Standing on seats, singing in bathrooms: How Argentine soccer ‘craziness’ overtook the Club World Cup

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MIAMI GARDENS, Fla. — They sang at Walmart and at urinals, on Miami Beach and in the Atlantic Ocean, on the streets of South Florida and en route to Monday’s fiesta. They are fans of Boca Juniors, Argentina’s biggest soccer club, and they came from near and far to spice up the Club World Cup with a zeal that Hard Rock Stadium’s wide-eyed ushers and vendors had never seen before. They sang and sang, bounced and bellowed, in a way that no American football or basketball fan ever has, until, in the 84th minute of a chaotic match against Benfica, they sunk and went nearly silent.

And for minutes, some simply stood there, stunned, almost stricken.

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Because their team had just blown a two-goal lead, but no, it wasn’t just that; they’d conceded the equalizer to their absolute least favorite person of the 55,000 in the building: Benfica defender — and known River Plate fan — Nicolas Otamendi.

They had cheered and chanted with all their might for over two hours. They’d unleashed two primal roars. They brought the madness of the world’s most soccer-mad country to this sometimes-sleepy tournament, and when they led 2-0 or 2-1, that was the story.

Then, Otamendi, a 37-year-old from Buenos Aires, introduced an incredible plot twist. He knifed in between two Boca defenders, powered a header past a helpless goalkeeper, and brought the world’s most intense soccer rivalry to the tournament as well.

Otamendi grew up screaming and suffering and celebrating with the club on the other side of Argentina’s Superclásico. “My family supports River, and everyone at home is very passionate about the club,” he confirmed last year.

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So, when he strutted out of a stadium tunnel here on Monday for pregame intros, as Benfica’s captain, thousands of Boca fans let out a piercing, ear-splitting, hate-filled whistle.

It told of tribal fandom that is foreign to American sports, fandom that you have to feel and hear and see to really comprehend.

It lives in Buenos Aires, and throughout Argentina. But it travels the world — and even has a second home in South Florida. On a few-block stretch of Collins Ave. in a North Beach enclave called LIttle Buenos Aires, at restaurants like Banchero or Manolo, some of the roughly 70,000 Argentines in Florida gather regularly for Boca. They don blue-and-yellow jerseys, and chow on milanesas, and feel connected to home.

Never, though, had Boca come to them for a match that meant something. The Club World Cup brought the Xeneize (the team’s nickname) to America, and became an unmissable opportunity to turn Hard Rock Stadium into a slightly more civilized version of Boca’s famous stadium, La Bombonera.

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But only slightly. As the game began, shirts came off and began twirling in the air. And when the two Boca goals went in, beer and popcorn soared.

Thousands who’d traveled from Argentina joined locals in renditions of all their favorite songs. They sang about how they adore the club. “Boca, mi buen amigo,” they chanted in Spanish. “I don’t care what anybody says. I follow you everywhere. And every time I love you more.”

They sang about how, “today, we have to win.”

They pulsed their arms, and bounded up and down, and hopped side to side, all in unison.

They thrust their torsos forward, yelled with the intensity of a fitness coach or combative midfielder, and lived up to their name: “La 12,” the 12th player.

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And down below, when two of the actual 11 crunched Angel Di Maria — another Argentine legend playing for Benfica — with a tough tackle, the fans exploded, with more verve than would ever greet any NFL touchdown.

They were relentless, and the players heard them.

“Una locura,” Rodrigo Battaglia said postgame.

“Una locura,” Alan Velasco repeated.

“Una locura,” Tomás Belmonte said.

“Craziness.” They shook their heads.

But did it surprise them? “Me? Surprised by the Boca fans? No,” head coach Miguel Ángel Russo said, as if it were an absurd suggestion. “That’s how they are.”

They spent the entire game standing — except for one mother cradling a baby; she needed to sit. By the second half, in several sections behind one goal, they were not only standing, but standing on their seats. Some climbed up to armrests or seatbacks. One summited the railing in an aisle — and still bobbed up and down, singing rhythmically.

Eventually, two security guards made their way through the aisle and went row by row, telling everyone to “get down,” which most did — but not happily. This is what they do in Argentina, I tried to explain to the security guard. “Can’t do that s*** here,” he responded.

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Most stadium personnel, however, were primarily amazed by a passion unlike any they’d ever experienced.

As it so often does, it seeped into the soccer, down onto the field, where there were sideline kerfuffles and three red cards.

It hummed, and swayed, and filled the concourses, and even rang out of a men’s bathroom.

As is the custom, it continued, and even crescendoed, after Di Maria scored Benfica’s first goal from the penalty spot. (Because conceded goals are not a time for dejection, they’re a time for encouragement.)

But then, after 84 minutes, it took the ultimate gut punch, and it froze.

Otamendi scored, and punched the air, and then just looked up at the thousands of Boca fans he’d deflated.

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Referees stepped between him and a few Boca players, who seemed like they might confront their rival — a rival in more ways than one.

Otamendi, speaking a couple hours later, downplayed the significance, but, “well, everyone knows I’m a River fan,” he said.

He had added a cruel exclamation point to a frenzied night that ended in a 2-2 draw, and helped bring the Club World Cup to life.

This news was originally published on this post .

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