I know, I know. The first coat of dust has already settled on Uruguay’s 2011 Copa America trophy and I’ve still not written about it. But I have an excuse. I’ve been travelling. Up north, way up north in the province of Salta about as close as you can get to the Bolivian border without being spat at by cantankerous llamas.

We stopped in one village, San Juan, several hours walk from the nearest Facebook connection, that didn’t even have electricity. It had goats. And the locals grew several varieties of potato which they compared and swapped with one another by candlelight to pass the time on the long cold nights after the sun went down.

We did get to see most of the final though. The first half in a bar in the tourist town of Tilcara, part of the second half on a very small screen in a market stall selling crappy Andean jumpers and the last five minutes, and Diego Forlan’s second goal, back at our hotel in the neighbouring village of Maimara.

There’s no doubt in my mind that the best team won. But it was the worst possible final for the Argentine organisers. Uruguay has a population of a little over three million and Paraguay doesn’t have many more. No-one really knows since they refuse to stand still for long enough for anyone to count them so any figure will be only an estimate.  Then they die and new ones are born and I’m told that Juan Ramirez of Montevideo has been hiding in a cellar for five years so I’m not sure if he figures in any recent censuses, or should that be censi?

Diego Forlan: small country, big player.

So pretty much the entire populations of both Paraguay and Uruguay piled into the Monumental stadium in Buenos Aires for the final and there were still seats to spare.

How embarrassing all this is for South America’s footballing superpowers. Uruguay would fit several hundred times into Brazil, if anyone could be bothered to carry out such an exercise which I don’t really see the point of since you’d only have to put it back where it belonged and would probably lose some of the pieces in the process.

And Argentina, Messi, Tevez, etc, etc. What a washout they turned out to be. I can only blame the manager, Sergio Batista – a man for whom I had high hopes.  Alejandro Sabella, once of Leeds and Sheffield United, said to speak Spanish with a Yorkshire accent, has now taken over the reins in time for the beginning of the 2014 World Cup qualifying campaign which begins shortly against Chile.

How difficult can it be? Brazil qualifies automatically as hosts. Four others, possibly five, from South America go through. He can’t be as bad as his two predecessors, Batista and Maradona. And he’s got one of the finest selections of players the world has ever seen to choose from.

The most bizarre footballing story circulating in these parts in recent days was that the Argentine Football Association was planning to revamp the league. They were going to merge the first and second divisions to create a thirty-eight team division. There was no information about how this might work. The Godfather of Argentine football, Julio Grondona, tried to push it through with his snout as he has with every other contentious decision over the past thirty or so years. It was reported that he was under pressure from the government. He said no-one tells him what to do. The only reason anyone could think of for such a ridiculous plan was that it meant relegated giants, River Plate, would this way be back in the newly-expanded top flight. Unless of course they get relegated again in which case the first division would have to be expanded by another nineteen teams. And so on and so on.

After much incredulous head shaking, the fans and the club owners spoke up as one and Grondona, for once, was sent slinking back into the hole from which he’d crawled, mumbling and muttering and blaming everyone for the silliness except himself.

Both the Argentine and the English leagues kick-off this weekend. Argentinos Juniors travel to newly promoted Union of Santa Fe on Friday night. While West Ham entertain Cardiff City on Sunday. I’m predicting victories for both teams. But then I predicted Chile would win the Copa America and Andy Murray would win Wimbledon.  That’s how much I know.

You’ve got a few quid to spare so you put it on England to play Germany in the first semi-final and Spain to meet Italy in the other. Not especially daring and the odds aren’t great but it’s easy money.

But no! Football, like life, is not a box of chocolates. It’s a…. It’s a…. I don’t have the words. South America has been knocked off its axis. Nothing is quite where it should be. It’s like all the pictures on all the walls are crooked.

First up Uruguay stole all of Lionel Messi’s horcruxes and stamped on them. I’ve no idea what horcruxes are but I know that Harry Potter needed them to destroy Voldemort. And since all anyone in Argentina is doing these days is queuing up to see The Deathly Hallows 7b or watching the Copa America, I figured there must be a connexion.

Argentina should be a team. A team of great players. Potentially one of the best teams the world has ever seen. But they’re not. They’re mediocre. OK, Messi showed some great flashes of brilliance but Argentina were never that much better than Uruguay.

Their goalkeeper, Néstor Muslera, played out of his skin. Gonzalo Higuain finally found the net after missing twenty or so. He reminds me of West Ham’s Carlton Cole who can also score spectacular goals but only after missing twenty that you or I could have tucked away.

