On Thursday, the first eliminations of the Argentina Soccer Cup. What is called thirtyyodos of end. Little emotion, right? But it turned out that after the ball of Club Atlético Nueva Chicago, of Primera B Nacional, that is, Second, came the Club Atlético All Boys, First B Metropolitan, or Third. Oops, everyone said. And something was done that in other places might have been scandalized a little, but here he barely raised an eyebrow: he went back to draw All Boys. Finally, to Chicago he played Central de Córdoba and All Boys, Sarmiento.
The explanation? There is bad blood between both clubs. "Question of security," said the organization to justify the settlement. It is a long story.
At the beginning of the 20th century, a large slaughterhouse was installed with refrigerators in the south-western borders of the city of Buenos Aires. The area began to be called Nueva Chicago, because it was compared to the great American center of slaughter and beef cutting. Today the neighborhood, fully urbanized, is called Mataderos. But in 1911, when a group of kids decided to form a soccer team, the name chosen was Los Unidos de Nueva Chicago. They dressed in green and black.
At that same time, a short distance from the slaughterhouse, there was a station that for years had been the terminus of the Ferrocarril Oeste, the first railway line in Buenos Aires. The station was called La Floresta because the only thing that existed there was a great bar (say very large) night animation with that name. Little by little, the area became urbanized. In 1913, several residents of Floresta founded a local club with the name of Club Atlético All Boys. They dressed in white with black trim.
Chicago and Albo, as the All Boys are known, met for the first time on August 31, 1919. They disputed the leadership of the West Zone of the Intermediate Division. There were no victims. That came in 1928, during a friendly meeting in a neutral field, that of Estudiantil Porteño. Albo won 3-2. From the first goal, both hobbies were attacked with fists, sticks and stones. According to the chronicles, it was very, very violent. For idiosyncratic reasons, the Chicago-Albo came to be considered from that day a "classic" of Argentine football.
Chicago and Albo have spent long periods without seeing each other's faces, by military in different categories. But every time they face the tension is very high. On November 16, 1996, he had to charge the police on horseback, there were eight seriously wounded (two of them policemen) and more than twenty detainees. On October 21, 1997 the detainees were 60, with great damage both at the Islas Malvinas Stadium (All Boys) and on public roads.
Some say that the violence in Argentine football could be fixed if the ties between managers, barrabravas, mafias, courts and political organizations were cut. Of course, these underground connections contribute to aggravate the problem. But some people think, like Professor Julio Frydenberg, author of a remarkable Social history of soccer, that evil is endemic. "There was always violence and bars," he says. In his book he explains that the fans were formed in an environment of neighborhood consciousness and enmity with neighboring neighborhoods, and that from the beginning they wanted to "actively influence the game by expressing their feelings, either by throwing orange or bottle or invading the field of play as a way to claim justice and put things in their place. "
Anyway. It was the fortune that the draw of the Argentine Cup, despite the arrangement, made a bad move to the organizers: if both Chicago and Albo win the first round, they will be paired in sixteenths. We will see.