Before I came to South America I only had one must-do thing on my list.
Machu Picchu? Nah. Ciudad Perdida? Nope. The Salar de Uyuni? Take it or leave it.
No, I was going to do whatever it took to watch the best football club in South America: Club de Deportes Everton.
The Liverpudlian Everton travelled to South America in the early part of the 20th Century on a mini tour. They went to Chile, Argentina and Uruguay - and the locals were so impressed with the visit of the world's greatest football club that they decided to form their own Evertons.
When I checked the fixtures a few weeks ago I saw that CD Everton were playing an away game at Concepcion on the weekend I arrived in Santiago.
I gave serious thought to travelling all the way south to Patagonia to watch the game, but it was hundreds of miles on the road to a place currently enjoying freezing temperatures. And thank god I didn't - Everton lost 4-0.
So I had to chill my boots and wait for the following weekend when Everton would play at home in Viña del Mar.
Viña is just up the coast from Valparaiso - 10 minutes in a bus - and I got there at around midday. Here's a pic of 'the Chilean Monaco' in all its faded glory:
I went to a hostel I'd found online and got a private room. Downstairs smelled of damp and fustiness, but luckily my habitacion was just about presentable.
My first job was to go and book myself onto a bus for the following day. After about two weeks in the country I'd decided to leave Chile, for Argentina.
I took a long walk to the bus station and bought a 15 quid ticket for the next morning. Sorted.
Afterwards I had time to kill so wandered to the outskirts of the city in order to get a look at the stadium. The match wasn't until the evening, but I was curious to see the ground, check the match was actually happening, etc.
On the way I passed an advert probably more suited to Sloane Square than the outskirts of Viña del Mar:
Turn your nose up at the people around you in a Snob Sweater.
I got to the ground by following the blue-and-yellow painted lamp posts that led up to the ground:
At this point I felt like a kid at Christmas. I've been waiting months to visit this club - a club I feel a lot of attachment to, even though I'd yet to see them play at home.
I took a wander round to the main entrance and walked out to where the dignitaries sit. I asked the security guard if I could visit the changing rooms but he unfortunately gave me the brush off, in the nicest possible way.
It was still a few hours til kick-off so I walked back to the hostel, had some dinner, got my stuff together and headed back.
As an Evertonian who goes to a lot of matches back home, it felt pretty strange to be walking up to a match taking place halfway round the world and seeing lots of Chilean people in Everton hats and shirts.
I'd loved to have chatted to them about my love of Everton, their love of (a different) Everton, and the history of the two clubs. Unfortunately, through no-one's fault but my own, my Spanish hasn't really progressed very far out here so conversations are often a painful experience.
I passed the first unofficial merchandise stall and bought my first football-related garment of the trip so far. I'm travelling very lightly so have just about no free space in my bag. I've been tempted to buy various shirts and other tat from the matches I've been to, but have had to decline.
However, this was a different matter. I knew I wanted paraphenalia from CD Everton - a shirt especially. Unfortunately the merchandiser didn't have any of those, so I got a sunhat instead:
Up at the stadium, the club shop kiosk was closed and none of the other merch men were selling shirts. Gah!
I bought a ticket for a few quid from the Boleteria...
It gave me entrance to the stand behind the goal where Everton's hardcore support stood. Now this may sound a bit OTT but I literally had goosebumps walking through the entrance at the back of the stand, seeing all the blue and yellow banners and the pitch under the floodlights.
A few years ago a group of Everton fans from back home travelled to South America on a bonding mission. The aim was to extend a hand of friendship from the original Everton to the clubs it inspired in Chile, Argentina and Uruguay.
Since that successful jaunt, the link between Everton and CD Everton has continued to be strengthened. Last year, the Chileans accepted an invitation from Everton to fly over to Liverpool and play a match at Goodison - a game I went to (Everton 2-0 Everton).
Back in Viña, and CD Everton have unfortunately fallen on hard times. Champions of Chile's top division as recently as 2008, the club now find themselves bottom of the second division struggling for their lives.
