San Lorenzo siempre: Boedo, Fernet-Branca and the Big Five

Words: Joey Corlett

Images: Joey Corlett

It was day five of my first trip to South America, and it was finally time for some fútbol.

The fixture list had been kind enough to offer up one of the Cinco Grandes (Big Five) of Argentine football, with Club Atlético San Lorenzo de Almagro hosting Club Atlético Tucumán.

As we jumped into a taxi to head to the ground, the driver, confirming our destination, asked, "San Lorenzo?” in a confused manner.

As soon as we replied yes, he warned us, "Be very careful, it’s very dangerous around there."

He wasn’t the first to caution us about what lay ahead for our first stop on this Argentinian sojourn. After all, we were a woman and a gringo - easy targets.

Decked out in colours of Los Santos (The Saints), we were dropped off and tried our best to blend into the blue and red crowds.

Choripán and Hamburguesas were sizzling on massive grills, and bootleg merchandise sellers lined the streets with designs ranging from very convincing to somewhat questionable.

Buses roared by with fans hanging out of the windows, clutching flags, while drummers and trumpeters warmed up aboard.

We safely navigated our way to the entrance of the larger sports complex that houses the Estadio Pedro Bidegain, alongside a host of pitches, courts, and other facilities for various sports.

Once inside the grounds of the sports club, things felt a little safer.

©Joey Corlett/ Terrace Edition. Club Atlético San Lorenzo de Almagro vs Club Atlético Tucumán.

Fans were enjoying grilled meats and fuelling up on half-litre bottles of the Argentine classic Fernet y Cola (Fernet Branca & Coca Cola)

We soaked up the excitement and wandered around the maze of pitches toward our entrance. That was after one accidental attempt to enter the popular local stand, where a steward checked my British passport, looked confused, and asked, "Foreign?"

He then referenced my ticket and pointed us to the correct entrance. Which was completely fine - I wasn’t quite ready to throw myself in with the Barras Bravas for my first South American stadium experience.

We finally made it to the entrance of the tribune. After a cursory pat-down and a check of our bags, IDs, and tickets, we were in.

Unfortunately, this is when I had to break some bad news to my friend. As she climbed the stairs, she proclaimed, "Ah, now time for a beer!" … "Oh no, it’s a dry stadium." … "What, really?!"

The Englishman in me was quietly proud of how disappointed she was at the lack of drink in the stadium. Suddenly, beer not in view of the pitch doesn’t seem all that bad.

We climbed the steps of section J-Sur toward our allocated seats that overlooked the packed, active local end - brass bands and drummers already in full swing.

A sight to behold, even with 15 minutes to go until kick-off. The popular stand was bouncing and singing like they’d just witnessed a 90th-minute winner.

A blanket of ominous grey cloud trapped the humidity beneath it, we caught the attention of a drink vendor wandering our stand and begrudgingly ordered one cola and one water.

"The most expensive water I’ve ever ordered," my friend exclaimed - but it was needed to keep up with the energy building around us.

As the players entered the pitch, a wave of passion washed over the crowd, starting with the Barra Bravas and rippling around the stadium.

Everyone rose to their feet, lyrics belting out and arms moving in rhythm. It was ear-splitting - and moving.

The pandemonium continued until the referee blew his whistle, and slowly the fans in the tribune around us took their seats. The odd fan remained standing, while the active home end kept roaring, willing San Lorenzo to three points.

To be completely honest, the first-half did lack quality. The Azulgrana (Blue & Reds) failed to produce anything of note, while Tucumán found success on the break but couldn’t deliver a killer blow in the final third.

My friend’s sigh when I told her there were still ten minutes to go spoke volumes. She wasn’t wrong but then San Lorenzo began to grow into the game.

Every shot on Tucumán’s goal was met with a wholehearted "OOOOH," even if it wasn’t remotely close to nestling in the net. Fairplay for the commitment.

One upside of the first-half the cloud had broken and the stadium had slowly become bathed in beautiful late afternoon sun.

During the half-time, the San Lorenzo crowd paid their respects to the Day of the Veterans and Fallen of the Malvinas War commemorated a week earlier on the 2nd of April.

They honoured military veterans and the 649 Argentines who lost their lives attempting to reclaim the islands.

Fans who had fought in the war unveiled a banner reading, "Siempre serán nuestros héroes" (They will always be our heroes), which received a warm round of applause.

This was followed by an even louder, wonderfully ironic chant: "Y YA LO VES, Y YA LO VES, EL QUE NO SALTA, ES UN INGLÉS" (You see it, you see it, whoever doesn’t jump is English).

Safe to say, I kept my mouth shut for the time being.

Former Athletic Club talisman Iker Muniain missed a golden opportunity right on the stroke of half-time, setting the tone for the second half as San Lorenzo took control.

The Spanish captain for Los Cuervos (The Crows) would be the difference maker, cutting in from the right before slicing open the sitting Tucumán defence with a pass to Ezequiel Cerutti.

Cerutti then floated a delightful cross for the 6’1" No. 9, Andrés Vombergar, to nod into the far corner, 1-0. A genuine stroke of class had finally paid dividends.

The fuse had been lit, and the goal was the dynamite.

A thunderous "GOOOOOOAL" surged through the stadium before everyone fell in rhythm with what the Barra Brava were singing.

“Por que sera que te sigo a todas partes Ciclón, por que sera que no puedo vivir sin vos, para el barrio de Boedo todo el ano es carnaval, tenemos mucha marihuana pa fumar.” (Why is it that I follow you everywhere Ciclón, why is it that I can't live without you, for the neighbourhood of Boedo it's carnival all year round, we have a lot of marijuana to smoke.)

Aside from a flicked header from the visitors in the 90th minute that looped harmlessly over the bar, not much else happened on the pitch.

But the show was in the stands, as the fans belted out their full songbook to push their team over the line.

We left with the crowd at full-time to have safety in numbers as we stepped back into the surrounding neighbourhood in search of a taxi to take us back to the centre of Buenos Aires.

As we waited, buses full of jubilant fans rolled past, still belting out chants with all the energy they’d been expending since kick-off.

After bundling into the back of our taxi, I couldn’t help but sit back with a grin on my face and think, "What an introduction to Argentinian football."

Joey is on X and Instagram: @joeycorlett.

He’s also on Bluesky: @joeycorlett.bsky.social.

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