Image - Monumental Stadium, Buenos Aires, Argentina.

I had a fun Saturday evening going to the Argentina - Colombia soccer match here in Buenos Aires. It all started mid-week, last week. I was invited to a cookout here in the boat yard by Juan Silva, who has a paint and varnish service company here at the yacht club.

The conversation was about futbol, and the upcoming game. The national team was playing in an elimination game against Colombia to qualify for the 2010 World Cup in South Africa. The Argentina team, as with all the other countries' teams, is composed of players from local clubs as well as any Argentine players abroad. It can be quite a chore for players on teams in Europe to fly back and forth to practice and participate in these games.

Juan asked me who I would be rooting for in the upcoming game. I knew enough about soccer in South America to know how seriously they take it, so I said, in Spanish "Argentina, of course, do you think I am stupid?" While I made a show of counting all the men sitting around the BBQ. More soccer talk and then I finally asked Juan, can we get tickets? He went into a long drabble in Spanish and from what I could gather he knows a guy, who used to date the sister of a guy, who might know a guy who, who mows the lawn of a guy who sometimes can get a few tickets. I said. "Great, let's try," and he went to work on it.

Saturday, Juan and I meet with tickets in hand, and head for the game. We take the train and walk about ten blocks to the River Plat Stadium. There is a lot of people making this same walk and you can start to feel the excitement. The stadium is huge, seating over 70,000. We find our seats in the end zone, and wait for the match to begin.

I am amazed at the security. We were patted down twice upon entry, and there is a ten foot tall chain link fence with barbed wire across the top that surrounds the end zone seating area. More barbed wire between the field and the seating all around. On the field I see police in bright green overcoats about every thirty feet surrounding the field, squads of more police in full riot gear, three 90 pound German Shepard's with handlers, and police at all the ramps to the seating throughout the stadium. There is also a police helicopter hovering over the stadium. And this is only a qualifying match!

About half an hour before the start, the Argentina National Team, surrounded by more security, comes out just below us in their dark blue warm, ups and the crowd stands and starts chanting "Argentina, Argentina, Argentina!" Near the rear of the team walking out on the field is the head coach, no other than Diego Maradona, regarded as the best soccer player in the world during the late 80s and 90s. Now the crowd starts chanting. "Maradona, Maradona, Maradona," they love him here. I had just finished reading his biography, and his life is very interesting. As a player, he led Argentina to two World Cup victories.

When the Colombian team enters the field the crown again stands and starts to whistle, which is equilivant to a boo. The Colombian fans are all seated together opposite the field from where we are sitting. Like our seating area, it is enclosed in barbed wire across the front where the section faces the field, as well as on each end separating the entire section for the rest of the stadium. There are riot police lines up at each end of the section, all in bright orange vests. After about ten minutes of warm up the teams leave the field.

The three referees are walked out under police escort and introduced to the crowd. I guess the police escort is in case someone tries to run the gauntlet to get to them. More whistles to add to the lack of affection for the referees.

No beer or alcoholic drinks of any sort is sold at the game. Concessions include chori-pan (a piece of sausage in a bread roll), hamburgers, and coke. Not much else, and the stadium is pretty much concrete and barbed wire, with old wooden bench seats. None of the glamour of US stadiums, just a place to play, a place to sit, and barbed wire to keep the crowd under control.

Argentina is now back out on the field in their home colors. Light blue and white vertical striped jerseys with black shorts and white stockings. They look very smart under the illumination of the stadium lights. The crowd has been standing the whole time singing along with the public address system which has been playing various national songs. When Colombia enters the field, in yellow jerseys, blue shorts, and red stockings, the whistling returns along with other chants. When they play the national song of Colombia the crowd respectfully culls the boos until it is over. To fight back, the Colombia section starts to chant "Bolivia, Bolivia, Bolivia,' rubbing salt into the wound of Argentina's previous weeks lost of 6-1. The largest margin in 60 years.

Once play started, the crowd continued the chanting with "ole, - ole, ole, ole," and other familiar songs. When a referee would make an unfair call, or pull a card on an Argentina player, the crowd would change to "puta madre" and "hijo de puta."

After the first 45 minute period, there is no half time show, no band, in fact nothing at all. Mid-way in the second period, Argentina finally scores, and the crowd goes crazy. We were up and singing for a good five minutes before play continued. My friend Juan, has made a few calls to his friends telling them he is at the game with a gringo. We are both enjoying ourselves, and observing some world class play.

With ten minutes to play, the public address system, which has been quiet for the duration of the game since the introductions of the teams, now asks that all Colombian fans remain seated until all the Argentina fans have left the stadium. This must be to avoid fighting in the streets afterward. The police helicopter has now returned to its hover over the stadium.

As soon as the game is over the referees are rushed off the field, while the players shake hands under the watchful eye of the security forces. All in all I never felt uncomfortable. When departing the crowd does push its way out and you can see how easy it would be to be trampled and crushed. I am lucky with my 6'3"frame, I never lost sight of Juan Silva, and we were never separated. Argentina advances to play again with its 1-0 victory over Colombia. Ole- ole, ole, ole!