23/09
2011

Argentinos Juniors  0  Tigre  1

I was the victim at the end of this game of verbal bullying by supporters of the Argentinos Juniors club president,  Luis Segura.

The team had just finished their first game under the new manager,  Nestor Gorosito. It was a dismal display. At least under his predecessor,  Pedro Troglio,  they tried to play football. They failed but at least they tried. This was a shambles that made a mediocre Tigre side look at times like Barcelona.

Angry Old Men

Usually new managers are given a grace or honeymoon period during which they have the opportunity to show what they can do. Gorosito,  who was a failure the last time he managed Argentinos Juniors in 2007-08,  was the target of fan abuse almost from the kick-off.

After the final whistle the fans around me turned to hurl insults at the president,  Luis Segura,  casting aspersions, in song,  about his mother’s profession. Several of his supporters shouted back. One of two of them jumped down from the safety of the seated area to remonstrate nose to nose with the protesters.

I took photos and one of Segura’s men challenged me. “I’m a tourist,”  I said. “But I’d like to know what authority you have to tell me whether or not I can take photos.” He insisted I put my camera away.

An English-speaking fan,  obviously concerned about my safety,  kindly advised me to do the same. “They’re Segura’s people,”  he explained. “It could get nasty.”

My confrontation came the same day that the government’s commerce secretary,  Guillermo Moreno,  requested a court order obliging newspapers to give up the names,  addresses and telephone numbers of any journalists who in the past six years have written anything that questions the government’s official inflation figures.

As a resident here I can tell you that the official inflation figures are as reliable as a Premiership manager announcing the day before an international friendly that his star player is injured.

The move is a blatant infringement of the freedom of the media and both the opposition and several international bodies have said so. I’m not suggesting for one moment that my little confrontation ranks as an attack on my liberty. But it does demonstrate a sensitivity to criticism by many in authority here.

One thing I must say however is that despite the nose-to-nose,  bulging eyeball nature of some of the arguments I saw,  there was no violence.

Gorosito. Unpopular choice...

I’ve no doubt that similar confrontations in Britain would have produced a fist fight. But Argentine men – for you rarely see women in these situations – seem to possess the admirable ability to pull away at the point when you feel violence must be inevitable.

I don’t find this a violent society but most porteños,  or Buenos Aires residents,  would disagree. They’d have you believe the city is a cross between Mogadishu and Baghdad.

It’s a question,  I guess,  of perception.  Buenos Aires has its share of violent,  drug-induced crime. Men beat their wives,  police have been known to hit their prisoners and newspapers carry regular tales of thieves opening fire on their victims. Of course,  it’s also got its dodgy neighbourhoods and places you’d be advised to avoid after dark.

But it’s no worse than many similar sized cities around the world and in many aspects a good deal better. I’d certainly rank it as generally safer than most of the other Latin American capitals I’ve been to.

I met a Glaswegian the other day who pretty much agreed with me. And he lives in the less than reputable La Boca neighbourhood where he comes and goes and is greeted by the locals. He admitted to not being a stereotypical Glaswegian hard man and was surprised when we suggested that with his bald head and confident manner,  the locals might be wary of him.

No Victory in Sight...

I don’t want to tempt fate but I’ve never had any problems in Buenos Aires either. I’ve never had to call on my judo yellow belt with two red stripes and would probably,  if I were cornered,  hand over my wallet to a gang of brownies wielding chocolate chip cookies.

I did,  in second year primary school,  lash out in a fit of panic when confronted by playground bully,  Tommy Ford,  and luckily caught him full in the solar plexus. He never touched me again. Neither did anyone else since the perception circulated that I was not to be messed with.

My ill-deserved reputation had waned when many years later I was confronted by knife-wielding muggers in Georgetown,  Guyana,  who ripped off my wedding ring and a small chunk of finger and emptied my pockets. “Tommy Ford!” I muttered. But it did no good.

There are several reasons that might explain why porteños believe they live in a city that is more dangerous than it is. The media for one carries a daily diet of crime stories that wouldn’t have made it into my former local newspaper,  the Hackney Gazette.

I had to stop reading the local rag since it unnerved me to know that the petrol station I’d filled my tank at was held up at gunpoint ten minutes after I’d been there or the bloke three behind me in the queue at the supermarket had stabbed the cashier in a row over the validity of a 30p off baked beans coupon.

Also,  those who have in this city tend to live very far from those who don’t have much. I’ve met plenty who never travel by public transport. They send their kids to well protected schools distant from the poorer neighbourhoods and have only a distorted notion of what goes on in those dark and undesirable communities.

Despite the minor challenge to my freedom to take photographs,  I’d still hold that most Argentine first division football stadiums are fairly safe places which I know is not a perception shared by many residents here.

