Tigre  1  Argentinos Juniors  1

The season kind of fizzled out to a damp end for Argentinos Juniors. But after the unexpected joy of being crowned champions at this stage of last season, I guess this one was always going to be a bit of an anti-climax.

This match at mediocre, mid-table Tigre typified our season. Thanks to the thoughtful industry of Nestor Ortigoza and Juan Mercier, Argentinos Juniors dominated the midfield but their good work, as throughout much of season, usually came to nothing because of the dearth of ideas and options in attack.

Reasons to be Thoughtful

Reasons to be Thoughtful

We were unlucky to go behind in the dying seconds of first half injury time when the referee awarded what was quite clearly not a penalty to Tigre. He was so far from the action that carrier pigeons might have been a better way of relaying to him what was happening in the penalty area than his own eyes.

The Red Bugs came out after the break with all guns blazing and after seventeen minutes Ciro Ruis headed home a well-deserved equaliser. Then they blew and they blew but they couldn’t blow that Tigre house down and 1-1 it finished.

I’m hopeful for next season, but only if the manager, Pedro Troglio, can hide Ortigoza and Merciers’ car keys and burn their passports. I’d also throw goalkeeper, Nico Navarro, into that pot since it’s around these three that a decent team can be built.

They’ve also got a couple of nifty little guys, Hobbits, in Franco Niell and Dario Ocampo, who are great on the ball but sometimes get lost in the long grass.

I saw the top two teams meet in a dull 0-0 earlier in the season. It was a match so boring and so bereft of fundamental footballing skills that, if I’d had wool and a couple of needles with me, I’d have taken up knitting.

Time to rest - and replenish paper stocks

Time to rest - and replenish paper stocks

It just goes to show that there’s not a huge gap in quality between the twenty teams in the top division. One or two players and a manager who can tell a decent midfielder from a field of corn can make all the difference. The other big factor is having a club administration that is not riddled with corruption, idiocy and general uselessness – and there ain’t many of those in the Argentine league.

Pedro Troglio replaced our championship winning manager, Claudio Borghi, at the beginning of the season. And while he didn’t exactly have to re-build from scratch, he did have to impose his style of play on a squad depleted by a number of departures from the 2010 Clausura.

The start of the season was a disaster with the first victory not celebrated until game eight against Banfield.

There was that delightful three-game winning streak, including the 2-0 thumping of Boca Juniors at their place, in the middle of the season. Boca only finished one place above Argentinos Juniors and fizzled out their season with a 1-1 home draw against dire Gimnasia. Their predicament will no doubt be clouded by the euphoria provoked by Martin Palermo scoring his 300th goal for the club. I suspect much of their hope for next season will rest on the shoulders of the old war horse and his fellow geriatric, the most miserable man in football, Juan Roman Riquelme.

See You Next Season

See You Next Season

River Plate could be back on form. They bowed out in style with a string of wins, culminating in 4-1 thumping of Lanus and look to have secured the services of the manager who made that possible, JJ Lopez.

Newly promoted Olimpo and Quilmes are newly relegated. While Gimnasia and Huracan must battle it out with the teams finishing third and fourth in the division below them to retain their places alongside the elite.

As the champions before last, Argentinos Juniors, along with Estudiantes, Godoy Cruz and Velez Sarsfield, will be playing international football next season, in the Libertadores Cup. Independiente, who finished last, will join them since they won the regional trophy that only the winners take much notice of, the South American  Cup.

So it’s football from a distance for me for a few weeks. I’ll be watching the Premiership from my living room with the windows open, the fan whirring and a cold drink at hand, laughing uproariously at the bizarre but no doubt effective woollen clothing items that European fans don to survive sub-zero temperatures.

Hasta la vista, babies!

19/05
2010

After strong complaints from bus passengers and members of my family, I’ve put the Argentinos Juniors shirt I was wearing at Sunday’s championship-clinching game in the wash. It’s a symbolic sign that the season is well and truly over and the time for reflection is upon us.

Much has been written about this Clausura 2010 championship since pretty much every Argentine is a football expert and some of the lucky ones even manage to earn a living by adding a tinge of authority to their rantings and ravings.

The Moment

The Moment

Nearly all seem to agree that the Red Bugs were worthy winners – not for their money because they ain’t got much, not for their sturdy defence for they shipped a fair few and not for their power and influence in the Argentine game since this is a small neighbourhood club with a ramshackle but often intimidating ground.

The word I’ve seen more than any other is ‘dignified.’ They were dignified champions who brought dignity to the Argentine league.

