendoza, licking the blood off their lips and chuckling heartily to themselves. This modest little team, which Argentinos Juniors thrashed at their own stadium last season, are unbeaten this year and sit proudly as joint leaders with Colon at the top of the Argentine first division.

This was the first time my kids had seen Argentinos Juniors beaten at home and I could see them losing faith. “Be strong,” I said wisely. “Strength in defeat will make you more of an Argentinos Juniors fan and victory, whenever it comes, will taste even sweeter.”

They looked at me admiringly and replied: “Can we have another Coke and a hotdog.” As a West Ham fan I’ve learnt to deal with defeat. I prepare myself for disappointment and am well aware that football, like life, can turn from being 2-0 up with twenty minutes to go into a 3-2 home defeat in the time it takes to drink half a cup of Bovril.

I have an ill-thought out theory that bears no scientific scrutiny whatsoever that the team you support says something about the kind of person you are.  We could, but we don’t, all support Manchester United, Chelsea, Real Madrid and River Plate. Who are those fans who turn out every week to cheer on Rochdale, Stenhousemuir and Platense? What kind of grit do you have in your souls? And is there a Swiss Army knife blade designed to remove it?

I’m fairly likely to forget your name, will certainly not remember your children’s but I will never forget what football team you support. You might be John the chartered accountant but to me, fundamentally, you’ll always be ‘that bloke with a season ticket at QPR who was at the 1967 League Cup final.”

Why oh why oh why!!!?? Half time misery.

Why oh why oh why!!!?? Half time misery.

The team you support and what it says about you is vital in Argentina where football seeps, sometimes unexpectedly, into everyday life. And real life very rarely seeps into the football stadium, which is probably one of the main reasons why the game is so popular here.

Argentina is a wonderful country but it should be so much better. They’re celebrating their bicentenary this year. When they marked the first hundred years in 1910, the future looked so bright. Immigrants were pouring in at a steady rate, attracted by the promise of a brave new world. The recently tamed pampas stretched the length of ten-thousand football pitches. There was land and jobs for all. Their railway network was one of the finest in the world. Grand, new European-style buildings lined the boulevards of Buenos Aires.

But a hundred years and several military coups later, spiced up by countless corrupt governments and millions of squandered pesos, the bicentenary is a little less sparkly.

A taxi ride rarely goes by without the driver bemoaning the state of the country, pining nostalgically for the good old days and grumbling about rising crime, the government, the economy and the schools. Since none of them were around in 1910 I’m not sure what golden age they’re referring to. But they’re not happy and football provides some much needed escapism.

There’re a lot of teams to choose from in Buenos Aires so just pick the one that best suits your personality. Boca Juniors if you’re a working class lad made good or with aspirations to make good or with the desire to flaunt real or imagined working class roots. It’s River Plate, the Millionaires, if you were born affluent, or would like to have been, and want the world to know. Racing Club will do for those who really revel in a good whinge since they constantly disappoint and it has to be your local neighbourhood side if you’re a local neighbourhood sort of person.

No-one is quite so calculated about which club they are seen to support as Argentine politicians. The former president and wannabe racing car driver, Carlos Menem, was an avid River Plate fan. Nestor Kirchner, the last president, husband of the current president and widely thought to be the man behind the throne, is a Racing Club man.  Much was made of the fact that as he went under the knife for a recent operation he asked how his team was doing. His wife and the doctors lied since, as usual, Racing had thrown away a lead and they didn’t want to upset Mr Kirchner in his delicate state.

Racing Club fan

Racing Club fan

The mayor of Buenos Aires, Mauricio Macri, is stinking rich and would look much better in the red and white of River Plate than the blue and gold of Boca Juniors. But it was as president of Boca that he gained national recognition. While he was at the helm, Boca won trophies and balanced their books. Many of the large working population of Buenos Aires thought: “Maybe he’ll run the city as well as he runs the club.” They voted for the kind of man who they’d normally dismiss as just another cocktail sipping, rich man’s son.

As you can probably tell from the tone of this ramble, I’m a little disillusioned with the Red Bugs after two defeats on the trot. It’s Estudiantes away next then Velez at home, two tough games and the team isn’t gelling.

Before all the games this weekend,  there was a minute’s silence for the victims of the Chilean earthquake. Two Argentinos players, the goalkeeper Nicolas Peric and Emilio Hernandez, are Chilean and perhaps, with the uncertainty back home to worry about, they were not fully concentrated on their game. Real life can sometimes, even in Argentina, seep into the football stadium.

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15/11
2009

Game Fourteen v Colon

Colon 2  Argentinos Juniors 0

With this defeat, Argentinos Juniors can say goodbye to any lingering hopes they had of challenging for the title. But it was a sad way to go. A dodgy penalty in the second minute put the visitors on the back foot. An even dodgier one in the second half punched the final nail in the coffin. To rub salt into gangrenous wounds, Argentinos also had two goals disallowed. Then a long journey back to Buenos Aires during which to mull over their poor
fortune.

