Road trip #2

Our second road trip was much more important than the last one. This game was the final game of the season for the oldest Barcelona team. The boys are playing in the Men's 3rd division. This game would decide the league champion and a place in the promotion tournament. Promoting to the 2nd division has tremendous worth to a club.

Today's opponents were the "Camioneros" basically the team of the truckers union. Their union is the most powerful here and they have great pride in their team. As we waited in the dressing room we could hear the arrival of the home fans. It started as a dull thumping but as the buses came closer the beating of drums and the singing fans became so loud it was hard to think of anything else.

It was time to take the field, as we ran through the gates into the field, we could see what was waiting for us. The stands were full of chanting fans expressing their "fondness" for us. To this point I have been a spectator listening to the fans taunt each other from across the field. Today there were no fans for us. Being that the team plays for CEFAR and not a club there is no history or fan base. For the first time I could feel the energy directed towards me, I was on the bench and the fans were gesturing to us directly. I did not think any of them knew me but they seemed to talk about my mother a lot!

The field was directly under the highway, every truck that passed over would pull their air horns in support of the other team. You could smell the rockets and fire crackers from across the field. It was impressive. The coaches would try to yell out to the players but no one beyond the sideline could hear them. The crowd was trying to intimidate us and I think it was working.

For a moment the noise subsided. The game held and we waited for something. I could see an old man walking slowly with security. He was coming towards our bench, it was the father of Maradona and his brother. Jorge had played in Boca with both Maradonas so they greeted us and shook hands. The crowd seemed humbled by their presence. They were escorted to a private viewing area behind or bench. Once they acknowledged the crowd the singing began again.

The game was fast and intense with fierce tackling. Our boys were struggling with the experience of the men and the overwhelming crowd. We had to win in order to advance, a tie would see them through. We failed to score numerous chances and were caught on the counter-attack. The stadium went crazy. We were crushed. The minutes ticked away and the final whistle brought about an amazing celebration.

We headed for the corridor that lead to our dressing room. The fans were going crazy, climbing the fences and getting closer to us. Before long security was no longer able to hold them back. They ran on to the field and surrounded their team in celebration. They began to pull at the jerseys of all the players eventually taking their shirts and their shorts too! It was something that I have seen on the old films of Pele when the fans took all of his clothes after Brazil won the World Cup.

Myself and one other player got separated from the team. Fans were around us grabbing at me. I was wearing a green pinnie while on the bench like one of the subs because I did not have papers to permit me to be there. The other team wore green and white and this particular drunken fan thought I was a Camionero. I was holding my camera under my pinnie and was not going to let him see it. I fought with one hand and tried to explain that I was the other team. He did not believe me in spanish so I used english. I yelled at him in english and it seemed to stun him. I broke free and ran for the gates. Security was coming back for me and escorted me to our room. We closed the doors and listened to the fans surround the building.

Jorge looked at me and asked "where did you go?" I explained what happened and together we shared a hug and a laugh. We stood together and in a quiet voice he said "maybe good we did not win" The crowd was going crazy and they were happy, imagine if they were mad...