The manager, Claudio Borghi, brought together a collection of strong personalities and melded them into a team. It was a team in which the first priority was always to play attractive, attacking football. They held their shape, the midfield created options and, what always struck me, was that the whole team seemed to be enjoying themselves.

The player who perhaps best symbolises this team is 39-year-old Jose Luis Calderon. A fine physical specimen, he ran as much as the youngsters. “With his experience, he calmed us in moments of madness,” said teammate, Nicolas Pavlovich.

Borghi brought him out of retirement, convinced he still had much to give. Calderon played seven-hundred and forty-three games in his long career, after making his debut for Estudiantes in 1992. He played for Napoli in Italy, America and Atlas in Mexico, won the Argentine league and the Libertadores cup with Estudiantes and the Copa Sudamericana with Arsenal.

Borghi substituted him ten minutes before the end of the Huracan game and the crowd erupted. His teammates crowded around him and tears were no doubt shed. “It was a dignified way to end my career,” said Mr Calderon.

But he wasn’t alone. There was also that magical midfield partnership between Nestor Ortigoza and Juan Mercier. “It’s like a marriage,” they said. I think I know what they meant but I’d rather not pry into their private lives.

In attack, there was Ismael Sosa, uncomfortable at Independiente, he was borrowed by Borghi who knew how to bring out the best in him. He’s fast, wears bright yellow boots and was the club’s top scorer with nine goals.

The names will be remembered by the young Argentinos Juniors fans when they’re in their nineties and have forgotten where they left their false teeth. The slightly eccentric goalkeeper, Nicolas Peric, that defensive rock, Matias Caruzzo, the tireless running of Gustavo Oberman and the personality of Ignacio Canuto.

And then, of course, the man at the helm – Claudio ‘Bichi’ Borghi – a fine player in his day and Argentinos Juniors lynchpin the last time they won the championship twenty-five years ago. Whether the team was winning or losing, playing well or not, he sat like a frozen Buddha in his dugout, calm, collected and confident that the team was on the right track and that eventually they’d win through. They usually did, losing only two games all season and often leaving it until the final five minutes to plop the ball in the net.

So a great team but a one off, frozen in time. No sooner had those millions of scraps of paper thrown by the fans washed into the gutter to block the drains the next time it rains, than the talk of dismantling had begun.

Borghi is hot favourite to take over at slumbering giants, Boca Juniors. The thinking is: “If he can produce a championship-winning team with everyone else’s flotsam and jetsam, just think what he’ll do with Boca’s money and influence!” Mercier and Caruzzo may well follow him.

The Celebration

The Celebration

Now that Independiente know what Sosa can do, they’ll want him back and I doubt they’ll even say ‘thank-you.’ Calderon has already swapped his boots for carpet slippers and Ortigoza – my own favourite – would grace any team in the world with his effective tackling, pinpoint passing and inability to give up.

So what now? Well, let’s enjoy the moment for a little longer. The rump of a good team remains and the spirit and tradition are still there. So much depends on who takes over from Borghi and how many players the club manages to hold onto. They will be playing in the Sudamericana and the Libertadores cups which should bring in cash to bolster the squad.

And Argentinos Juniors is not known as the seedbed of Argentine football for nothing. A healthy crop of youngsters is sprouting up through the ranks and there’s hope that we won’t have to wait another twenty-five years to reap a harvest like this one.

I’m off now to do a bit of research, scouting the backstreets and alleyways of Buenos Aires for the best bars and cafes in which to watch the World Cup. I may be gone for some time.

Argentinos Juniors  3  Gimnasia y Esgrima de la Plata  1

My voice is a little hoarse from all the shouting at this afternoon’s game so you’ll have lean closer to the screen. The Red Bugs were back on form and, but for a nimble visiting goalkeeper, would have won this game 6-1.

Nestor Ortigoza doesn’t miss from the penalty spot and put Argentinos Juniors on their way after Ismael Sosa was brought down in the area. Gimnasia, a big club with relegation worries, equalised in the second half but the home side, with fine goals from Sosa and Santiago Raymonda, clinched it to leave us in second place, just a point behind the leaders, Estudiantes, with three games to play.

World Cup fever is beginning to bite here in Buenos Aires and the reason I can tell is that twelve-year-old boys are huddled in groups swapping their World Cup stickers.

“I’ve got three Stephane Grichtings of Switzerland – I’ll swap you one for Australia’s Luke Wilkshire.” At no other time are players so obscure held in such high esteem across the world.

At the moment, we’ve only got one Mexican but a glut of Cristiano Ronaldos. He’s worth nothing. What we need are more North Koreans. Kim Kum-Il would do or a Pak Nam-Chol. We’ll give you a Dirk Kuyt in exchange. He’s easy.

