El Superclásico: Boca Juniors v. River Plate

Outside of Latin America, it's one of the more under-the-radar sports rivalries, but in my books, the Superclásico between Boca Juniors and River Plate trumps anything a Yankees-Red Sox, Army-Navy or even Barça-Real game can bring. Twice a year, the entire city of Buenos Aires-- actually, you could probably extend that to the entire country and surrounding ones-- comes to a standstill. Domestic disputes and feuds between neighbors with allegiances to opposing teams break out, and not all are in good nature. Even those that normally couldn't care less about soccer the other 361 days of the year are now involved. In a way, they kind of have to be. The atmosphere dictates it. Whether it's because literally every bar's TV is tuned to it, because the local grocery store is closed because the owner is a die hard Boca fan, or because you live close enough to the stadium to feel the vibrations.

The Boca-River rivalry is Argentina's, and quite possibly all of South America's, most intense sports competition. While both clubs originated in La Boca, a working class barrio at the mouth of the Riachuelo, River Plate eventually moved to a more affluent neighborhood in the northern part of the city, thus acquiring the nickname Los Millionarios. Boca, meanwhile, maintained strong support from the local immigrant community and took on more of a working class identity. Although the demographic makeup of aficionados are not as clear-cut now, strong ties to socioeconomic factors remain. Boca fans refer to River followers as gallinas (chickens) for their lack of guts, while River supporters have coined the endearing term bosteros (manure collectors) with which to address the Boca Juniors. Fans profess their undying loyalty with songs, professing:

Hasta que me muera,
Te voy a alentar,
Y si volviera de encarnar en otra vida,
No sé por dónde viviría,
De qué iría a trabajar,
Pero segro que de River yo sería...

[Until I die,
I will follow,
And if I am reborn in another life,
I don't know where I would live,
Or where I would work,
But I know I would follow River]

Both teams' stadiums are considered popular tourist attractions. Boca's Bombanera is always a must-see stop on tours, and River's El Monumental is the national stadium of Argentina. Tickets are quickly snatched up by the clubs' member organizations and must otherwise be purchased through half-open windows or hidden street corners in parts of town guide books warn tourists to stay away from. The Superclásico is much more than entertainment or just a game, and, as is the case with any extreme sports rivalry, not without its share of tragedy. On June 23, 1968 in El Monumental, 71 fans were killed and 150 injured in a stampede. There is controversy over the true cause of the event; some attribute it to burning River flags thrown from the upper tiers, while others blame the incident on several Boca fans charging against River fans. Still, there is something to be said for the intense emotional involvement and genuine passion with which fans treat the Superclásico.

I have been to a fair number of sporting events, but I have yet to experience anything that compares to being completely lost in a sea of over 60,000 fans who are waving banners of red and white on one side, blue and yellow on the other, and jumping up and down chanting "La puta que te parió," "Concha de tu madre" and other obscenities to the tune of popular Argentine rock songs (I'll leave the translation out on these).