Argentinos Juniors 1 Huracan 2
Of course, everyone tries just that little harder to beat the champions. And with a lot of new players, Argentinos Juniors were still finding their feet. And their midfield playmaker, Nestor Ortigoza, was missing and the wind blowing in a north-north-easterly direction always has an impact on the way the home-side plays, especially on the seventh of the month when that month begins with the letter ‘A.’
Whatever the reasons, this was painful defeat, especially after all the hope and expectation harvested last season. Yes, there were a lot of changes. But the new manager, Pedro Troglio, had the team playing the same attractive passing game. Argentinos controlled the first half, taking the lead with a well-worked goal from one of the new boys, Gonzalo Vargas, five minutes before the break.
Thanks Champs
The crowd liked that and took him to their hearts, immediately giving him a nickname – ‘the Uruguayan’ because he’s, well, from Uruguay.
Everything was running according to plan. There was a big crowd, full of expectation. Someone even spent the close season cutting big letters out of polystyrene, and painting every other one red, to spell out the words: Gracias Campeon.
As I approached the stadium I could smell the newly cut grass mixed with possibly even a tinge of fresh paint. The police hadn’t done much in the way of pre-season training. At the turnstile an officer held us up while he lit a cigarette then leaned on the railing with his belly protruding like a sack of rice hanging on the wall. He kind of half-heartedly raised his free hand and tapped my coat pocket then allowed me through with a barely perceptible nod of his head.
No-one wants to admit that they don’t recognise their own players, but with so many new signings I must confess that I’d scribbled down some notes which I surreptitiously slid in and out of my pocket before announcing boldly to anyone that cared to listen: “He looks useful that Escudero.” Or “Ocampo seems to be settling in nicely.”
Just fourteen seconds after the kickoff I heard my first reference to the referee’s mother’s private parts. In fact, the old guy behind me had obviously been rehearsing his insults during the idle months, abusing the match officials and the away fans with such vigour that at half-time he offered a kind of half-hearted apology to those around him whose eardrums had had to endure his assault. “I’ve had no-one to shout at for two months,” he explained.
And then, in a nightmarish three minutes mid-way through the second half, our dream drooped like a pensioner at an orgy who’s just discovered that he’s mixed his Viagra up with his indigestion tablets.
Firstly, Huracan’s Mariano Martínez blasted the ball home for the equaliser from an almighty bundle in the Argentinos defence. Then, a minute later, Cesar Montiglio put the visitors two-one up after Gustavo Oberman lost the ball in midfield. It couldn’t get much worse. Could it?
There are parts of the Diego Maradona stadium I simply can’t see from where I stand, even with a bit of jigging and jumping about. Most of the bottom right-hand corner of the pitch, for instance, is obscured by the managers’ dugouts and more metal posts, fencing and barbed wire than you’d find around most prison compounds. So I’m not really sure what happened next. But the result was that another Argentinos Juniors new boy, Gabriel Perez Tarifa, was sent off just eight minutes after he came on as a substitute in his first ever game for Argentinos Juniors for what the newspapers called ‘excessive abuse.’ Not, I hope, another reference to the referee’s mother’s private parts!
Restricted Vision
One of the reasons that Argentinos Juniors became champions was because they made a habit of carving results out of lost causes. Two-nil down away to Lanus in the second game of last season to win six-three. Three-one down at home to Independiente in the penultimate match to clinch a crucial four-three victory, and more.
But not today. There were a couple of chances and the crowd managed to rally a bit of chanting along the lines of “we may be losing this one but we’re still champions, so there!” But it wasn’t going to be.
Argentinos Juniors were fine champions last season. And modest Banfield worthy winners the season before that. But I can’t help feeling that the planets are being realigned to what are generally perceived to be their rightful places.
Boca Juniors and River Plate don’t win everything all the time. But if two or three seasons go by without at least one of them being the dominant team in Argentina then people start to feel a little uneasy, like things are not quite right. As if Sir Alex were not chewing gum or Alan Shearer were saying something interesting. It’s OK but it’s not quite right.
Boca, of course, have poached Argentinos Junior’s championship-winning manager Claudio Borghi, the backroom staff and one of his best players, Matias Caruzzo. River, who have been dismal for several seasons now, began to show signs of recovery towards the end of the last campaign and have bought wisely during the close season.
When Boca and River fade it’s usually Independiente or San Lorenzo that pick up the slack and Estudiantes, the best Argentine team in recent years, are still strong, their 103-year-old talisman, Juan Sebastian Veron scoring the penalty today in a 1-0 win over Newell’s Old Boys.
The three promoted teams are Quilmes, who yo-yo between the top two divisions, Olimpo from Bahia Blanca way down south and modest, some might say ramshackle, little Buenos Aires outfit, All Boys. Since football is very much a man’s game in Argentina, I expect their stay in the top flight to be brief.