Celebrating Paraguayans

As they lined up for the penalties after it had finished all square at 1-1 I knew it was going to go Uruguay’s way. Argentina had a look of England preparing to go into a penalty shoot-out with Germany about them. Carlos Tevez was their Stuart Pearce.

The only thing that made Argentina’s exit palatable for many of those around me was that Brazil went out in an even worse fashion. There were no goals in their quarter final against Paraguay despite Brazil applying all the pressure and Paraguay defending like they had little else to live for. If you’ve ever been to Paraguay, and few have, you could argue that they don’t.

This was another story about a goalkeeper playing the game of his life. The Paraguayan between the sticks, Justo Villar, was astounding. It wasn’t just that Brazil lost on penalties, it was the way they lost. Elano blasted the first one into row Z. Paraguay missed their first one. The Brazilians then missed the goal altogether on two of their next three spot kicks and Justo Villar saved one. Four penalties and four misses from the best team in footballing history which has won four of the last five Copa Americas.

I’m equating Colombia with England since they’re not that good. They played quite well in the group stage and should have beaten Peru who recently replaced Venezuela as the worst team in South America. But Peru have surprised a few people in this tournament and scored a couple in extra time after Colombia had missed a penalty.

That just left Chile, who have been playing the best football of this tournament, to beat Venezuela for what looked like a nice smooth passage to the presidential balcony to pick up the cup without having to play Argentina or Brazil. Only they fluffed it. They hit the bar on numerous occasions, they blasted it over, they smashed it at the goalkeeper as they queued up to shoot.

Venezuela probably only attacked twice and twice they scored for it to finish 2-1. Venezuela will meet Paraguay in one semi-final and Uruguay play Peru in the other. If I listen carefully I can hear a slurping sound as giants of South American football lick their wounds.

I’d like to predict a winner for this tournament but after this weekend’s results, how can I?

With the group stage of the Copa America done and dusted it’s time for a round-up of the story so-far.  And what a story it’s been.

For a brief moment, a very brief moment, both giants of football in this part of the world looked like they might not qualify. Brazil stumbled through a couple of draws against Venezuela and Paraguay before relieving the tension with a 4-2 thumping of Ecuador.

And as Sergio Agüero poked that first goal past Costa Rica there was a palpable sigh of relief floating up to the skies above Argentina, like one of those farts that you’re not quite sure if anyone has heard.  It too was somewhat pungent, containing the residue of days of hot air and waffle from football fans and pundits alike pontificating on why the national team was not performing as it should.

Sergio Agüero - Maradona's son-in-law

Most of the blame seemed to rest on Leo Messi. Some asked: Is he even Argentine? He didn’t seem to know the words to the national anthem. Psychiatrists, politicians, former managers and players, Messi’s dad and the bloke that shines shoes at the corner of Cabildo and Congreso all had differing opinions.

“Play Javier Pastore,” went up one cry. He would be the solution. Why? I’m not sure. He’s not a bad player. But in a team boasting Agüero, Tevez, Di Maria et al, what would he do that they were not doing?

Both Colombia and Bolivia proved to be tougher in defence than many had anticipated. They put men on Messi. But rather than use the extra room that three men standing on Messi’s toes should have created, the likes of Tevez and Lavezzi ran stylishly into dead ends.

They reminded me of Georgi Kinkladze, formerly of Manchester City, who I saw several times at Upton Park. He was my favourite visiting player since you knew he would do magical things with the ball, have the home fans reluctantly gasping in bewilderment, before all his hard work resulted in absolutely nothing.

But faith has been restored by that three-nil drubbing of mighty Costa Rica, the only country in the world to disband its army. I shouldn’t really say this but if the Argentines won’t then someone must. This was only the Costa Rican youth team. They’d done well to beat Bolivia 2-0 and only lose by one goal to Colombia. But the goalkeeper wore braces on his teeth and, given the late kick-off, probably had a letter from his mum allowing him to stay up late.

Without that letter he’d have had to be substituted half an hour from the end to allow time for his cup of hot milk and a story before bed.

It’s Uruguay on Saturday in the quarter-finals. Argentina versus Uruguay is a bit like England against Scotland, but with good players.

Argentina pretty much ignores Uruguay most of the time, stealing its best players for its own league, buying up holiday homes and dirtying Uruguay’s much better beaches.

Uruguay whinges and moans about Argentina’s bullying and they glow with pride if you tell them how much more sophisticated and civilized they are compared to their bigger neighbours to the west.

But my tip for the title, riding on the crest of a 0% successful prediction rate, is Chile. They’re managed by Claudio ‘Bichi’ Borghi who brought Argentinos Juniors the national championship a little over a year ago.