Anyway,  enough waffling from me. Back to the full mid-week football programme. Boca consolidated their top spot with a 1-0 win over Estudiantes while Racing moved into second place with the same scoreline against Newell’s Old Boys.

There were 1-1 draws in the games between Banfield and Olimpo and Godoy Cruz and Union while the matches between Colon and San Martin and Belgrano and Lanus were both goalless. All Boys notched a rare win – 2-1 away at Arsenal while San Lorenzo also won 2-1 away,  at Velez. And Independiente improved enormously since I saw them last week to beat Rafaela 3-1 away.

So Argentinos Juniors still without a win after eight games and in crisis. Our next opponents? At home to top team Boca Juniors on Sunday.

 

Estudiantes  4  Argentinos Juniors  3

I did say last week that well into the twenty-first century no-one in the public eye should be allowed to sport a haircut like that displayed by the Argentinos Juniors manager,  Pedro Troglio. And so it has come to pass.

I guess poor results didn’t help either. This was the third game in a row in which the Bichos shipped four goals. So in a very dignified manner,  shortly after this defeat to bottom club Estudiantes in La Plata,  he closed his eyes,  held his nose between his forefinger and thumb and jumped off the plank.

I was not sorry to see him go since he’s not been able to mould a half-decent squad of players into a team. He seemed to find ways of suppressing their talent.

What does concern me is that the manager before last,  the man who took them to last place in the table in the 2009 Clausura season before going on to abject disaster at River Plate,  a man with an even worse unreformed nineteen-seventies mullet hairdo than Troglio – could it be they frequent the same barber? — is being talked about as the possible replacement.

Gorosito. Get yer haircut!

Please,  stay where you are,  Nestor Gorosito. Far more to my liking is the possibility that geriatric goalscorer,  Jose Luis Calderon,  who was wrenched from his rocking chair to lead the Bichos to Apertura 2010 championship glory,  will nibble at the insect being dangled before him.

I got to three stadiums this weekend but none of them were hosting the less than silky skills of Argentinos Juniors.

On Friday at the decidedly un-football friendly hour of five pm,  I hopped on a train to Retiro,  then ran the length of the Linea C underground line to Constitucion,  then took another train to Avellaneda to see Independiente host Colon.

This was the first game for the new Red Devil’s manager,  Ramón Díaz,  and it soon became apparent that he’s got a lot of work to do. Independiente were woeful and probably lucky to escape with a 1-0 defeat.

Their players showed occasional hints of talent but didn’t seem to connect to one another,  almost as though some were playing football while others were thinking basketball and volleyball.

A shame really because this is a club with a fine history and a pleasant ground which will be even better when it’s finished. I said that last time I visited nearly two years ago and it’s still not complete. Or are cement mixers and half-installed seats part of the design?

Independiente - be nice when it's finished.

The 5pm kickoff meant that supporters rushed to the ground straight from work – men in suits,  telephone engineers and cable TV installers with small boxes,  nurses with stethoscopes around their necks,  airline pilots with headphones on,  prison guards jangling keys. I’m getting carried away here but you get the picture.

Avellaneda is a whole different experience. I’d earlier been dining in Palermo Hollywood,  so-named for its preponderance of film studios. Palermo Hollywood is arty,  international and possibly even a little twee. Avellaneda is tenser,  dirtier and industrial. Some might just call it poorer.

A heavy cloud of marijuana hung in the air and many of those walking to the ground were gulping frothy liquids from plastic Coke bottles which didn’t look to me like it was anything you’d want your children to be drinking at their birthday party.

Argentinos Juniors’ arch rivals,  Platense, are currently lurking in the regional third division. My sons were playing handball there – an interesting game which seems to combine football and basketball. A-ha! Maybe that’s what Independiente were playing!

The odd thing about Platense is that they play in brown. It’s the team my wife’s family grew up with and in a none-too subtle attempt to endear myself to them,  I once took my kids there to see a game. “Shirts are like shit – they play like shit,” said my eldest son,  then a precocious but astute ten-year-old.

Flea on bass guitar...

We adopted Argentinos Juniors instead and now test our food before eating when we visit the in-laws. I’ve not spoken to the brother-in-law since.

And then to probably the best second division ground in the world – River Plate’s Monumental stadium. Again a strong strain of marijuana in the air but not a football in sight. River Plate were playing away,  struggling to a 0-0 draw against humble Deportivo Merlo.

The visitors were the Red Hot Chili Peppers,  completely dominating the goal furthest from us with a spectacular light show and Flea sublime on bass guitar.

The great thing about the Chili Peppers is that they’re my age yet they’re still hip and trendy among the youth of Buenos Aires. So I could take my boys,  aged 14 and 11,  without them living in fear of a class mate seeing them with me,  as long as I promised to subdue my shadow guitar playing and didn’t wear a leather waistcoat.

