By David Rusk

with thanks to Diego Bouche Ocampo, Gregory Rusk and, especially, Doug Barnes for thoughtful comments and editorial assistance

This is the second part of my Letter to Buenos Aires II. Whereas Part A talked more about Argentina’s social and political history, Part B addresses soccer topics more. But, to repeat, here’s the bottom line: Many Americans may admire and even envy the fervent supporters groups that surround Argentine soccer. I don’t. The soccer culture in the United States is much healthier for our sport and for our country than is Argentina’s soccer culture.

Part B: Barra Brava (1997)

In 1997, I went with my brother-in-law Lalo, son Gregory, and two nephews Diego and Ignacio to an Argentine-Ecuador qualifier at El Monumental, River Plate’s stadium. We had reserved seats in the platea fairly far from the tribuna occupied primarily by Los Borrachos del Tablón (the Bleacher Drunkards), River Plate’s fan group. The massive section was filling up steadily, but the center portion was vacant until just before kickoff, when the capo and his supporters, drums pounding and flags waving, marched in. The leader of mass singing and chanting had arrived. See video of Argentine barras bravas.

"How is who becomes the capo decided?" I asked.

"It’s always the strongest," Diego answered.

"And how is that determined?’

"The factions fight for it."

"Fight just to become cheerleaders?" I was incredulous.

"No. Much more," Diego explained. "Los Borrachos control parking around the stadium …"

"How do they control parking?" I asked. "I didn’t see any lots or parking structures." (We had parked on the street some blocks from El Monumental.)

"Didn’t you see the guy approach Lalo and offer to "protect" our car for $25? If we didn’t pay him, we’d find the windshield smashed or the paint job scratched when we came back."

Years later, a superb article in 2012 by American journalist Patrick Symmes gave me a fuller picture of a barra brava as a criminal enterprise (link). Symmes explained,

The most notorious barras – Boca’s La Doce, River Plate’s [Los Borrachos del Tablon], and Quilmes’s Indians around Buenos ­Aires, along with Rosario Central’s Gangsters and the Lepers of Newell’s Old Boys in the provinces – have captured their stadiums’ concessions, monopolizing sales of soda, hamburgers, and jerseys. La Doce has one of the best scams, taking in somewhere around $125,000 to $150,000 a week in parking fees for home games. The barras routinely skim off players’ salaries. And, like Sopranos of South America, the strongest assert a criminal influence at the global level, taking cuts of the ­transfer fees charged when an Argentine player leaves for the European premier leagues.

But the barras don’t stop at profiteering: they have also been implicated in crime — from petty drug dealing, narcotics trafficking, and money laundering to beating not just rival fans but sometimes their teams’ own players.

Violence has grown from such tragic events of crowds being burned, suffocated, or crushed to deliberate murder by shooting, stabbing or bludgeoning. From the mid-1920s to the mid-1950s there were 12 soccer fans murdered. In the next three decades there were 102. The next 30 years saw 144 murdered.

El Clásico de Avellaneda (1998)

In 1998, Gregory, Diego, Juan Pablo (a nephew-in-law) and I went to a Clásico de Avellaneda between Racing (Diego and Juan Pablo’s club) and Independiente. It’s called the "Clásico de Avellaneda" because both of these Big Five clubs are located just blocks apart in the gritty industrial suburb of Avellaneda. (Imagine Harrison-Newark separated from Manhattan not by the majestic Hudson River but by a stinking, viscous, inflammable creek with two Red Bull Arenas within half mile of each other. Come to think of it, that may be where New York City FC ends up.)

As we walked towards El Cilindro (The Cylinder, Racing’s stadium), from blocks away, we could already hear the Imperial Guard singing and chanting during the reserve game. We had purchased tickets in the tribuna but seated ourselves prudently on the very edge with rows of empty seats to our right as a quick refuge. (Most stadia no longer sold out because fear of violence drove other fans away.) As we made our way towards our places, I noticed guys with baskets full of rolls of accounting machine tape throwing spool after spool up into the crowd.

