Banfield  3  Argentinos Juniors  0

This was the resumption of the second game of the season, called off after eight minutes because of torrential rain. And it looked to me like the Argentinos Juniors players never really dried out. Banfield are the current champions and it showed. They were snappy, they were hungry and they enjoyed their football. They never allowed the visitors time on the ball and when they won it they always had options, always had players running into space.

I must confess that I didn’t go to this game – a 9.30pm kickoff in one of Buenos Aires’s nether regions and the prospect of a late night trip home on public transport didn’t exactly set my red and white blood racing. And the game was live on state-run television. All the first division games are live on TV under a government-financed scheme introduced last year to bring football back to the masses and win tens of thousands of votes into the bargain. They’d have mine, I thought as I settled down with a cold beer and a bowl of crisps, if I had one.

Falklands - Malvinas?

Falklands - Malvinas?

There are two things and two things only that guarantee almost total agreement in Argentina – support for the national football team and the knowledge that the Falkland Islands, Las Islas Malvinas, are rightfully theirs and should be returned forthwith.

A British company, Desire Petroleum, has just moved its drilling platform, the Ocean Guardian, into place about one hundred kilometres off the islands in the search for oil. Lovely, slushy crude oil. Some say there may be as many as 60 billion barrels in them there treacherous waters. But I suspect that’s a crude, slushy estimate. Ask yourself, how can anyone with any certainty know how much of anything lies under the sea bed beneath several hundred metres of some of the wildest waters on the planet? And it won’t be down there in 60 billion neatly-packed barrels either. Sixty-billion barrels of wishful thinking on the part of some oil executive with a model rig on his desk and a dream of owning a much bigger car.

The Ocean Guardian is putting down its roots as the Argentine government flounders in turbulent waters of its own. Inflation is rampant, although official figures say it’s not, the government is losing control to the opposition in the two houses of parliament and President Cristina Kirchner and her husband, Néstor, the previous president, are being accused of dodgy dealings. And there are elections next year.

The national football team, with Maradona at the helm, looks increasingly like a colony of penguins which can’t find its fish. They’re unlikely to bring Argentina together in wild rejoicing in July. So the Falklands will have to do. It’s a sure-fire winner, just as long as they don’t go overboard and send in the troops like they did in 1982. That just upsets people.

The Malvinas is an issue here. School text books show them as Argentine property. As you leave airports and cross borders, the first thing to welcome you into the country are signs reading: “Las Malvinas son Argentinas.” The bus that takes me to the Argentinos Juniors ground goes down a street called The Malvinas Combatants and there’s a particularly good ice-cream parlour around the corner from my house called: Las Malvinas, which does a very tasty sheep and penguin flavour cone. To tell the truth, it doesn’t, but it should do.

There are active Falkland war veterans groups across the country. They differ over whether the 1982 invasion by the then military government was a good idea or not. They criticise subsequent governments for the treatment they’ve received. Hundreds of veterans have committed suicide, unable to fit back into a society that labelled them as losers or as unwitting tools of a repressive regime. Some former soldiers are suing their officers for human rights abuses, saying as well as being under-trained and poorly equipped for battle, they were abused and sometimes tortured. But, like 99.9 percent of all Argentines, they all agree that Las Malvinas son Argentinas.

Closer to tango than bagpipes

Closer to tango than bagpipes

The British established their presence there in 1833 in the days when the fellow with the biggest ship and the most cannons could thrust his country’s flag into the ground and claim pretty much anywhere outside of Europe for king and country, while just a few stray penguins looked on. The Spanish wanted them, the French wanted them and, when the Spanish left, the fledgling Argentina said they wanted them. They are, after all, the closest – by several thousand kilometres.

The sticking point has always been the residents, the kelpers as the Argentines call them, none too kindly. They want to stay British in a very steak and kidney pie, Enid Blyton, tea and cricket on a Sunday afternoon sort of way.

They use Argentina’s long history of economic chaos and military repression as a reason for not swapping Queen and country for tango and big, juicy steaks. If the Falklands did became Las Malvinas then within weeks the driving would get much worse, inexplicable queues would form at the post office and government buildings would become swamped in bureaucracy. There would also be more beauty parlours and hairdressers, pubs would also be open longer and children would be allowed in.

But if you take a look at Argentine demographics you’ll see that the majority of the forty-million population lives in and around Buenos Aires. Vast expanses of Patagonia in the south and the hot, northern provinces are almost bereft of human habitation. So how many Argentines would actually go and live in the Falklands?

OK, who's got the fish?

OK, who's got the fish?

It used to be about how much of the world map you could claim as your own. Now it’s all about oil. If the United States and Britain invaded Iraq under the false justification of weapons of mass destruction, they’re not going to let a few whingeing Argies stop them from extracting a possible 60 billion barrels from the South Atlantic.

Argentina has the support of the whole of Latin America and the Caribbean. The Venezuelan president, Hugo Chávez, appealed directly to Queen Elizabeth to give the islands back. Argentina has gone to the United Nations. Tension is high. But Argentina won’t be invading this time.

The government, with its many faults and problems, is a democratic one and proud of it. The military, defeated and disgraced in the 1980s, is not the force it was and doesn’t have the stomach or the hardware for a fight.

There’ll be plenty of shouting and some frenzied flag waving. But if it’s a result Argentines are looking for, then it looks like the pressure is back on Diego, Leo, Carlitos and Javier to deliver the goods in South Africa later this year.

Argentinos Juniors  1 Arsenal  1

No, obviously not THAT Arsenal. This is the Argentine Arsenal from the Buenos Aires suburb of Sarandi. They play in blue and red, are not managed by a Frenchman, have passionate support and have achieved very little since their foundation in 1957. There’s not even any evidence that their foundation was inspired by the London Arsenal.

