In Argentina they say you learn to kick a ball as soon as you can stand, probably before you can even talk. Sport, particularly rugby, is Argentina’s pride and joy. The Argentinian’s passion- their life- is football.
Mark and I arrived in Buenos Aires on the 29th of September, somewhat strategically, as we hoped to get tickets for the All Blacks vs Pumas rugby game at La Plata stadium, an hour out of Buenos Aires.
It was an important game, Mark informed me, if New Zealand won then we had won a championship and Argentina had never beaten the All Blacks before. We prayed we hadn’t come all that way to be there for one they did lose.
As it turned out, we needn’t have worried about losing, but perhaps should have been more concerned about the effect the Puma’s loss would have on the Argentinians sense of comaderie to the two Kiwis on their turf.
Argentina scored the first try and the effect was pandemonium. It was as if each of them had just been told they’d inherited one million dollars each. Total hysteria. Stomping, screaming, whistling, cat calling. An impending sense of, if you’re not careful, you’ll get trampled.
It was exciting.
The mood soon soured as the All Blacks scored try after try. Hissing and jeering ensued. But the scariest part was always the silence. The look on the Argentine’s faces, the fans who seemed to have staked their lives on the outcome.
In the end, we won. We walked safely back to our bus but later heard other Kiwis had subscribed to police protection. Just in case.
Mark observed that maybe, had it been a different opposing team, and the Pumas had won, he might have enjoyed it that much more. Because the passion etched on the Argentine’s faces is something to see.
If you can’t make it to a live match, get advice on a good local sports bar, or restaurant with a television. Pick a night of an important match. Go, order some food, watch. You’ll see what I mean.
Pre game, a little Mexican wave going on
Mark, and yes, me! I’ve wrapped myself in an All Black’s flag
Photo courtesy of Mark