"When Racing’s first team comes out," Diego said, "according to rumors, you’ll see something that’s never been seen before in Argentina."

Sure enough, when the first team came out for pre-game warmups, the Imperial Guard erupted, throwing thousands of unwinding spools of tape onto the field. The air was so filled with streaming tape that, under the paper cascade, the stadium lights were dimmed to semi-twilight. Shortly, our end of the pitch was so covered with white tape that, when the grounds crew had raked it all to the sidelines, mid-spring Buenos Aires looked like Soldiers’ Field cleared after a big, mid-winter blizzard.

Of course, red flares soon followed, setting fire to both the tape piled four-five feet deep on the sidelines and all the tape thrown from the back rows of the Imperial Guard that had landed within the tribuna itself. The Imperial Guard scattered away from the fires. (Thankfully, nobody seemed to have been hurt.) After the grounds crew had doused the fires (with garden hoses!), it seemed the Clásico was ready to get started a half hour late.

A very famous referee, Javier Castrilli (nicknamed The Sheriff for his rigor in imposing law and order) was standing facing us about 25 yards from the stands. He was briefing the two captains with his linesmen standing behind him. Suddenly, someone threw a big cherry bomb that went off with a huge bang! just behind the linesmen. The three jumped a foot off the ground. (I jumped a foot in the stands.) The Sheriff didn’t jump. He didn’t flinch. His face didn’t twitch as he continued with his instructions. I never saw such an example of self-control. A few minutes later, however, The Sheriff almost cancelled the match when an Independiente fan at the opposite end threw a pair of scissors that almost hit the Racing goalkeeper.

The match ended 1-2 Independiente and we prudently waited while the near riotous Racing crowd shoved its way through exits. Once outside the stadium we saw a colectivo (microbus) with Independiente fans hanging on the outside. A young Independiente hincha let go of the bus, grabbed the Racing cap off Juan Pablo’s head, and leapt back on the bus again. Thus ended my Clásico de Avellaneda.

La Bombonera (2005)

Crowds had become so rowdy that my family discouraged me from trying to go to more matches. However, in 2005, my niece Anna Josefina had found a more secure solution: go as part of an organized tour for tourists to a Boca Juniors-Independiente match at the fabled La Bombonera, Boca’s stadium. Taken by chartered bus, we were unloaded into a clubhouse for the pre-game partying (much akin to the Champions Club at RFK) and then escorted to a special section in the second deck (located right next to La Doce’s tribuna but separated by two high fences, an empty neutral zone and barbed wire. Two things struck me:

• Curiously, La Doce (all male) seemed more intent upon what was going on within the barra itself than what was happening on the field. (Thankfully, Boca beat Independiente.)

• At the pre-game party was a Diego Maradona look-alike (very, very similar face but 4-5 inches taller; I had to look carefully to convince myself that it wasn’t the real Maradona). He was posing for pictures with tourists for a fee – another example of Argentine viveza.

Fútbol Para Todos (2009)

Following the tremendous economic crisis of 2000-01 (during which Argentina had five heads of state within a two week period) the Peronist husband and wife team of Nestor Kirschner and Cristina Fernandez de Kirschner took over the Casa Rosada in 2003. Because the constitution permitted a president to serve only two consecutive four-year terms, the youngish couple conceived a very vivo plan: he would serve four years, then she would serve four years, then he would serve four years, ad infinitum (and a son was standing in the wings). That way the letter of the law would be fulfilled but it would be one continuous regime.

To maintain their power, the Kirschner regime spent huge amounts not just through state-owned media but through political advertising in friendly, privately-owned, television, radio and newspapers. In 2009, the regime found a new way to maximize audience exposure: it nationalized broadcasting soccer games, launching "Fútbol Para Todos" (Soccer for Everyone). With nationalization the practice of broadcasting the most popular matches codificados (i.e. pay per view) on private channels was ended; hence, "Fútbol Para Todos."