* Boca Juniors seem to have found their stride,  beating rivals Lanus 2-1 away to clinch the top spot. Atletico de Rafaela are breathing down their necks after an impressive 3-1 win at San Lorenzo. Belgrano beat fellow newcomers San Martin 1-0 at their place while Olimpo and Godoy Cruz and Tigre and Arsenal all drew 2-2.

Newell’s and Velez and Union and Racing all drew 1-1 but a special mention must go to Banfield who scored their first and only goal of the season to record their opening win – a 1-0 at All Boys. They’re still bottom of the pile but Argentinos Juniors are just a place above them,  now the only team in the division without a win after seven games.

Huracan  1  Argentinos Juniors   2

The main reason I adopted Argentinos Juniors as the team to write this blog about was that they were crap. I watched them a couple of times a year or so ago and thought their ramshackle ground, their tubby players and their comical goalkeeper would give me plenty of amusing anecdotes to string together.  Their manager had the kind of mullet hair arrangement that didn’t look good when it was fashionable in the nineteen-seventies, let alone on a fifty-something year old man in 2009. They finished last that season and for some reason Nestor Gorosito was poached by River Plate.

Gorosito and mullet

Gorosito and mullet

Claudio Borghi, who played for Argentinos Juniors during their glory period in the mid-eighties, was lured to the club and has turned a team on a par with Accrington Stanley into one that could hold its own against Chelsea.

They finished sixth last season, losing very few but drawing far too many. But this season, those draws turned into victories, the team never lost its shape or its desire to attack or its character. Borghi sat in his dug-out, rarely expressing any emotion. Argentine football fans all seem to agree that this team are worthy champions — for their stylish football, for their refusal to accept defeat and for their humility.

Humility is not a quality that comes easily to most Argentines. But with the brash arrogance of the big clubs, River Plate and Boca Juniors, and the brash stupidity of the likes of the Diego Maradona infecting the game here, the feet firmly on the ground approach of Claudio Borghi was exactly what was needed.

Nearly twelve thousand of us squidged into the Huracan stadium, a beautiful, nineteen-thirties style structure on the other side of town. It was a crisp, cold winter’s day and we were in fine voice. I’ve always found it a bit of challenge to understand all the lyrics of the Argentine football songs. I’ve got some of the key words but tend to adopt the same practise as when singing Auld Lang Syne at New Year – a lot of enthusiastic but unintelligible burbling.

Like a Huracan

Like a Huracan

So I had the bright idea of printing some songs off the internet and trying to learn them. But my memory is not what it was. I can’t, for instance, remember all eleven members of the 1980 West Ham FA Cup winning team. So I hide the lyrics inside the match magazine and take sneaky peaks when I falter.

There’s a lot of ‘nobody loves us but we don’t care’ attitude reflected in the lyrics, loyalty in the face of adversity and downright fatalism.

“The day I die, I want my coffin painted red and white like my heart,” sung to a jaunty tune is one of my favourites.

Argentinos Junior’s big rivals, the brown and white-shirted Platense, are nicknamed the calamares or squid and feature a fair amount in the lyrics.

“I don’t care what they say, the squid whores, the journalists, the police – wherever you go, your fans will always be with you, breathing life with lots of alcohol and marijuana.”

Squid whores!!! Try that one as an insult the next time you get really angry and see where it gets you.

The anti-squid taunting has lost a little of its potency since, while Argentinos Juniors bathed themselves in glory, Platense were tumbling into third division obscurity.

“Reds – my great friend, this season we’re back again with you. We’ll support you with our hearts, we’re your fans and want you to be champions.”

Reasons to be Cheerful

Reasons to be Cheerful

And champions we are. Argentinos started brightly against Huracan and mounted several attacks that came to nothing before Juan Mercier got his bald head to a cross and tucked it into the net. This was a game the Red Bugs had to win to clinch the title since Estudiantes, just a point behind, were wiping the floor with Colon up in the north-east of Argentina.

But we were made to sweat. Facundo Coria put us two up ten minutes from the end by tapping in a rebound after Ismael Sosa had blasted against the post. Then three minutes from the end, Alan Sanchez pulled one back for Huracan and we were subjected to several  of those elongated minutes that leave you biting nails, clenching buttocks and glancing at your watch every ten seconds. And in situations like these, the referee will always add about a year of extra time.

With the Huracan fans setting fire to their own stadium, the referee cut short the added time and the celebrations began.

“C’mon Red Bugs, C’mon, Put your balls in place and let’s win this one, we’ll keep on da da de da da, we’ll be champions and not de do du da da, Come on Bugs.”

That might have lost a little something in translation but the spirit, I think, is clear. Argentinos Juniors are champions of Argentina for the first time in twenty five years. I certainly know how to pick a loser!