He’s a man who plays attacking football yet shows little emotion. While those around him celebrate his team’s goals he might nod his head or stretch to a barely perceptible smile like a teacher acknowledging a piece of home-work well done. When championships are won and cups lifted, he might deign to rise from his seat.

Chile have played some great football to sit top of a tough group, containing Uruguay, a surprisingly competent Peru and Mexico. They’ll meet baseball playing Venezuela in the next round.

Brazil will play Paraguay who finished third in the same group, drawing all three games, usually after throwing away seemingly invincible leads. And Colombia clash with Peru. Ecuador, Costa Rica, Mexico and Bolivia are the four teams leaving early.

This competition is only going to get better. Watch this space.

With hindsight, this game was only ever going to end in a draw. There have been so many this season. But let’s be thankful for small mercies. At least there were a couple of goals and it didn’t start raining, despite threatening to throughout the game, until we were scurrying out of the stadium after we’d applauded our boys off the pitch and on their way to their winter holidays in a kind of semi-enthusiastic , mas o menos, sort of way.

As the final whistle blew, the Tigre fans and players leapt about and on top of one another as though they’d just won the championship and the lottery at the same time. Word had obviously just filtered through that results from the other four games being played simultaneously had gone their way and their place in the top division was safe.

Limited Action

But the news that in Argentina pretty much knocks the world off its axis is that River Plate lost at home to Lanus and must now play a couple of matches against a low-life from a lower division – in this case Belgrano of Cordoba – to retain their place in the top division and avoid relegation for the first time in their history.

As one who’s just lived through the trauma of relegation with West Ham I can assure River Plate supporters that, while it seems at times to be the worst thing that can happen to you, up there with having your house repossessed or your children confessing that they don’t much like football and only accompanied you to games for the burgers, life does go on and there is hope of a better future.

Argentine writer and River fan, Quino, wrote an excellent piece in the Perfil newspaper, for which his fellow fans will brand him a blasphemer, saying he wanted River to go down.

“Bit by bit, year after year,” he wrote, “River have turned into a team without a soul, without football, without goals, without respect for their tradition, with dull footballers and cowardly coaches. And now we’ve reached rock bottom.”

Relegation, he predicts, will deliver them a radical solution that he hopes will allow them to escape from what he calls interminable suffering.

So Long, Farewell.

Quilmes are down, for sure, after losing 1-0 to Olimpo. Huracan, who lost 5-1 to Independiente, must play Gimnasia, who squandered a two-goal lead to draw 2-2 with Boca, in what promise to be a couple of tense matches. The loser will go down, the winner will have another chance and will battle it out with a team from the lower echelon for a place in the top flight.

I personally witnessed most of Argentinos Juniors’ home games, a couple of away matches and the rest on tele and never have I spent so long watching football for so little reward. The football was often ineffective and the goals sparse. The Bichos were often the better team but in nineteen games they managed just 16 goals and most of them were scored away from home. That is not entertaining football by anyone’s standards.

They finished a very respectable fifth simply by having the best defence in the division, letting in just 11 goals. The champions, Velez, conceded 16 but managed to score more than twice as many as Argentinos Juniors. The point being, if you can’t score goals all our cheering and all the players’ huffing and puffing and running around amounts to very little and frustration will inevitably set in.

I hope the manager, Pedro Troglio, stays and manages to convince key players to remain with him since there’s the foundations of a decent team here. A couple of players who can tuck the ball in the net will make all the difference.

The truth is that none of the other teams I saw at the Diego Maradona stadium this season impressed me. I missed the Velez visit since I was at Upton Park watching West Ham lose to Birmingham City in the poorest exhibition of football at inflated prices that I’ve probably ever seen. May The Blues linger in the lower divisions for a long time and Aston Villa fans, you have my sympathy.

So, I’ll take a break now. I may return for the Copa America that kicks off on July 1. All the games, apart from the final, are being played in cities distant from Buenos Aires.  Since I’ve put my money on Argentina winning every major tournament for the last eight years or so, I’m going to continue in the same vein – Argentina to beat Brazil in the final. Not especially adventurous, I know. Paraguay and Uruguay are good outside bets and could provide an upset or two.

I’m putting my Argentinos Junior’s shirt in the wash now so it’s clean and ironed for next season. Hasta la vista chicos.

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.

If it keeps on like this, we’re going to have to start mumbling about perhaps winning the championship. Don’t forget, Argentinos Juniors is the team that finished in last place last season. Estudiantes, from the city of La Plata, were not only top of the table and unbeaten this season, they’re the South American champions, the holders of the Libertadores Cup. This was a big test and a huge scalp.

