Fútbol not Football

“Ramie, are you going to the game tonight?”

“…what game?”

“The Nacional vs Medellin game. It’s a huge rivalry match.”

“Sounds cool, I’m in.”

“Awesome! Don’t wear green…or red…or a belt”

That’s the conversation that took place before I went to see my first Colombian soccer match. I couldn’t wear green because that’s the color of Nacional and we were going to be in the (red) Medellin fan section. I wasn’t supposed to wear red either because after the game members of the other team’s supporters often jump people if they see you wearing the wrong color. The wearing neutral colors made sense to me, but I was confused about the belt restriction. When I asked why I couldn’t wear a belt my friends laughed nervously and winced, revealing that too many people were using belts as weapons for strangling people so they weren’t allowed in the stadium. What was getting myself into?

My apartment is just a few blocks from the stadium, and for months I’d seen just how ridiculous the soccer scene is. Generally I find out that there’s a game because the police presence around my house is 100 times more intense that day. On game days cops in riot gear patrol the neighborhoods on foot, on motorcycles or in armored cars that put the Bat Mobile to shame. I’ve never seen a reason to have so many swat units, but clearly this show of force is there because of past incidents. A Penn student from Medellin actually wrote her thesis on crazy fan bases in Colombian soccer, and apparently Medellin is one of the few remaining cities not only in Latin America, but the world, where hooliganism still thrives.

Maybe for some people an army of robo-cops and internationally recognized crazy fans might deter them from going, but I couldn’t miss the opportunity to experience such cultural craziness with my own eyes. So I threw on a white t-shirt, took off my belt and headed out the door.

I met up with my friend Britta, a teacher at the international school, who introduced me to a group of Colombians dressed head to toe in red, chugging aguardiente and beers. As the only guy not wearing red, accompanied by Britta who is about my height and blond, it was pretty apparent that we were outsiders, but the Colombians instantly adopted us into the group as their own. To them, we became “los gringos del rojo”.

We bought tickets from a scalper and walked towards the stadium. Someone handed me a warm beer and said, in as friendly a way as possible when demanding someone drinks, to finish it before we crossed the first security checkpoint. Done, now what? I got patted down by a cop in riot gear and headed towards the next security point. Another person handed me a somehow even warmer beer (did they microwave those things?!) and I downed it in the line before finally entering the stadium grounds.

There were separate lines for women and men, so the few girls in the group entered immediately to get seats. I hung back with the guys and queued up for about thirty minutes and took the opportunity to get some info about the game I was about to see.

Question 1: Why do I only see people in red aka Medellin fans?

Answer: They no longer allow fans of both teams into the stadium at the same time because there were too many fights/murders. Medellin fans would be viewing this game, and Nacional fans would go to see the 2^nd game in the series on Sunday.

(I made a comment like, “oh, that’s good that they don’t let both groups in” and the guys unanimously disagreed with me. They were looking forward to the new Mayor’s proposal to allow both fans into the stadium at the same time again. “More exciting” they drunkenly declared)

Question 2: Which team is better, Medellin or Nacional?

Answer: Even die-hard fans of Medellin couldn’t deny that Nacional is better – they are the Yankees of Colombian soccer. Nacional has won more championships than any other team in the league and has a huge following throughout the country. Medellin, despite its name, has fewer fans in the city and is known as the “equipo del pueblo”, the “town team”. Although confident, the guys were preparing for the worst because apparently Medellin is notorious for losing important games in the last minute and breaking the heart of the fans. I won major respect when I told them about the Red Sox history of going 86 years without a world series. Also, Sox colors are the same as Medellin colors, so I definitely converted a few Colombians to Red Sox Nation.

Question 3: What’s one of the cheers to support Medellin?

Answer: “A esos putos les tenemos que ganar”

Rough translation: “We have to beat these fuckers!” …Like most things it sounds better chanted in Spanish, I swear.

The Q&A ended as I finally got patted down for the 4^th time by security (had to quadruple check I wasn’t wearing a belt I suppose) and entered the stadium where 40,000 other fans were already losing their minds, jumping up and down and screaming chants that were even more vulgar than the one I learned a minute earlier. We found the girls and stood in the aisle since the fan section was already overflowing with too many people going nuts.

Here’s a compilation of videos that I took throughout the night to give you a small taste of the madness:

And all of those videos are before the game actually started

There were some pretty awesome traditions. The fans held up colored paper to spell words taunting the other team and showing the face of the Joker…for some reason that no one could explain to me. Later, before the 2^nd half started, a bunch of white streamers were handed out to the crowd to unfurl and hurl. While it was undoubtedly cool to see the fans “making it snow”, the streamers are a horrible idea. For one thing, they float onto the field and affect the game since there isn’t enough time to clean them off the pitch so the players are constantly kicking them away in annoyance. Even more of an obstruction to the game is that half of the fans choose to wait for a corner kick by the opposing team and then chuck the unfurled streamers (that are hard as rocks) and try to injure the player. The hailstorm of streamers generally continues until the home team runs over to protect the other team and begs the fans to stop.

With all the fireworks and jumping up and down chanting the actual soccer game seemed secondary to me. In the 2^nd half Medellin scored on a nice through ball and the stadium rightfully lost its collective mind. Standing in the aisle we were all pushed down by the surge of people who just launched themselves forward in excitement. The game ended 1-0 and we all surged out of the stadium riding high on the victory. What followed was a lot of heavy drinking, chanting and shit-talking Nacional.

That Sunday it was the rematch and it was the turn for the Nacional fans to take over the stadium so Britta and I headed to the house of one of our new friends to watch the deciding match on TV. They carried the TV out onto the street, and set it up so fans from the whole neighborhood could watch. Just as they had feared, Medellin was poised to go to the championship but Nacional scored twice and won the game, breaking the heart every Medellin fan.

Watching the game on the street — hopes about to be crushed by Medellin losing

I felt especially bad for the Medellin fans because the TV was outside so they had to sit there as Nacional fans drove by on motorbikes honking horns and waving flags to taunt them. I would see a similar scene a week later when Nacional went on to win the championship in penalty kicks. (Coincidentally that was the same night of the Miss Colombia fiasco in which Steve Harvey announced the wrong winner. I’m sure all the rioting and fireworks was about the soccer championship, but I like the idea of a country being so passionate about beauty pageants that they light things on fire.)

Standing on the street with the TV showing replays of Medellin losing, the mood was doom and gloom for about twenty minutes. Then I witnessed why Colombia keeps getting voted “happiest country in the world”: While we sat on the street commiserating the loss, people started coming out of the houses handing out plates of BBQ and booze. Soon someone started playing music from one of the apartments and faster than you could say “hooligan” people were dancing salsa.

Dancing the blues away

The mood had lightened up so I asked my friends how long they had to wait until the next soccer season began.

“Ugh it’s horrible Ramie, we have to wait all the way until January!” (it was December…)

*Leave comments below or email ramiejacobson@gmail.com Fun Fact: the first “clasico” rematch of Medellin vs. Nacional happened last night and Medellin won 1-0. My new futbol friends are confident that this is the year they go all the way*