The South American Diaries: Part 9. A Day at La Bombonera

All words and images by Jonas Zöller

“When the third goal comes in the 33rd, it feels like the world flips upside down.”

A Hungover Morning in Recoleta

When I wake up on Sunday, I’m hungover after drifting through the bars of Recoleta the night before. Thinking about what’s ahead mixes a kind of tingling excitement into my headache. La Bombonera. This mythical stadium, where Maradona and Riquelme once laced their boots, is a name that’s been floating through my mind since the beginning of this trip. I’ve already seen four matches in Buenos Aires over the past few days, but this morning I’m more nervous than ever.

San Telmo, the Feria, and the Pull of La Boca

I check my camera, the batteries, and the film two or three times before heading toward San Telmo to walk through the famous feria. The air is cool and damp. It looks like it’s going to rain, but the market is buzzing. With every Boca shirt I see on the street and every blue-and-yellow souvenir the vendors and artists are selling, my thoughts drift away from the market and toward the stadium.

I can’t stand the anticipation much longer and decide to skip the usual Uber and walk in the direction of La Boca. I’m far too early, but the closer I get, the more people in Boca shirts cross my path. Fans gather outside the bars for the previa, and with every step, the excitement rises in my throat. At the first kiosk, I’m too nervous even to respond to the seller’s small talk, and at the second, I almost pay double for my Fernet.

Now I’m so close to the stadium that the first bondis full of fans rolls past with flags waving from the windows. Motorbikes and scooters carrying Boca supporters weave through the streets, and a fire brigade intervention I walk past feels almost surreal amid all this. The constant movement distracts me from my nerves, and when I see the blue façade appear between the houses, it feels like I’m entering another world.

Entering Another World

Many of the corrugated-iron houses are painted blue and yellow; flags and banners hang from windows and balconies; and the air smells of smoke and barbecue. I let myself drift around the stadium—people are already celebrating, smoking joints, drinking beer and Fernet-Cola. Everything in these streets says the same thing: today is about football.

The entrances are heavily cordoned off, and I struggle to find the right one. Once I get there, my first impression is confirmed. The stairwell—with its steep steps and tight turns—feels like a maze, and even the stewards can only partially help me find my block.

First Sight of the Pitch

When I finally arrive and catch my first glimpse of the pitch, everything feels unreal. I’ve seen thousands of photos and videos of this place, but nothing prepared me for the moment of actually standing here. The stands are steep, and the seats leave barely any room, so everyone sits shoulder to shoulder.

By now, the sky has opened its gates, and the rain is pouring down. I watch the sheets of rain shimmering in the floodlights and can’t help but grin: Fritz-Walter weather inside La Bombonera.

Chaos, Euphoria, and Community

Despite the rain, the stadium is packed to the brim before kick-off, and when the teams walk out, “Boca” is already being sung from thousands of throats. The match seems eager to match the collective frenzy, and Boca takes a 2–0 lead by the 24th minute. When the third goal comes in the 33rd, it feels like the world flips upside down.

The stands erupt. People stand on their seats, celebrating, dancing with their backs to the pitch. Everything becomes a blue-and-yellow blur, and suddenly it feels like this isn’t just about football. The way people fall into each other’s arms, the way fathers lift their sons onto their shoulders, tells me this is about community—about family.

As the rain lashes across my face, a strange gratitude hits me. I realise where I am and what I’m witnessing, and the raindrops on my face mix with tears.

Five Goals and an Unforgettable Night

By halftime, my head feels clearer again. I try to warm my freezing hands and hopelessly attempt to dry my soaked shirt. When I return to my seat for the start of the second half, Boca scores twice more and finishes with a 5–0 win.

The rain has stopped, and I follow the stream of fans pouring out of the stadium into the streets to celebrate for the rest of the night. I meet up with Chan, a Boca fan I’d met earlier in Buenos Aires. He can’t hide his pride in his team, not even for a second, and offers to drop me off near my accommodation. We walk a few steps and talk about Boca, Kaiserslautern, and football in general.

When we say goodbye, I feel strangely far from home and at the same time incredibly grateful for my time in Buenos Aires.

Honestly?
This day couldn’t have gone any better.