Wednesday afternoon I showed up at my friends' house around 4pm. Earlier than everyone else so we had access to all the paint we wanted. Here's the result:
By 6pm the group of fifty-seven gringos had all shown up and we boarded a private bus that took us to Saprissa's stadium, because public transportation for a bunch of gringos sporting the colors of the away team would another not-so-bright-idea to tally up on the board. You see, Ticos are quite passionate about their soccer, and very passionate about their team. Which is great, until that passion is expressed through sheer hatred and a formidable desire to maim anyone from the opposing team. And we had targets painted on us.. Literally.
The bus came to a stop several blocks from the stadium and it was our job to stick together and make it the rest of the way in one piece. The excitement in the air, and the rush to get the best seats–we had a whole section reserved instead of individual seats–quickly broke our large, gringo group up into several mini, gringo groups all rushing to the entry. Somehow, in the mix of it all my friend–the 'L' in the picture–lost his ticket. I stayed with him outside the ticket checkpoint that was guarded with police in order to scan the streets for that magical piece of paper. There was 'L' and 'I' wandering seemingly aimless, but rather purposeful, in a mob of riled-up Saprisistas. We quickly got word from some gringo stragglers that one of our fellow gringos found the ticket. Only problem was, he had already passed through the checkpoint lined with police-men. A girl we knew was on the other side and slipped 'L' her ticket so he could pass through–ironically enough, she's the one above us in the picture. We then sprinted toward the stadium dodging stares, yells, and fists along the way to find the missing ticket holder. We found him, got the ticket, said thanks, and re-grouped with 'G' and 'A'. The four of us were together with three girls, and 'G's Tico dad. Where the rest of the 57 was? In my thoughts and prayers...
Next step was getting into the stadium. We got in line to enter, but once we got toward the front we were told that we were on the wrong side, and had to go around. Only thing is, they let three of the girls we were with inside and since they had their tickets ripped, were not being let back out without some begging. In the meantime, I had my ticket in hand ready to give it to the guard, but had kept it in hand while we were trying to get the girls back. As any smart Saprisista would, one passed in front of me and grabbed my ticket. To my surprise, I instinctively reached under his arm and grabbed his hand where a simple rotation of mine would have broken his wrist. He looked at me straight in the eyes and told me to let go, but I didn't. 'G' noticed the scene, and came to my defense shaking his head at the Saprisista. He quickly stood down, kept his wrist in tact, and blurred into his purple and white crowd. Soon after, the girls were released and we were escorted to the correct entrance by a guard who could explain the already ripped tickets. On that jaunt I felt someone try to pick my pocket, but since I was wearing a pair of pants that didn't have back pockets, all the guy got was a quick feel of my butt. I only hope that wasn't what he was after... We finally made it to the correct gate, entered the stadium, and found our seats. Not in the Liga section that we thought we would be in. We were a tiny drop of black and red in a vast sea of purple and white. The upside is it made us easy to spot by the photographers and film crew so we made it both on La Liga's website and Costa Rican television!
The game started and La Liga quickly scored. We went wild. 'G's Tico dad was running across our seats topless, waving his shirt around, and yelling at the top of his lungs. A little bit later in the game an honest to goodness bad call was made by the ref and Saprissa was able to take a penalty kick saving them from losing the game. They scored, and it was deafening. Twenty-thousand Saprissa fans were going off the chain. The ones surrounding us weren't cheering toward the field, but rather all turned toward us, yelling at us in mockery, flipping us off, and 'putting us in our place'. The first half came to an end with no additional goals.
In the second half, La Liga scored again. This was our turn to go off the chain, and we did. With glares and birdies around us we celebrated as if we had just taken out a foreign dictator. Then Saprissa responded in kind bringing it back to a tie. Only their voice was louder. It was now a fight–in the most literal sense of the word–for a third goal before the ref blew the final whistle. Saprissa broke La Liga's defense and was headed straight for the goal. A member of La Liga sacrificed himself and tripped the Sapprissa offender for a red card. The crowd took it out on us. As he walked off the field into the extended tunnel for his protection, he had his chin high and was yanking on his jersey in support for his team. The Saprissa fans were furious. And did I mention violent? They attempted to climb over the fence to attack the carded player, but were met with the business end of the riot police's night-sticks instead.
The game ended in a tie, probably the best outcome we gringos could have asked for. The Tico dad with us had told us we would be sleeping in the stadium if Saprissa had one. I can imagine it would be close to the same if they had lost as well. We waited for the stadium and streets to clear before we attempted our escape. Some lingering Saprissa fans continued to yell, flip us off, and urge us to fight them. They also decided to throw any trash they had with them at us both from our level and the balcony above. All the while I showed my pearly whites and interchanged between waving and the peace sign. Neither seemed to diffuse the situation, but I kept trying. A nearby Liga fan yelled at us in support, and we cheered back. A great moment of comfort to say the least.
Finally, the stadium had cleared enough to the point that we could safely move outside, where we were met by horse cops. We huddled under their wings of protection while we began coordinating our exit route with another policeman in a truck. 'L', 'G', 'A', and I decided that it would be to our benefit if we stripped our paint off. we began rubbing ourselves frantically and peeling of the acrylic from our skin. Not only was it less we had to do at home, it made us a little less of a target too. While continuing to scrub the paint off, we began to follow behind the police truck as he lead us safely to our bus. All fifty-seven of us made it on the bus, and made it home in one piece.
Giving all that you just read, I'm sure you are asking me what I was thinking. All I can say is that it was one of the best, worst decisions I have made and I would do it all over again. ¡Viva La Liga!
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