But the season is still in its infancy, the club is now under the management of a popular guy (Figueroa) and, while the league table doesn't lie, a closer look tells an interesting story.
Before the game against San Marcos - which I was at - Everton had actually drawn three of their first five games. The problem was that they had yet to win.
The fans in the Cerro behind the goal were in defiant mood. Their club is traditionally one of the top five or six clubs in the country and - win, lose or draw; top or bottom - they were there to support their team.
I got in about 15 minutes before the start, and already the fans were bellowing out their songs, the obligatory brass band playing their supporting role.
I've seen some great fans at the matches I've been to out here, but considering the position that the club find themselves in, Everton's support was immense.
As the teams came out several fireworks shot up into the black night sky:
I got a first video of the fans in full voice, and inadvertently captured several latecomers rushing in to take their spot in the singing section: http://www.flickr.com/photos/26607248@N08/5743601933
And then they did something that was a first for me at football out here - unfurled a humungous banner from the back of the stand all the way down to the front, before pogo-ing around underneath it:
The locals probably wondered what a pale-faced gringo was doing beaming at the sight of these supporters doing their thing, but I couldn't keep the smile off my face. I was hoping this Everton had some great fans, and they were some of the best I've seen.
On the fencing behind the goal teenage boys were clambering over the razor wire to expertly place their massive banners in a patchwork quilt of yellow and blue:
At the back of the stand was the same: almost every inch taken up with banners. Great stuff.
The game kicked off with Everton attacking our end in the first half. After just five minutes a looping cross from the right wing was headed back across goal and Everton's ponytailed striker leapt above his marker to send a header into the far corner. Woo!
The fans went nuts as the players raced over to our corner to celebrate:
Within 10 seconds of the ball finding the net, the humungous banner had been unfurled again from the back of the stand.
Everton then spent the next 15 minutes dominating their opponents, whose handful of fans had travelled down all the way from Arica in the very north of the country:
Unfortunately the Ruleteros (Everton's nickname, because of Viña del Mar's famous gambling - roulette - reputation) couldn't capitalise on the pressure they were exerting. Almost inevitably San Marcos broke away through Everton's ropey defence and their striker smacked the ball past the keeper. 1-1.
When the equaliser went in, I saw one of the funniest - and most shocking - events I've witnessed at the football out here. A fan in the San Marcos section ran along the small strip of terracing while blasting a huge plume of smoke into the air from a fire extinguisher.
How he managed to smuggle a full-size fire extinguisher into the ground is beyond me, and I thought it was comical that the police just stood there and did nothing. If I blasted a fire extinguisher into the air back at Goodison I'd probably be banned from all football grounds for life.
In the second half San Marcos got another jammy breakaway goal. It was more than they deserved and, again, was due to some awful defending from the home side. It's easy to see why they're struggling.
But Everton's midfield and strikers were a different matter. They have some skilful footballers, a great work ethic and look far too good to be in the position they're in.
And no, I'm not being biased.
With the clock ticking down it was turning into another depressing night for the Ruleteros and their magnificent fans.
But they huffed and they puffed, and their pressure eventually paid its rewards. A scrambled equaliser led to the biggest celebrations since those tactful Americans started partying outside the White House on the day Bin Laden was killed.
Not the greatest quality video you'll ever see, but you get the idea:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/26607248@N08/5744158804
The humungous banner was again unfurled (I'm annoyed I didn't take a video of that), and the fans at the other end of the ground produced one of their own:
At the end, Everton came so close to nicking a winner but their striker miscued at the far post when it looked easier to score. Damn.
So yet another draw, now 4 in 6 games, but from where I was sitting the signs of a recovery were obvious. They played with desire and hunger from the first minute to the last - determined to get that elusive first win for their new boss and their loyal fans. It will come.
On the way out I walked under the strip banners so beloved by South American football fans:
Leaving the stand, most fans wanted to walk back round the side of the stadium - taking the shortest route to the exit and to Viña beyond.
However, the police in their wisdom had blockaded the way and were making all of us scramble up a steep hill and take the long way round.