Got Beckham

Got Beckham

I’ve long wondered whether David Beckham collects stickers of himself. He must be tempted, surely? “Ooh look,” he says, opening his packets over the breakfast table. “I’ve got me – again. I’ll give Giggsy a ring and see if he wants to swap me for Diego Forlan.”

“No you don’t,” shrieks Posh. “You’re keeping it. I want to stick you on the wall above my bed.”

“No,” scream the kids. “Beckhams are easy. Everyone’s got them. We want Carlos Costly of Honduras, number 618. He’s much better. Or Slovenia’s Nejc Pecnik. He’s worth three Beckhams.”

Closer to the World Cup, when our album is a little fuller, we’ll head to the Parque Centenario where boys and girls and those with them, otherwise known as ‘grown men who collect football stickers but pretend it’s their kids that are doing it because they’re too embarrassed to admit it,’ gather to trade.

We were there in 2006 when the scene at times resembled the floor of the Buenos Aires stock market just before one of the country’s many economic crashes.

Rumours were flashing around that the lad in the blue coat had a bucketful of spare Junichi Inamotos of Japan and West Bromwich Albion but he only needed a couple of Serb defenders to complete his album. Five-year-olds know that a hard-to-come-by Jermaine Defoe will fetch five easy to obtain Paraguayans. The rules of supply and demand are practised here in their most naked form.

This being Latin America, speculators have moved in. Men in dirty raincoats who have never really learned to shave properly, lurk on the outskirts of the park. They know the cash value of an Edison Cavani of Uruguay sticker. They know who’s rare and whether there’s a glut of Yacine Bezzaz’s of Algeria.

“Psst! I’ve got Chileans,” they’ll hiss through yellow teeth. “And the New Zealand goalkeeper.”

Do these guys have relations working at the sticker distribution plant? I don’t know, but you can guarantee that whenever and wherever there’s a demand, these fellows will come crawling out of the drains. They’re probably the same people who, within minutes of the first raindrop falling, are on every street corner selling umbrellas or before every Argentina game are at the traffic lights flogging sky-blue and white hats, shirts and horns.

I might see if they can come up with the Gerd Muller I need to complete my 1974 collection. And c’mon guys! Who’s hoarding all the Mexicans?

I don't know what this means.

I don't know what this means. Pic by Lucas

We’ve already got Martin Palermo of Argentina and Boca Juniors and so, probably, has his Boca teammate, Juan Roman Riquelme – pinned to his darts board. For the two men, who form the backbone of the Boca team, hate one another with a passion. Their petty squabbling may go a large way to explaining why this usually regal beauty of Argentine football looks at the moment like an overweight tart cadging smokes at her local pub on a Saturday night.

Normally, you’d expect their great city rival, River Plate, to be gloating over this demise. But  they too are slumped near the foot of the table with their own fishnet stockings torn and lipstick smudged across their pudgy cheeks.

Martin Palermo is all blood, guts and passion. He puts his life on the line in every game and even when he’s not wearing a head bandage seeping blood, you feel as though he should be.

Riquelme is a tortured soul, intelligent, independent and some say, just plain weird. The Boca fans are split on whether he’s good for the team. There are those who say he’s one of the best playmakers the club has ever had. Others complain he doesn’t run enough and sows discontent in the dressing room.

He supplied the pass in a recent match that enabled Martin Palermo to score his 219th Boca Juniors goal – a club record. But rather than join in the back-slapping and buttock groping, or whatever it is they get up to in those celebratory rucks, Juan Roman sauntered off in the other direction to file his nails, his nose stuck snootily in the air.

Claudio Borghi

Claudio 'Bichi' Borghi

Palermo accused Riquelme of a whole host of things from not passing the ball to him enough to saying nasty things about him behind his back to borrowing his soap without asking. Riquelme responded and the club authorities had to ask them to tone it down. It seems to have worked since Riquelme supplied the pass that enabled Palermo to score in today’s 2-0 victory over San Lorenzo and the two men then hugged, kissed and danced the tango together.

What concerns me most about all this turmoil at Boca is that rumours have begun circulating that they’re keen to poach the Argentinos Juniors manager, Claudio ‘Bichi’ Borghi. He’s done fine things in a very short with limited resources at this modest little club. What might he do, so the thinking goes, to revitalise a slumbering giant like Boca Juniors?

Don’t go Borghi! We wouldn’t swap you for a whole team of Mexican stickers, even with a Carlos Costly and the North Korean badge thrown in for good measure.