Buy Me Some Peanuts and a Bulletproof Vest

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Soccer #2
I went to my first Boca Juniors game on Thursday. I was incredibly impressed by all the passion and madness surrounding the team- the massive stadium holding a sea of blue and gold, a line of riot police, a pyrotechnics display that could rival the fire power of some small nations, and the life and traditions so inherent in the team's- and subsequently, the fans'- culture. I, knowing next to nothing about soccer, simply because it has been drilled into my head by my professor that they are the greatest team in Argentina.
So, surely enough, I don my gold sweater and blue scarf in a pitiful attempt to fit into their identity. I learn the fight songs (en español) in anxious anticipation of that triumphant and thundering "GOOOOL!" that will undoubtedly occur. We take pictures by the stadium; we eat our choripan; we buy our Boca gear. We cheer during the game, jeer the bad plays, curse the referee, and hold our breath on any possibility of a goal. By the end, I find myself standing, shouting Spanish words I wouldn't normally even think of saying in English, and genuinely enjoying myself at a sporting event other than a Georgia Tech game (rare). All in all, I had a great time. There's just one catch- Boca lost the game.
Defensor of Uruguay scored the games only goal early in the first half, and after that, Boca just played sloppily, clearly missing that pasión that their fans seemed to be oozing. And there was no blaming it on bad calls or hurt players- they had many chances to score and did not deliver, and the fans knew it. Leaving the stadium, a tension hung in the air around us. Here I am, having a good time, and I'm surrounded by thousands of people frowning, crying, asking why God has done this, and looking generally forlorn.
What, exactly, have I just witnessed? Is this the type of game that ends friendships, breaks ties, and drives people to suicide? I thought that was all fiction and hyperbole. However, the answer came in an email the next day- "The game of infamy. Heads will roll in Boca." The disappointment was heavily present in our little gringo group (especially for our professor, who after the game, dropped to his knees and let loose a shout of "FUCK!" eerily reminiscent of Little Miss Sunshine), but I cannot even fathom how it must have been for the Boca fans who literally devote their lives to this club. Boca is not supposed to lose a big, especially not at home and especially not to Uruguay.
If Tech were to lose a big game, we would be disappointed for a few days and become the punchline of a few jokes, but it certainly wouldn't be anything to cry about. Here, I would be concerned for my safety. I will never understand the passion and borderline lunacy these people feel for soccer. Granted, I wasn't raised in a country where the leader built a massive stadium in an attempt to gain more power and identify more with his people, a la Perón for Racing Club. Nevertheless, I think I'll stick to football for now.

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