The Superclásico: A Tale of Passion, Pain, and Tradition
Celebrating my 60th birthday by attending the Boca Juniors versus River Plate clash brought back a flood of memories from this legendary fixture.
Since the Observer Sport Monthly named watching Boca play River in Buenos Aires as the ultimate sports experience in 2004, the Superclásico has captivated football fans worldwide. It's renowned for its vibrant atmosphere, electric passion, and raw emotion—think synchronized chants, colorful ticker-tape, and the thunderous rhythm of thousands jumping in unison, all while police patrol the stadium and fireworks light up the sky.
But Sunday’s match at La Bombonera, affectionately known as the Chocolate Box, presented a different scene. Since 2013, Argentine football has seen a ban on away fans, which has toned down the color and fervor typically associated with this derby. While some applaud this shift for making matches more family-oriented and accessible, others mourn the loss of the fierce rivalry.
As I savored a choripán before kickoff, Argentine journalist Ezequiel Fernández Moores reminisced about the first Superclásico without away supporters back in 2013. He recalled the moment Boca’s Emmanuel Gigliotti scored, and the press box stilled as he recognized the need to stifle any cheers for the away team—a stark contrast to the derby's usual intensity.
In the years since, the lack of away fans has led to fewer visiting journalists as well. Now, reporters watch from desks at the same level as Boca's diehard supporters in La Doce, blending in with the crowd’s cheers and jeers, all while sporting the club’s colors.
With rain looming, Boca handed out blue and yellow umbrellas that opened in unison, mirroring the club’s colors and the smoke from the fireworks. Once upon a time, La Doce would sneak in their own pyrotechnics and release balloons in perfect timing with the players’ entrance. When I arrived for my press accreditation, the head of communications made a passing reference to my past interview with José Barritta, the notorious La Doce leader. A nearby young father and his kids looked puzzled. "The day of the Ambush," I explained, recalling a darker chapter in the derby’s history.
Back in 1994, I spent an afternoon with Barritta, crafting a piece on the Superclásico from the heart of the action. Tragically, that day ended with the death of two River fans after the match, and graffiti soon appeared equating their lives to the goals scored. My intended article was shelved, and my fascination with football-related violence faded, replaced by a sobering understanding of its consequences.
Tragedy at the Superclásico wasn’t a new phenomenon even then. In 1968, a horrific crowd crush at Puerta 12 claimed the lives of 71 fans, mostly from Boca. Although much about that day remains murky, reports indicated that Boca and River fans united against the police in the following year’s match. Back then, rivalries were less hostile; gang leaders even collaborated to fight against other club factions until the game’s climate shifted in the late 1970s.
Fast forward to 2018, when Boca and River clashed in a Libertadores final. Argentine President Mauricio Macri thought it’d be a good idea to let away fans back in temporarily. But chaos ensued when Boca’s team bus was attacked, leading to the match being postponed and eventually moved to Madrid, stripping the Superclásico of its soul.
Sunday's encounter, however, lacked the gravitas of a Libertadores final. Given the peculiar Argentine league structure, Boca's 1-0 win over a River side reduced to nine men was more of an afterthought, though it secured Boca a spot in next year’s Libertadores.
“I’ve seen better Superclásicos,” remarked radio commentator Victor Hugo Morales, who was celebrating 60 years of his own commentary career. I had come to pay my respects as I marked 60 years of life. “But I’ve also seen worse,” he added with a knowing smile.
That’s up for debate, but I certainly haven't witnessed as many derbies as he has. The Superclásico rarely delivers on the promised spectacle of football; often, it becomes entangled in the surrounding hype, with massive banners obscuring the view and the action on the pitch.
