"Salvo dormir, nada me interesa más que sentarme en un sillón reclinable a ver cualquier partido de fútbol, preferentemente de la liga argentina o española, pero también de las copas europeas o sudamericanas, del torneo inglés, italiano o chileno, o incluso, en mis momentos más abyetos, que me producen una sensación de repugnancia de ser quien soy: ese hombre fofo que mira una pelota-, partidos del dantesco campeonato peruano."
- Jaime Bayly, El canalla sentimental
I'm not exactly quoting Melville here. The above passage manifests a human being's basic desire to sit in a recliner and watch people chase balls. Jaime confesses a certain vice that keeps me laughing- "my most abject moments reveal the repugnant sensation of my being: this dope of a man watching the Dantean Peruvian championship."
I've never read Dante but I'm well acquainted with the hell of Peruvian soccer. When I got to Perú in 2003, Cuzco's team, Cienciano, won the Copa Libertadores. This is the title claimed by the best league team in South America. I watched the game in Mazac with my host family who had no idea who was playing or why. Even then I realized that it was a big deal for a country that never wins anything, ever. To commemorate the victory, Sonia Morales wrote the following song:
It's got to be among the greatest huayno songs written:
"Cienciano champion, Cienciano champion, it's the feeling of Cuzco and all of Perú. No, no they won't beat us. Fight, Cienciano. The world is happy for your dignity."
Later in the song is a refrain in which Sonia essentially refers to the soccer team as her father. "Upa upa upapá, Cienciano es el papá." I'm not sure what it means but I love it. On some level I consider the Seattle Mariners to be my father, so I get that.
I'm familiar with Peruvian soccer from the pueblo level to the national team. I used to play with the muchachos en Mazac until my disinterested play and the intense betting on the games led me to retire.
The Mazaquinos play some fútbol. Do they ever. I had the pleasure of attending a league game- a series of different teams from the Yungay region that meet every Sunday at Ranrahirca to determine the provincial championship. Isidoro is vice president of the club, meaning that this past Sunday, I entered the stadium as a team official, carrying uniforms and water. Our opponents, Defensor, instantly appealed to the league officials- a gringo should not be allowed on the field. He most certainly will play like Beckham, or Béquan as it were. I assured them that I would not be bending it, I just wanted a good seat for the game.
My seat was a jagged rock in full sun. I assumed my position as team official and teased the players for arriving hungover. They complained about their headaches, the sun, their uniforms, and their coach. They chain-smoked in preparation for the game. The team's best players arrived less than five minutes before the game began. With everyone suited, Javier, the oldest, most respected and worst player on the team, gave a speach:
"We know that those guys have players and that they can run and kick. But we're gonna stay in our positions and play good. We're gonna stand in different parts of the field and we're gonna kick the ball. Yonny, you make sure you kick the ball. You kick good. Let's all make sure we kick the ball, concha su madre."
Inspiring. Es el sentimiento de todo lo de Mazac y también del Perú.
Once the action started, Mazac looked good. Javier and the other overweight midfielder, a taxi driver named with a jheri curl, kicked the ball good despite not running. They kicked it good to Yonny, who made sure to kick the ball good and scored a goal.
After that it was all downhill. Javier and jheri curl continued to man their positions, rarely moving. Yonny would have liked to kick the ball good but no one kicked the ball good to him. When it was time to play defense, Javier and jheri curl stood at their stations, yelling at everyone else to do some running. Uninspired, Mazac stood still and waited for more chances to kick the ball good, as had been their instructions before the game.
Mazac lost 3-1. Before the game was over, not wanting to share in the defeat, I headed for the stands and ate one icecream, a bag of popcorn, then another icecream. Mazac lost but I definitely won.
Perú's national team is much like Mazac's, except that it doesn't exist. Perú has one of the most talented strikers in the world, Claudio Pizarro, but they've only ever been able to beat Bolivia, and only then if the game is in Lima. Perú did not qualify for the World Cup, and as of right now, it appears that the team has neither an administrative body nor a coach. Much like Mazac, they appear to have several players who stand around and kick good.
The only difference between watching Peruvian soccer and spending 90 in hell is the icecream.
I've never read Dante but I'm well acquainted with the hell of Peruvian soccer. When I got to Perú in 2003, Cuzco's team, Cienciano, won the Copa Libertadores. This is the title claimed by the best league team in South America. I watched the game in Mazac with my host family who had no idea who was playing or why. Even then I realized that it was a big deal for a country that never wins anything, ever. To commemorate the victory, Sonia Morales wrote the following song:
It's got to be among the greatest huayno songs written:
"Cienciano champion, Cienciano champion, it's the feeling of Cuzco and all of Perú. No, no they won't beat us. Fight, Cienciano. The world is happy for your dignity."
Later in the song is a refrain in which Sonia essentially refers to the soccer team as her father. "Upa upa upapá, Cienciano es el papá." I'm not sure what it means but I love it. On some level I consider the Seattle Mariners to be my father, so I get that.
I'm familiar with Peruvian soccer from the pueblo level to the national team. I used to play with the muchachos en Mazac until my disinterested play and the intense betting on the games led me to retire.
The Mazaquinos play some fútbol. Do they ever. I had the pleasure of attending a league game- a series of different teams from the Yungay region that meet every Sunday at Ranrahirca to determine the provincial championship. Isidoro is vice president of the club, meaning that this past Sunday, I entered the stadium as a team official, carrying uniforms and water. Our opponents, Defensor, instantly appealed to the league officials- a gringo should not be allowed on the field. He most certainly will play like Beckham, or Béquan as it were. I assured them that I would not be bending it, I just wanted a good seat for the game.
My seat was a jagged rock in full sun. I assumed my position as team official and teased the players for arriving hungover. They complained about their headaches, the sun, their uniforms, and their coach. They chain-smoked in preparation for the game. The team's best players arrived less than five minutes before the game began. With everyone suited, Javier, the oldest, most respected and worst player on the team, gave a speach:
"We know that those guys have players and that they can run and kick. But we're gonna stay in our positions and play good. We're gonna stand in different parts of the field and we're gonna kick the ball. Yonny, you make sure you kick the ball. You kick good. Let's all make sure we kick the ball, concha su madre."
Inspiring. Es el sentimiento de todo lo de Mazac y también del Perú.
Once the action started, Mazac looked good. Javier and the other overweight midfielder, a taxi driver named with a jheri curl, kicked the ball good despite not running. They kicked it good to Yonny, who made sure to kick the ball good and scored a goal.
After that it was all downhill. Javier and jheri curl continued to man their positions, rarely moving. Yonny would have liked to kick the ball good but no one kicked the ball good to him. When it was time to play defense, Javier and jheri curl stood at their stations, yelling at everyone else to do some running. Uninspired, Mazac stood still and waited for more chances to kick the ball good, as had been their instructions before the game.
Mazac lost 3-1. Before the game was over, not wanting to share in the defeat, I headed for the stands and ate one icecream, a bag of popcorn, then another icecream. Mazac lost but I definitely won.
Perú's national team is much like Mazac's, except that it doesn't exist. Perú has one of the most talented strikers in the world, Claudio Pizarro, but they've only ever been able to beat Bolivia, and only then if the game is in Lima. Perú did not qualify for the World Cup, and as of right now, it appears that the team has neither an administrative body nor a coach. Much like Mazac, they appear to have several players who stand around and kick good.
The only difference between watching Peruvian soccer and spending 90 in hell is the icecream.
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