For no other reason than that they make up fifty percent of the population, women in Argentine football is a subject that must be covered. And since I’m neither a woman nor an Argentine and couldn’t make the game, I don’t feel worthy. So I’ve contracted my wife Claudia to do this piece. I, in return, will do some quality dish washing and perhaps some top of the range ironing in return.   Over to you, Claudia:

I love football.  I am a Boca Juniors fan and always have been – thanks to my mum being one (albeit in name only, since she never went to a game in her life.) I love an exciting game of live football but most of those I have seen haven’t been that good since all I’ve been to is about a dozen West Ham matches and one or two at Boca.

A couple of years ago I was lucky enough to land a job as a producer for a TV company covering the quarter-finals and one semi-final at the Copa America, the South American national championships, in Venezuela. I was supposed to be neutral but couldn’t restrain a cheer when Leo Messi scored a fantastic goal against Mexico.

I listen to football matches on the radio while I cook, no matter who’s playing – the commentators always giving away their preferences when they scream their team’s goals.

The only other game I had seen at the Diego Maradona Stadium was last April, when Argentinos Juniors met Independiente in a disappointing game of two very mediocre halves which ended in a 1-1 draw.  The result didn’t matter too much because the sun shone, the atmosphere was good and we had gone as a gang with some family friends.

Daniel couldn’t make this game and I thought I might be a bit conspicuous as a single female. So I took our twelve-year-old son, Benjamin, along with me. But there were, I was pleased to see, quite a few women in the crowd.

The game got off to a good start, even though the fans around us didn’t seem to think so. It’s just that maybe I’m not used to that amount of swearing at people you’re supposed to be supporting.   Fifteen minutes into the first half, the Estudiantes goalie had to be replaced after a bad collision with an Argentinos Juniors forward and ten minutes after that the bichos went one up.  A tall, muscular player managed to head the ball into the net after a scramble near the post.

See them? One, perhaps two, women in the crowd?

The Estudiantes players claimed it was offside, but the score remained 1-0 for Argentinos.  – “So,” I asked the man sitting next to me, “who scored?” –  “No idea” he replied.  Aren’t the men  supposed to know that kind of thing, able to answer the women’s questions?

Football in Argentina is all testosterone with little room for anything else.  There are very few women’s teams and a smattering of women referees.

It was big news when last June Estela Maris Álvarez de Oliveira was appointed as the main referee at the match between San Martín de San Juan and CAI in the Nacional B (the Argentine second division).  I’m not sure if she ever appeared again after all the abuse she took.

There are no women sports commentators on radio or television, something we share with the rest of Latin America.  At the Copa America in Venezuela, there were maybe two or three female producers in a sea of male journalists and photographers.  In most people’s imagination, women in football can only mean one thing – botineras. These are the invariably blond leggy starlets seeking fame and fortune by hanging on to the arms of Argentina’s  well-heeled and well-oiled footballers, preferably those playing abroad.  They’re the local equivalent of footballers’ wives.  And they’re so popular in our gossip magazines that there is going to be an Argentine version of that TV soap, called, well, Botineras, what else?

He's got nice legs...

However, what I saw today is simply women who like going to watch football, especially as the atmosphere was relaxed and they didn’t feel threatened.  So maybe I was the only crazy one shouting at Hauche and Ortigoza to get a move on and clapping and chanting ORTIGOOOO, ORTIGOOOO, But I believe the others were grateful, in their own quiet way, for the opportunity to see the beautiful game, and some not bad looking men to boot.

While we waited for the hordes of disappointed Estudiantes fans to leave the stadium, I watched some of the other women and girls standing around.  One pair struck me as different from the rest – they were about 20 years’ old, well groomed and carefully dressed, in a sort of casual but showy way.  There were no dads, brothers or boyfriends lurking around, so I can only assume they were on a fishing trip to see what could be had from among the crowd.  As we filed out of the stadium, I saw them again, standing near some fans who were looking at them like they were a couple of juicy steaks. The girls’ attention however was directed towards another group of better looking males.  So this, I realised, was like a prelude to tonight’s club scene.

More and more women these days are going to football.  We all want to share in our team’s successes and in some stadiums the atmosphere and other women help us to feel secure. Although I wouldn’t go to Boca Juniors since it’s too intimidating (even though I’ll always be a bostera).

But I enjoyed being at Argentinos Juniors and soaking in the enthusiasm of a crowd that just loves the game.  For ninety minutes it was great being part of that today.

[Ah, you want to know who scored... Matias Caruzzo, at 27’ in the 1^st half, apparently off-side.  The referee, who at moments seemed to have little control of the game, showed seven yellow cards, six to Estudiantes players.  Veron, despised by Argentinos fans, had a few chances on goal, but Argentinos managed to hang on for their fourth consecutive win this season.  They have now moved second in the table.]