With many soccer clubs facing growing financial problems, the Asociación del Fútbol Argentina (AFA) asked the private network TSC (which had contracted to broadcast Primera División matches for the past 15 years) to more than triple its annual fee from 230 million pesos to 720 million pesos. TSC (co-owned by Clarín newspaper, a critic of the Kirschner regime) refused, whereupon the national government stepped in with 600 million pesos to "save" the 2009-10 season. AFA cancelled the TSC contract, and the Kirschner regime took over all broadcasts of Primera División (adding Nacional B in 2011) and international matches. Though matches were broadcast on privately-owned, over-the-air channels, the sole advertisers were the government and Iveco, an Italian truck and bus manufacturer that sponsored Primera División (like Barclay’s Premier League). Moreover, the government produced pre-, halftime, and post-match shows that it mandated be shown on all soccer channels – commentaries labeled by political opponents as purely partisan propaganda.

That is "the official story." With what is now more clearly known of the business practices of FIFA, CONMEBOL, AFA, and Julio Grondona, AFA president for 35 years and FIFA vice president, I suspect it was all a put-up job between AFA and the Kirschner regime.

Buenos Aires – A Hopeful Outlook (2016)

These days there are glimmers of hope with the election of Mauricio Macri, former president of Boca Juniors and mayor of Buenos Aires, to the presidency. Trained as a civil engineer, Macri seems dedicated not to any party ideology but to finding workable solutions to Argentina’s many problems. With his electoral coalition Cambiemos ("Let’s Change") lacking majorities in the two houses of Congress, Macri has succeeded in building an alliance with non-Kirschnerist Peronists to approve a multi-billion settlement with American hedge funds to end Argentina’s 14 year default on its bonds and reopen it to lending from the International Monetary Fund. Many Argentines hope that Macri can bring decades of Argentina’s political parties as "extractive institutions" to an end and re-create broad "inclusive institutions" motivated by the greater good of the nation.

Yet I still saw sights in Buenos Aires in 2016 that I had not seen in 1961:

• cartoneros (men with handcarts that search through curbside trash in well-off neighborhoods late at night, collecting discarded cartons and other salvageable trash for re-sale;

• street muggings in broad daylight (especially, by young men on motor scooters snatching purses right out of women pedestrians’ hands);

• nighttime pedestrians usually walking in groups (In 1961 respectable women could walk city streets alone at 2 am or 3 am without fear);

• locked coffee shop, restaurant, and retail store doors (Staff will open the door only after giving a potential client the once over); and

• three federal police (usually quite young) standing 24/7 in the very block of our family apartment. (Delcia and I speculate that some high-level government official lives in that block).

President Macri and the Argentine people have a lot of work ahead.

Turning to America

What does all this have to do with the United States? As The Washington Post’s Eugene Robinson has said, "I lived in Argentina for four years during its worst times, and let me tell you, we are not there yet, guys."

But how are we trending? In one of the main themes of current political discourse – inequality of income distribution – Argentina and the United States are not very different at all. By the latest World Bank estimates, as measured by a Gini co-efficient, the United States has the world’s 95th most unequal distribution of income and Argentina the 101st most unequal out of 157 countries.

Perhaps by another important measure – pervasive corruption – the gap between our two countries is widest. On Transparency International’s latest Corruption Perception Index the USA ranks 17th "cleanest" (the top five are Denmark, New Zealand, Finland, Sweden, and Norway) and Argentina ranks 107th out of 174 (the bottom five are South Sudan, Afghanistan, Sudan, North Korea and Somalia). Yet both the United States (slowly) and Argentina (much more rapidly) have been moving down that index year by year.

And how about other characteristics of politics as it has evolved in the past eight decades in Argentina?

