One of the best parts about watching a televised soccer game in Spanish is the commentary. The celebration of goals is bar-none impressive as the announcer draws out a three-letter word in a deep, celebratory tone:
GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL
This enthusiasm is only a sliver of the excitement and celebration during a live game.
A few days ago my friend, Jessie, and I bought tickets to see Atlético Nacional play Cali de América.
Even if you don’t follow South American soccer, you may have heard of Atlético Nacional. Roughly a year ago, Nacional was scheduled to play a small Brazilian team en route to the Copa Sud America Finals. However, that small team, Chapecoense, encountered miserable, fateful luck as their flight to Medellin ran out of fuel and crashed as it was circling the airport for landing.
Yet most Colombians knew Atlético Nacional long before that. The team is currently the best soccer team in Colombia, and one of the best in South America.
With that said, we couldn’t NOT watch them play.
Accompanied by a hodgepodge of foreigners from our hostel, we boarded a bus and made our trek to the stadium. Kickoff was at 8 pm which gave us substantial time to wait in unnecessary lines and drink some Aguila, a local beer.
As we were all standing in line chatting and waiting to enter the stadium, we felt a few drops of rain and saw some flashes of light. Lovely. This stadium that we were entering to watch a 90-minute soccer game was entirely outside.
But, the great thing about feeling a few speckles of water, is that like clockwork you hear screams for “PONCHO, PONCHO, PONCHO.”
The guys selling the ponchos made their way through the lines of people waiting to enter the stadium. Each poncho was two thousand pesos (less than a dollar) and definitely worth that, too. They looked like white garbage bags that someone had cut “sleeves” and a “hood” into.
Equipped with our unfortunately (and accidentally) suggestive white, hooded ponchos, we made our way into the stadium. While we each had designated seats, no one sits in their actual seats. As a result, everyone--technically scattered between Sections 1 to 5--found a seat in Section 2 only two rows from the field.
Even with 15 minutes until kickoff, the fans were already standing.
And not only were they standing, but they were jumping. These jumping beans had snare drums and trumpets and tubas. They brought banners and balloons and massive signs. The monsoon didn’t deter many fans.
When surrounded by jumping, screaming fans, it is hard not to become one. The three-inch deep river at our feet, which resulted from poor drainage in the stadium, didn’t prevent anyone from jumping and splashing. As a result, the rain SOAKED through our trash bags and clothes.
When our forwards missed shots on the opponent’s goal, fans would scream “HIJO DE PUTA.” And those were the only words that were comprehensible.
The fans had banners reminding the opposing team that they had been demoted a division. They sent balloons with these reminders onto the field, which Cali’s players removed as they dropped to the ground.
Roughly 30 minutes into the antagonizing/game, our forwards got a shot at goal.
This one they didn’t miss.
Even without the televised announcer’s deep voice, I could hear and feel the stadium vibrate in celebration:
GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL
Except this wasn't from one deep-voiced announcer. Rather, it was a simultaneous roar from 4,000 people. Fans hugged anyone within reach. They jumped even higher in the three-inch deep rivers and beat on snare drums magically louder.
No one sat at any point in the game. It was never quiet. The impromptu pep band played throughout the entire game. People had written songs specifically for this game, which became part of the repertoire of lyrics.
We left completely drenched but overwhelmed with enthusiasm as Nacional won 2-0. After attending a game, I'm not sure if a TV broadcast will ever do a Colombian soccer game justice.
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