The Buenos Aires Dispatch: Part 2. Inside the Superclásico at La Bombonera

Ninety Minutes That Last a Lifetime

Nothing Comes Close

What can I really say that hasn’t already been said about this fixture? The history, the hatred, the trophies, the relegation of one side — it all speaks for itself. Two colossal footballing institutions, not just in South America but across the world.

All I can say is that whatever lofty expectations you’d rightly have about attending this game, it met them — and then surpassed them with ease. Whatever you’re imagining in your head, add more noise, more colour, more energy, and you may start to come close to what the Superclásico at La Bombonera truly is.

“Add more noise, more colour, more energy.”

Matchday in La Boca

Come matchday in Buenos Aires, I hopped on the bus heading for La Boca. On the streets, I could only spot the Azul y Amarillo of Boca Juniors, and this only intensified with every block passed toward the southern barrio.

We were blessed with beaming sunshine and soaring temperatures, arriving nearly five hours before kick-off. The streets surrounding the stadium were already teeming with delirious fans. Co-opted buses, decked out with Boca banners and flags, rolled in minute by minute, packed with supporters from peñas across the country.

The familiar Argentine terrace soundtrack, trumpets and drums blaring, followed them as they flew by. Some buses even had fans riding on top, waving flags and singing as they surfed along. Here, pasión comes before health and safety.

Through the Streets

Thanks to the guys from Berisso, I grabbed my ticket and was advised to head in early to avoid problems. Cutting through streets filled with the smell of choripán sizzling on the grill and fernet and cola flowing freely, everything felt dialled up to another level. Everyone wore blue and yellow. Every block buzzed with glorious anticipation. Checkpoint after checkpoint passed until, eventually, you found yourself in the shadow of one of the world’s most iconic stadiums.

The Popular Sur

Even entering two hours before kick-off, that feeling was already there. Standing in the lower tier of the Popular Sur, it became immediately clear that you were no longer just an individual fan at a football match; you were part of a swelling, shifting mass of bodies. You had to follow the current, move with the flow. It wasn’t about you anymore; it was about what you could give to the team.

Compared to my experiences in Europe, it was staggering to see how many women and children were present on the terraces for a game of this magnitude, genuinely refreshing to witness. The songs were already in full swing, limbs waving, as the hours flew by toward kick-off.

“It wasn’t about you anymore; it was about what you could give to the team.”

La Doce Had Plans

As the inflatable player tunnels emerged and “Boca mi buen amigo!” swirled around la cancha, La Doce — Boca Juniors’ main barra brava — had plans up their sleeve.

I noticed a few fans with their gaze firmly fixed on the top tier of the stand. After some shouting and pointed fingers, as the players stepped out, I turned to see three enormous tifos unravelling, accompanied by an insane amount of ticker tape that blurred everything in sight.

Before I could even register what the display said, the entire block began pulling down a massive “12” banner, shaking it from side to side while bellowing out songs at full volume. Then, just like that, as the match kicked off, it lifted away — confetti still raining down — and one of the biggest derbies in world football was underway.

“Confetti still raining down — and one of the biggest derbies in world football was underway.”

Chaos and Care

Unfortunately, it took almost until half-time for the first major moment. Exequiel Zeballos danced one-on-one with a River Plate defender before firing home the rebound from his initial shot. What followed was a cascading avalanche of bodies toward the fence in typical Boca fashion.

Amid the chaos, it was incredible to see people diving in to protect children before fully unleashing their celebrations, looking after one another before soaking in the glory of the opener. This sense of collectiveness appeared repeatedly.

There were no stewards in high-vis jackets on patrol, but whenever help was needed, fans stepped in, finding first aid, offering support, or simply checking on each other. Strangers passed around water to beat the heat, hugged whoever was nearby in celebration, and shared in the moment—beautiful organisation and unity within the chaos.

When the TNT Detonates

If the goal before the break lit the fuse, then Miguel Merentiel doubling the lead shortly after the restart was the TNT detonating. Another collective roar erupted as the striker gunned down his defeated opponents in celebration.

At this point, an out-of-form River Plate collapsed as Boca squandered several chances to further salt the wound. As the minutes ticked toward the 90th, the sense of victory grew stronger. In stoppage time, looking down along the terraces, tens of fans dressed in white La B ghost costumes hauled themselves atop the fencing to taunt their crosstown rivals.

Turning around, more flags and banners celebrating River Plate’s relegation suddenly appeared throughout the stadium. Fantastically coordinated shithousing.

Golden Light, Quiet Streets

When the final whistle blew, a shared outpouring of euphoria surged across the ground. Every single person was on their feet — celebrating, climbing for vantage points, crying tears of joy, embracing neighbours, chanting with a unity I don’t think I’ll ever experience again.

I was overwhelmed with emotion, tears welling as the late-day golden light bathed the stadium in an awe-inspiring glow.

It was time to leave, and while I expected the streets to be bouncing, I found the opposite. After nearly five hours of giving every ounce of energy to the team they loved, people quietly took seats in nearby bars or on street corners. Relaxed, beer in hand or paired with grilled meat of choice, each beaming smile spoke volumes about the satisfaction of defeating Las Gallinas.

“I don’t think I’ll ever experience again.”

Boca, Mi Corazón

I feel truly privileged and humbled to have experienced this gargantuan fixture. Even more so to confirm firsthand that it’s every bit as incredible as the stories and history suggest. I’ll tell anyone who’ll listen about this. I’ll tell the grandkids about this. I’ll take these moments to the grave.

Boca, mi corazón.