But for the purposes of this article, I like to think that it was. And even if it wasn’t, there’s plenty of evidence of the British influence on the foundation and establishment of football in Argentina. So, how do they thank us for it? With the Hand of God! That’s how!

That evidence is first of all in the English words in the club names – Boca Juniors, River Plate, Newell’s Old Boys and my own personal favourite, Chaco For Ever, from the northern city of Resistencia and currently top of the regional third division.

Then across the river in Uruguay you’ve got Liverpool and in Bolivia another corker, The Strongest. Bolivia also boasts Blooming but I’m not sure whether that derives from ‘Blooming Marvellous’ or ‘Blooming Crap.’

The man credited with introducing the Argentines to football was a Glasgow-born schoolteacher, Alexander Watson Hutton, who arrived in 1882 and set up the Buenos Aires English High School. It was and still is part of a network of schools modelled on the British public school system with all the elitism, snobbery and croquet and cucumber sandwiches on the lawn that comes with it.

The school was represented by the Alumni Football Team and would play the likes of  Rosario Cricket Club and the Buenos Aires Football Club, founded by Yorkshireman, Don Thomas Hogg in 1867.

Other clubs sprouted up like a rash of handballs in the French team, but it was still very much a ‘gentleman’s’ sport and awfully British.

Many years ago I worked on the English-language newspaper, The Buenos Aires Herald. Asked to call the estate of an Anglo-Argentine family to get the bridge results, or something, a woman answered the phone in the kind of posh English accent that only the Queen uses these days. She was probably one of the last members of a remote corner of the British Empire.

There is a British cemetery in Buenos Aires, tea-houses with frightfully English sounding names and a now semi-derelict department store downtown called Harrods, which bears no relation to the Knightsbridge original.

Southampton - taught us everything we know.

Southampton - taught us everything we know.

The other great thing the British brought the Argentines was the railways. A stroll around the Retiro station in Buenos Aires reveals buffers cast in Ipswich, steel girders produced in Liverpool and clocks made in London, which stopped about the time Argentinos Juniors last won a trophy.

There are still quaint railway stations in the Buenos Aires suburbs which look like they’ve been plucked straight out of the Suffolk countryside. And place names such as Coghlan, Hurlingham, City Bell and Open Door, which are pronounced in strong Spanish accents, making them unintelligible to English speakers.

There is still a strong British influence in agriculture here but what caused and still causes the most discomfort for what’s left of the Anglo-Argentine community was the 1982 invasion of the Falkland or Malvinas Islands. In the aftermath of Argentina’s eventual defeat some of the Johns and Georges started calling themselves Juan and Jorge. The English tower, a major Buenos Aires landmark donated by the British government, was renamed.

But the British influence on the foundation of football in Argentina remains. Its initial introduction by the toffs was consolidated by the British railway workers who played during their breaks in front of their bemused Argentine colleagues. The first reported game of football in Argentina was between two teams of railway workers, the White Caps and the Red Caps. I don’t know the result. I imagine the local workers, many of them Spanish and Italian immigrants, then realised: “Hey, we can do that! And probably better than this bunch of muppets.”

The truth is it took the Argentines a while to get the hang of football. With their own clubs now up and running, they invited some of England’s finest over to demonstrate how the game should be played. First off the steamboat in 1904 was Southampton who played five games in Argentina and one in Uruguay, winning them all by the kind of scores the club could only dream about now. And most were in front of crowds of more than 10,000. They beat Combinados de Argentinos 8-0 and Belgrano Athletic 6-1.

A year later Nottingham Forest came with their baggy shorts and slicked-back hair to again give the local chaps a footballing lesson. They beat Belgrano 7-0 and la Liga Argentina 9-1. It’s remarkable, with hindsight, that the Argentines didn’t ditch football at that point in favour of something like water-polo or badminton.

From the days before lung cancer...

From the days before lung cancer...

Everton and Tottenham both arrived in 1909 and played each other in a couple of exhibition matches, before clocking up some more rugby scores against the best that Argentina and Uruguay had to offer.

But the real turning point came with the visit in 1912 of Swindon Town. A local journalist wrote: “Argentine fans will be able to applaud undoubtedly one of the best teams in the world.” Another said: “The arrival of the famous Swindon Town marks another era in the history of Association Football in the Argentine.”

The Robins won six and drew two in front of crowds of up to 20,000. But the local teams were no longer being embarrassed against “undoubtedly one of the best teams in the world” The stabilizers were off. Argentine football was flying.

English words and phrases such as ‘referee’, ‘corner’, ‘manager’,‘offside’ and ‘that was quite clearly handball you stupid bastard’ are still used in Argentine football. I made that last one up but you get the drift.

The ball was kicked back in the opposite direction after Argentina won the 1978 World Cup with the arrival at Tottenham of Ossie Ardiles and Ricardo Villa — pioneers of a trail followed by Alberto Tarantini, Julio Arca, Fabricio Coloccini, Javier Mascherano, Carlos Tevez and even Nestor Lorenzo, repaying Swindon Town for their early guidance.

Argentinos Juniors appear to have lost the art of winning, having drawn four and lost two of the last six. They took an early lead in this one when Gabriel Hauche was gifted the ball in the visitor’s penalty area. Arsenal then bungled a sackful of chances and the home side were lucky to go in at half-time with the lead. It was reversed in the second half with Argentinos playing the better football but fluffing one opportunity after another and then giving away a late goal.

It’s a case of Argentinos Juniors playing out the last four games of the season from a comfortable but none too inspiring spot in the middle of the table.  The race for the title is now between unfashionable but unbeaten Banfield, who are two points clear of Newell’s Old Boys. Neither of the big boys, Boca or River, are in the running.