Medellín, Colombia

August 2022

Before going on my maiden voyage as a football tourist, I needed to run it by the person who was the reason why I was going to Colombia in the first place. It was my friend's bachelor party and while Colombia might not be the first place you think of when it comes to a stag do, given his love of travel and new experiences, venturing down to this South American country was a no-brainer. After confirming the location, my excitement at the prospect of being able to see a soccer game outside the US was on par with a child seeing Santa Clause or a Swiftie getting tickets to Taylor Swift's upcoming tour (those who know me will understand how miraculous of an achievement that is). As he asked on the group text with the other best men who were going what we should do, I suggested seeing a soccer game. Since the world's game in that part of the world is akin to a religious experience, everyone agreed to add it to the itinerary.

Fast forward to match day (for anyone interested in seeing what I did sans soccer, checkout my Instagram; Colombia was a lot of fun); we were all eager to see the game, however, one step still remained, getting tickets. While it may sound like I just forgot to get tickets (harsh assumption but fair), the only option for getting tickets thanks to my countless Google searches was to get them at the stadium. As we took a taxi to the stadium, our Uber driver told us that the stadium didn't sell tickets and while my heart sank, he told us the solution. He knew someone with extra tickets and would introduce him to us. After buying scalper-like tickets at a non-scalper-like rate (just $9 each!), I started the authentic experience of seeing a soccer game in a country where this sport is as integral to its residents daily life as water is to a fish.

As we walked towards Estadio Atanasio Girardot (the home of Independiente Medellín, the team we came to see) I began to realize that like Dorothy, I wasn't in Kansas anymore. We passed cops in riot gear and on horses. In addition to the large police presence, the multicolored, hard-plastic seats that were visible all around me were sights that I've only previously seen on TV when watching the US men's team play in World Cup qualifiers. One thing that I couldn't experience from a TV screen was the vibrant and electric sounds coming from the supporter section to my right.

After watching an Independiente set-piece that resulted in a brilliant header goal, I couldn't help but but watch the euphoric celebrations coming from the supporter section. One of my friend's fellow best men suggested we watch the second half there and boy did it not take much to convince me. Luckily, we were able to grab four seats on the outskirts of the supporter section to witness it first hand without being directly in the the belly of the beast. Another aspect of the game that I was able to enjoy in both the neutral and supporter section was the top-knotch display of shithousing coming from the Independiente faithful. For those of you who are not familiar and think I'm just nonchalantly throwing a curse word in this blog due to my high-brow vocabulary, shithousing is soccer's version of gamesmanship. Just like a defensive player in an NFL game continuing his tackle on his opponent by not moving on top of him to waste time, soccer players also practice the sporting dark arts. Usual examples are kicking the ball away slightly away from where there opponent is supposed to kick the ball or going down with an apparent injury to halt the other teams momentum. As you can tell, the two examples I gave came from the players. What I experienced in Medellín was a brilliant display of shithousing from the home team's fans. As soon as an opposing player gained possession, I heard a piercing and in-unision whistle emanating from thousands of Independiente fans.

Thanks to the overwhelming support from their fans, Independiente held the upper-hand the entire game despite coming into that night's match below their opponent in the standings. With a 1-0 lead and momentum on their side, Independiente added the cherry on top by adding another goal at the end of regulation thanks to a successful penalty kick. As we were buzzing from watching a fantastic game, we took a page out of my dad's playbook of leaving a New York Met's game in the 8th inning to avoid traffic and started walking towards the exit during stoppage time. From the bowels of the stadium, we took a photo as proof because as a true millennial, if you didn't take a photo, did it like even happen!?