Argentina United States

Banning opponents Gutting federal Voting Rights Act;

from political participation suppressing minority vote

Jailing, exiling or murdering Not yet, thank God!

political opponents

Politicizing Central Bank; Campaign proposals to make independent

budgeting by printing press Federal Reserve Bank "accountable"

Subordinating independent Partisanship of judicial confirmation

judiciary to politicians at historic high; proposals to re-confirm

Supreme Court justices by popular vote

Stifling a free press Threats against "mainstream media"; even

attacks on usually conservative media; proposals to loosen libel laws

Intimidation thru mass rallies Need I give current examples?

Demonizing opponents ditto above

The loss of convivencia

For soccer fans 1930 marked the first World Cup. To national chagrin the albicelestes lost the final 4-2 to host Uruguay (whom Argentines refer to rather dismissively as la Banda Oriental, the "left bank" of the Rio de la Plata). Host Italy (fortified by four instantly-naturalized Argentines of Italian descent) won the 1934 World Cup. (USMNT fans can hardly point an accusatory finger at that practice, particularly in the Age of Klinsmann.) Sweden ousted the weakened Argentine squad 3-2 in the first round. Angered over FIFA’s decision to hold a second successive World Cup in Europe, neither Uruguay nor Argentina entered the 1938 World Cup in Paris.

But 1930 also marked a military coup that ended Argentina’s seven decades of constitutional, civilian rule (including the 14 previous years of center-left, democratic, reform-minded administrations). Ever since, Argentina has steadily lost its capacity to convivir – to live together across lines of ethnicity and class, to maintain a workable social and political consensus. That is true of both its political culture and its soccer culture. The two feed off each other.

The period from 1930-1943 is known as the Década Infame (Infamous Decade). On the surface, civilian presidents were elected, but the political process was characterized by electoral "patriotic fraud," the repression of opposition, and widespread corruption. Groups like the paramilitary Argentine Patriotic League (an ultra-nationalistic, xenophobic, anti-communist and anti-Semitic militia) were prominent. Ultra-conservative forces pushed to reorganize Argentina along corporatist and fascist lines. (Many Argentine military officers, including Perón, would be trained in and become admirers of Benito Mussolini’s fascist Italy.)

What If?

From the military coup of 1930 until today Argentina has had 37 heads-of-state – 13 military chiefs (as the result of coups) and 24 civilian presidents (including five in a three-week period in December-January, 2000-01); however, half the civilian presidents have been either puppets of the military or served under its shadow. By contrast, during these same 85years the USA has had 14 presidents with two terms cut short by death in office (Roosevelt, Kennedy) and one by resignation (Nixon). The USA has never suffered a military coup d’etat (though, as some Latin American wags have explained, that’s because there isn’t an American Embassy in Washington, DC).

During the 1930s as Americans watched the rise of fascism in Italy, Germany, Spain, Portugal, Austria – and, truth be known, Argentina – the common rejoinder was "It can’t happen here."

Oh? The Argentine military coup of September 6, 2025 involved just a small detachment of forces led by General José Felix Uriburu against the now-unpopular government of President Hipólito Yrigoyen in the midst of the Great Depression. What if, on July 28, 1932, under an even more unpopular President Hebert Hoover in the midst of a deeper economic crisis, Army Chief of Staff General Douglas MacArthur had led the 12th Infantry Regiment and the 3rd Cavalry Regiment, supported by six tanks commanded by Major George S. Patton, not down Pennsylvania Avenue to assault the Bonus Marchers camp in the Anacostia Flats but up Pennsylvania Avenue to seize the White House? After all, the "American Caesar" harbored a lifelong ambition to lead the whole country (and was once labeled "the most dangerous man in America" by FDR).

