Shannon Costello

I expected people to be passionate about the game, but I still wasn’t prepared for the intensity in the stadium.

My first warning was when Adrian, the activities coordinator, told us, while we were still in the van, that we could not bring coins into the stadium.  Since there have been problems in the past with people throwing coins on the field no one is allowed to bring them in any more.  This means that there are tons of people asking you to donate your coins outside the stadium.  Anyway, as I have LOTs of coins, I was probably several pounds lighter when I got out of the van.

It also came to light that no alcohol is sold at soccer games.  These things cause one to wonder what, exactly one is going to see.

I was patted down before I was allowed to enter the stadium, also a bit of a surprise.  Having already dumped my coins and having left my firearms back at the house (totally kidding), I was a shoo-in.  I think we were all a little surprised at the seating inside, though it makes perfect sense for an open air stadium in a rainy climate.  There weren’t any seats, just concrete rows arranged stadium style.  And of course many areas were wet, since there had been a light rain.  (I should mention that outside the stadium people were mainly selling ponchose in case of rain.)

Everything is a show in a soccer game.  The refs spend just as much time warming up as the players, and they do it together, so it looks more like a choreographed dance than a warm-up.  Apparently one can find fun youtube videos with refs warming up to ballet music.  Sometimes the players did some stuff together as well.  Meanwhile, in diagnolly opposite corners of the stadium are the ‘barras’, where the really rabid fans hang out.  Please note that they are deliberately placed as far away as possible.  They bring huge bass drums, called ‘bombos’ with which they make a lot of noise.  They have huge banners stretched out all the way across their section, balloons, streamer things that they throw, etc.  And EVERYONE chants, claps, dances together, yelling about how they are going to crush the competition.  Of course everyone in the other barra is doing the same thing, so there is lots of competitive shouting.

We sat behind one of the goals, nearer the ‘other’ team, from Alajuela.  But of course the Saprissas called them ‘Malajuela’.  Anyway, there was tons of energy in the air before the game even began.  Adrian explained other interesting details about soccer games.  For example, the Alajuelans were holding up a purple Saprissa shirt which they had probably taken from a fan in a fight.  Getting the shirt is a trophy.  They also had white shirts that were stuffed and painted with opposing players’ numbers.

I had not expected to find soccer so exciting.  I think I see how soccer must have been the inspiration for Quidditch in Harry Potter.  I have never been to anything like it.  I don’t even care about soccer and I was mega-tense everytime the opposition got close. Sometimes half the stadium would be screaming stuff in unison, like ‘they couldn’t do it’ or ’scared’ or, well, better not get too detailed here.

There was a big fight in the Alajuela barra some time during the game.  5 or 6 policemen in helmets and wielding batons went charging up toward the top row, hitting out at whoever they could.  Meanwhile the fans pressed down from above, apparently hitting back.  !!!  5 or 6 more policemen came running to join the fray, and they closed the gates to that section.  I was amused to see somebody with a tv camera somewhere in the swirl.  I heard something about a mostly naked individual, but did not pick up on that myself.  They carried two people away on a stretcher.  We were too far away to make out details but close enough to see that the first guy’s arm was bloody.  Meanwhile we were all standing, straining to see as much as possible.

Adrian said that the two groups in the barras tended to get in fights afterward, outside the stadium, and that sometimes people threw rocks at buses, etc.  I guess I was scared, though it is hard to find words to describe it.  It was sort of like riding a rickety roller coaster…or maybe standing on a hill watching the flood waters come up and not knowing just how far they would come.  In any case, when I stood up at the end of the game one of my knees wasn’t merely stiff, it genuinely hurt.  I think I was seriously tense.  Part of that I would just attribute to culture shock.  I have some idea of what fans in the US will and will not do, but I had no idea what kind of limits there might be here.  The reaction lasted kind of awhile.  I woke up at 4 in the morning with a soccer-game type of tension.  Like I said, culture shock.

I made quite sure not to get separated from the group on the way out (I had gotten a bit lost in the mall before going to the game.  Maybe I should go to a school where they work on developing one’s sense of direction).  We had to pass by a row of mounted policemen who were blocking the street.  Some faced up the street and others down the street.  A few men were running down the street in the direction of the police officers screaming ‘policia’!  They sounded like they were excited about an upcoming fight…but we did not stick around to see what would happen next.

It was a completely worthwhile experience.  Nobody ever scored a goal, by the way…I can’t decide if I regret that or not.  From what I hear it sounds as if the stadium completely explodes when that happens.