by Juan Arango

Created on: December 30, 2006   Last Updated: May 14, 2007

Studying in Buenos Aires for a year was one of the most rewarding and life-altering experiences I had. Learning about a culture that makes the diverse and universally vast world of Hispanic heritage opened my eyes to a world that I never knew, yet was in front of my nose all of my life. It was a world that made me become a man of the world.

What made me that way was that fateful day that I decided to go to a match with a young companion. I had been a football fan all of my life and to hear from my cousins all the talk about the legendary feats of Gatti, Rattin, Maradona, Brindisi and the others guided me to obtain an affinity towards the Xeneize.

Taking the cab to the stadium was an adventure all to itself. The cab driver was a huge Boca fan, and to see a foreigner going there was like converting a heretic into a saint. My friend and I went there along with two of Juan Roman Riquelme's favorite friends. When they asked me where I was from I was scared out of my wits. If I said I was American, they would assault me. If I said I was from Miami, then they would ask for money. God what a dilemma! "I'm Colombian". Out of nowhere I get a kiss on the cheek- from the guy. "I love your country; some of the players that came from there have given me some very fond memories." He was talking about the contributions of Mauricio Serna, Oscar Cordoba, and Jorge Bermudez. These three players are looked upon as idols in Boca circles. He then went into a ratty backpack that must have been found on some street corner, and pulled out a sleek goalkeeper jersey.

The jersey looked in pristine condition. A jersey that exuded greatness- a jersey that felt that was a part of great moment in this man's life. So much so that he wanted me to be a part of that happiness. Meanwhile, my companion was laughing at the reaction that I had. It would be a foreshadowing of the events that were to come in a few hours.

Walking into the stadium was an event that plays on a loop in mind over and over again. The lost young adult once again became a wide-eyed boy in awe over his personal paradise. A pilgrim arriving to his Mecca for the very first time; I can only feel the emotion. I will do my best to give justice with the only arsenal to my disposal- words.

I was so excited to go in to La Bombonera for the first time that the pungent odor of urine and lower class debauchery romanticized the ambience all the more. Hey, what did I care, I was in the same place where millions of fans wanted to make the stadium

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