Good Manners

What is it that has helped hold our vast, diverse nation together through 227 years of constitutional government (though perhaps the American Civil War could be characterized as a massive attack on constitutional government as then-constituted). One element of convivencia was captured by another Washington Post columnist, Michael Gerson, as I began to write this B&RU Fanpost. I agree so much was his observations that, after being urged to put such thoughts in my own words and making several tries, I have abandoned the effort. His column "Dear GOP: Ignoring Manners Does America a Nasty Disservice" explained

[I]t is good manners that allow citizens to argue without coming to blows, and even to find productive compromise…. Particularly in a democracy, good manners involve an affirmation that we, all of us, are part of the same community, and that everyone is due a certain minimal amount of respect. Poor manners, in contrast, can indicate the dehumanization of individuals and groups. The boor is often the bigot.

Good manners create a livable community without recourse to laws and regulations. They create ties among citizens that are not based on compulsion. When we stand in a stadium with our hand over our hearts, or refrain from using bad language in front of children on the subway, or disagree about politics without becoming personal and vicious, we add a few invisible strands that hold our community and democracy together. In most everyday circumstances, manners matter more than laws.

This is a social contract. We treat people with respect in the hope and expectation we will be treated with respect. And people who demand respect without showing it are properly viewed as narcissists or sociopaths.

Those who equate crudeness and cruelty with authenticity are doing a nasty disservice to their country, making it that much harder to live together. Those who want to serve their country should mind their manners.

And this brings me back to soccer and supporters groups. For almost six decades I’ve watched a country (that I love) and a sport (that I also love) destroying itself in Argentina. In fact, Argentine politics and soccer culture aren’t just interwoven indirectly; over the last decade, political parties (ironically, usually the faction in power) have regularly hired the more violent, ski-mask wearing barras to provide "muscle" at political demonstrations.

If, as Eugene Robinson cautions, "we are not there yet [in America], guys," nevertheless, I am troubled by trends that I see – far more in our political life than in our soccer culture. In fact, I’ve bragged on our soccer culture to Argentine friends and family who, not being among those who riot, are sympathetic. Yet, as a Screaming Eagle who regularly spends more time on the Loud Side than in my STM seat on the Quiet Side and has gone on almost all bus trips to Chester, Harrison and The Bronx over the past three seasons, I do feel that we need to raise the bar a bit more.

Guidelines for Barras Bravas, USA-style

How should we supporters groups conduct ourselves – however enthusiastically we may root for our team – in order to "add a few invisible strands that hold out community and democracy together?"

Above all, of course, we must provide a safe environment for everyone of whatever sex or age. Argentine barras demonstrate excessive machismo, walking a very fine line between just "boys being boys" and outright dangerous behavior. Setting aside extreme criminality associated with some barras, there are routinely too many instances of objects being thrown into spectators seated below or at players and officials on the field (bottles, cherry bombs, even scissors – see above), pushing and shoving in highly crowded conditions (see the Puerta 12 tragedy), starting fires in the stands, and, of course, battles between opposing barras. We must never do anything that adversely affects anybody’s health and safety. Throwing beer into the air after a DC United goal is harmless enough, especially since most sitting on the Loud Side among the supporters groups know that that is the customary celebration. But flares or smoke bombs or other fireworks? In 2014, they caused 10,500 injuries treated in hospital emergency rooms (plus 11 fatalities) in the USA. And with all the medical evidence about second hand smoke, are flares and smoke bombs actually good for anybody? I saw a recent report that one prospective MLS club (Sacramento, I think) is planning for fog machines to substitute for smoke in their supporters sections. That strikes me as benign enough. (The fog might even wash off some of the beer with which I hope we’re drenched as DC United runs up the score.)

Moreover, our concern for a safe environment must cover pre-match, during and post-match behavior. For example, overconsumption of alcohol leads to dysfunctional behavior which can be dangerous both to those drunk and to innocent parties. You wouldn’t let a friend drink too much and then drive home from a party. Why shouldn’t the same standard be applied to partying in RFK and Lot 8?

