The Buenos Aires Dispatch: Part 1. A First Night Among the Quemeros

“Police lined the streets in riot gear, rubber-bullet shotguns visible as a reminder to keep passions in check.”

Over the coming weeks, Joey Corlett will be travelling across Buenos Aires in search of football culture in its purest form — from neighbourhood stadiums and historic barrios to matchday rituals, rivalries, and the stories that live between the stands. This is the first instalment of The Buenos Aires Dispatch: an initiation into life behind enemy lines, beginning at Huracán’s iconic home, the Estadio Tomás Adolfo Ducó.

‘Infiltrado, an infiltrator – to be behind enemy lines among the rival fanbase.’

Quoted from Christopher Hylland’s book Dame Bola, the phrase felt immediately relevant to this experience. After learning about the history of Newell’s Old Boys for my podcast The Journeymen, I’d developed a major soft spot for the Rojinegros. However, due to their poor performances throughout the Clausura, my only real opportunity to see them in the flesh while in Argentina came away from home, at Huracán. That meant embracing the role of the infiltrator.

Thankfully, the reality wasn’t quite as dangerous or thrilling as the word suggests. Buying a ticket online was easy enough; dressed in all black and keeping myself to myself, it was a relatively straightforward task to visit the spectacular Estadio Tomás Adolfo Ducó incognito.

Arriving via Bondi, it was a short, inconspicuous wander through the barrio of Barracas before the stadium’s huge curving stands began to loom large. The area buzzed with life, though it wasn’t packed. Huracán themselves had hardly impressed during the season, with only an outside shot at the play-offs, and with an equally out-of-form Newell’s side in town, this wasn’t the hottest ticket in Buenos Aires. Still, the seriousness of Argentine football culture was clear — police lined the streets in riot gear, rubber-bullet shotguns visible as a reminder to keep passions in check.

Before entering my allotted gate, I stopped to admire the stadium’s brickwork exterior. The façade evoked echoes of Arsenal’s old Highbury — classic, imposing, and steeped in nostalgia — especially along the historic tribune stand. Red and white detailing completes the effect beautifully. Inside, the visual identity doesn’t relent. The same vivid colours wrap around the ground, and when the players emerge to billowing plumes of smoke, accompanied by the relentless rhythm of the bombo con platillo and piercing trompeta, the sensory overload is complete.

Despite the stadium being little more than 60% full, the noise was remarkable. The loudest moment came when Newell’s grabbed their second goal inside 35 minutes. Two unglamorous, route-one punts weren’t dealt with, and the visitors punished Huracán ruthlessly. The home crowd responded instantly, erupting into furious song:
‘¡Jugadores! ¡La c***** de su madre! ¡A ver si ponen huevos!’ Roughly translated: ‘Players, the p*** of your mother — play with more balls!’*

I kept my head down, quietly revelling in the fact that the anger was directed firmly at their own players.

With that advantage, Newell’s ensured very little else happened in the game. With relegation still a looming threat, there was no appetite to gamble away precious points on the road. As the match drew to a close, the sun finally broke through, illuminating the estadio in golden light — a perfect backdrop to savour a much-needed away win and soak up the final traces of atmosphere.

It was a shame the ground wasn’t fuller, but the Estadio Tomás Adolfo Ducó remains an incredibly imposing and visually striking place. For any groundhopper visiting Buenos Aires, it’s an essential stop. Mission infiltrado: complete.