Colon is a town way up in the north-east of Argentina…a nondescript sort of place which you´d probably never visit unless you had family or friends there — and then, not often.

Four Legs Good

Four Legs Good

That´s why I found myself in another of Argentina´s nondescript towns, visiting family, which I don´t do often. In this case the in-laws in Chacabuco, deep in that huge, flat, fertile plain in the middle of the country known as the Pampas. The in-laws live on the edge of this nondescript town in the middle of a huge, flat, featureless, fertile plain which lends itself to ample alliteration and many cows. The alliteration is infinite but there are not as many cows as there used to be, the reasons for which I shall explain later.

I´m not sure if you´ve ever attempted to describe a nondescript town but I shall dig deep and give it a try.  Chacabuco lies about four hours west of Buenos Aires, as the bus drives. When I say the Pampas are flat, I mean really flat. In the words of that old Who song, you can see for miles and miles and miles. You might see a water tank in the distance and think you´re nearly there. But you´re not. And when you do finally reach your destination, you wonder why you bothered.

We passed through several other towns which looked pretty much the same — Chivilcoy, San Andres, Lujan. I imagine that you could easily get off the bus in the wrong town and not realise your mistake for several hours — or years!! Residents pass their days scratching their bellies and drinking mate, a bitter tea imbibed through a metal straw.

Chacabuco, like all the other towns in the region, has a main plaza that you won´t be surprised to learn is in the middle of the town. In the middle of that, you can bet the price of a Chelsea season ticket, that you´ll find a statue of San Martin, Argentina´s liberator from Spanish colonial rule. Sometimes he´ll be on a horse, sometimes not. So I´m exagerating a little here, there is some variety. Then you´ll find a plaza in each corner of the town. So that´s five plazas in all. If you run out of things to do, you can walk from one to another — and then back again!

There are people who enjoy and thrive in flat places, like Kansas or Saskatchewan or Cambridgeshire but I´m not one of them. I need a hill or two, or a coastline. Does living in a place like Chacabuco make you flat and dull, or do towns like this attract flat and dull people? This is small town with a capital S and a capital T. The residents are often suspicious of all outsiders – whether they´re from Buenos Aires or Basingstoke, so they treat me with no more or less disdain than any other visitor.

I fear I´m being a little harsh. Chacabuco is peaceful, relatively prosperous and a lovely place to bring up children. I also saw a hummingbird, which left me very excited. And that  you don´t do in Basingstoke! Also, I have discovered three interesting things about Chacabuco. It´s the hometown of Argentina´s 1978 World Cup winning captain, Daniel Passarella. It produces oats, cows and soya. And it´s got five plazas. Or did I already mention that?

When I first visited Chacabuco some years ago, it had just two restaurants, both pizzerias. One was closed at lunchtime, the other in the evening. But now the town is buzzing, literally. A by-product of its recent genetically-modified soyabean prosperity is that the whole population now travels by moped — flat out on the paved roads, recklessly on the dirt tracks and often with girlfriend, two small children and pet dog riding pillion.

Soya...Mmmm!!?

Soya...Mmmm!!?

Monsanto and its GM soya have transformed the Argentine countryside. Cows are not exactly an endangered species. But more and more of them are being herded off the lush green pastures and are now reared in the months before slaughter in tight enclosures on high protein food in a system known as feedlot. It´s nutritious and tasty, at least that´s what its supporters
will tell you, but it´s not grass.

Soya is also nutritious and tasty, at least that´s what its supporters will tell you. But most Argentines would rather nibble Sir Alex´s discarded chewing gum than put soya on their plate.

Most of it goes to Europe and China to feed cattle. There´s surely some irony there but I find that after a few hours in this place – the flatness, the wind and the smell of cow excrement mixed with the chemicals – and I can´t think straight.

What is beyond question is that there´s more and more soya and less and cows, simply because GM soya is easier to grow and much, much more lucrative. You almost never have to call out the vet to deal with tricky illnesses. There are stories here that some producers will buy themselves a new house on the profits of each harvest. And some have traded their mopeds for fancy four x fours. There are more than two restaurants in town now, a wine shop and stores selling designer clothes.

But what of the gauchos, those hardy Argentine cowboys who tamed the savage pampas? With fewer cattle to herd they are becoming little more than showmen who entertain tourists. Or they sit around drinking mate, scratching their bellies and telling tales of the old days.

I also scratched my belly as I watched this game live on television, with the windows open and the crickets making a hell of a racket outside. This was a reasonable performance by Argentinos Juniors against one of the title contenders. But the result, thanks to poor refereeing, left me disappointed and disillusioned.

I think I´ll drown my sorrows with a cocktail made from fermented GM soya tipped over a glass of crushed ice with a cherry on top. It´s the future and it smells foul!

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