Maintain an environment that attracts more fans from any background. Again, a result of the excessively macho, violence-prone atmosphere of Argentine barras is that, in my nephew Diego’s words, "the average citizen is no longer interested in going to the stadium to see his favorite sport but prefers to watch it comfortably and safely in his own house." By contrast, we have what may be the world’s most family-friendly soccer culture. The lifelong San Lorenzo socio Pope Francis would be astonished at all the women, little boys and girls, and young families (even with infants in arms) at RFK. And a national survey has shown that the membership in American supporters groups is split almost evenly between men and women.

Big crowds – whether at soccer matches or political rallies – lend themselves to mob psychology that sanctions otherwise unacceptable actions and attitudes. (We have certainly seen ugly attitudes encouraged during the current Republican primary campaign.) FIFA has finally been brought to target racism, sexism, and homophobic attitudes abroad (more the first than the latter two). American soccer supporters clubs probably lead the world in being inclusive in membership and conduct – anti-racist, anti-sexist, anti-homophobic. Nevertheless, we must be always vigilant to create a culture of maximum inclusion and mutual respect for all and reject racist, sexist and homophobic actions both as groups and by our individual members. As Howler’s blogger Gaby Kirschner (no relation!) reminds us, "because words do matter, they should be taken seriously and used to bring soccer fans together rather than tear them apart."

Let’s clean up our language to make being at the stadium fun – and acceptable – for all. That certain mob atmosphere sanctions language that you wouldn’t use before your grandmother. I don’t think that I’m a prude: though setting a record for "blue language" (in Argentina, the color equivalent is green), Delcia and I enjoyed watching HBO’s Deadwood," which was an excellent drama. But "Fuck You Ref" certainly shows a lack of creativity. We can do better than that. And absolutely let’s retire "hit ‘em again, hit ‘em again, harder, harder." We shouldn’t wish an injury on any opponent … even Felipe.

DC United’s motto is "Win championships, serve the community." The charitable activities of both club and supporters groups are extensive, especially reaching out to youngsters in disadvantaged communities. Emphasize serving the community. That enhances the "better angels of our nature" both within our supporters groups and with regard to the community that surrounds us.

Among recent seasons’ very special events are the joint tailgates with Sons of Ben both at RFK and in Chester. I commented to a group of Sons of Ben in Chester that "in Argentina if the hinchadas of Boca Juniors and River Plate were planning a pre-match get-together, 100 riot police would be separating us." (I grossly underestimated. There would have been 1,500 riot police.) The joint support for naming a DC United-Philadelphia Union rivalry cup The Shertz-Gemmell Cup emphasizes our mutual friendly relations. Supporters groups can create an atmosphere of disrespect for opposing teams that goes beyond good fun. Thus, we should never treat the opposition as "the enemy" (except Red Bull).

I’ve written at length about Argentina (for which length I apologize to B&RU readers). But Brazil shares many common elements of political and soccer culture. As our Brazilian B&RU blogger prsancho says (much more concisely than I)

MLS has great supporting groups with negligible hooliganism. My goodness! I took a four year old to an away game in a supporting group bus, during playoffs, against the biggest rival! Do you know when I would take a similar bus, ALONE, for a pre-season game, against an amateur side, in South America? NEVER!

I remember my first game in the RFK. I had moved in to America a few months before. I was missing soccer. Since I already had sympathies toward DC United, I decided to give it a try. Boy, I couldn’t have felt more at home in the Loud Side! I understand that it could look chaotic from the outside, but it was an absolutely ordered party. I am glad that I could share the experience with my son. Everything felt so right. The chants, the flags, the beer shower, the bouncing stands, the celebration during halftime… It was authentic. It was intense. It was fun. It was soccer as it should always be. I am in love with the club ever since.

Conclusion

If these are modest recommendations, I believe that our soccer culture is in much better shape than our current political culture. (A friendly gathering between the equivalents of Screaming Eagles and Sons of Ben never happens these days on Capitol Hill.) Politics and soccer are inextricably intertwined in Argentina. That’s hardly the case in the USA, but civility in whatever we do matters. Let’s set a good example at RFK as we prepare for the move to Buzzard Point.