Some of the fans started to get angry, first hurling insults at the 10 or so policemen, and then hurling rocks. They were finding the rocks on the hillside and were lobbing them down at the now-sheltering police. It could have got pretty ugly but thankfully the tension dissipated and everyone did as they were told.
In desperate need of a souvenir shirt I decided to walk round to the players' entrance. I hoped one of the players might be kind enough to give their muddy kit to this poor gringo who'd travelled thousands of miles to see this game.
Fat chance. The players were like most players - happy to pose for a quick snap or scribble something uninteligible on a piece of paper, but no shirts were coming our way. Hey ho.
I got a snap with one of the defenders who I've mercilessly slagged off in this post:
Me? Two faced?
And also got one of the beleagured Senor Figueroa signing autographs:
At half-time I had spoken to a fan who told me that there was a 'House of Everton' in the centre of the city where I could get a shirt.
This annoyed me, as earlier in the day I had asked two or three people if there was an Everton shop in Viña - or at least a sport shop selling Everton shirts - and they all said no.
Grr.
My bus to Mendoza was booked for 9am the following morning, before the House of Everton would be open (especially on a Sunday) so I needed to decide whether to forfeit the 15 pound bus ticket - and a night in Mendoza - for an Everton shirt.
It wasn't a difficult decision.
The next morning I enjoyed a lie-in as a bus left for Mendoza with one spare seat on board. I walked to the House of Everton, outside which I got more goosebumps. This is officially the best door in South America - and South America has got some very attractive doors:
I wasn't going to be deterred from my mission though. Despite it being a Sunday and most of the city's shops being closed, I walked and walked around the commercial district downtown looking for one of these mythical Everton shirts.
A few hours later, patience wearing thin, I came across an Artesanal Market selling the usual tourist-friendly bric-a-brac. Tucked halfway down one of the corridors was a small shop selling football-related stuff.
In among the Colo Colo ashtrays and Universidad Catolica pennants was the famous blue and yellow of an Everton shirt. As the legendary Alan Partridge said: Back of the net.
It was a fake shirt, but I didn't care about that - I just wanted to have it to wear in my final month, and to take back to England with me. Here's me wearing it a few days later in Mendoza:
Machu Picchu? Nah. Ciudad Perdida? Nope. The Salar de Uyuni? Take it or leave it.
No, I was going to do whatever it took to watch the best football club in South America: Club de Deportes Everton.
The Liverpudlian Everton travelled to South America in the early part of the 20th Century on a mini tour. They went to Chile, Argentina and Uruguay - and the locals were so impressed with the visit of the world's greatest football club that they decided to form their own Evertons.
When I checked the fixtures a few weeks ago I saw that CD Everton were playing an away game at Concepcion on the weekend I arrived in Santiago.
I gave serious thought to travelling all the way south to Patagonia to watch the game, but it was hundreds of miles on the road to a place currently enjoying freezing temperatures. And thank god I didn't - Everton lost 4-0.
So I had to chill my boots and wait for the following weekend when Everton would play at home in Viña del Mar.
Viña is just up the coast from Valparaiso - 10 minutes in a bus - and I got there at around midday. Here's a pic of 'the Chilean Monaco' in all its faded glory:
I went to a hostel I'd found online and got a private room. Downstairs smelled of damp and fustiness, but luckily my habitacion was just about presentable.
My first job was to go and book myself onto a bus for the following day. After about two weeks in the country I'd decided to leave Chile, for Argentina.
I took a long walk to the bus station and bought a 15 quid ticket for the next morning. Sorted.
Afterwards I had time to kill so wandered to the outskirts of the city in order to get a look at the stadium. The match wasn't until the evening, but I was curious to see the ground, check the match was actually happening, etc.
On the way I passed an advert probably more suited to Sloane Square than the outskirts of Viña del Mar:
Turn your nose up at the people around you in a Snob Sweater.
I got to the ground by following the blue-and-yellow painted lamp posts that led up to the ground:
At this point I felt like a kid at Christmas. I've been waiting months to visit this club - a club I feel a lot of attachment to, even though I'd yet to see them play at home.
I took a wander round to the main entrance and walked out to where the dignitaries sit. I asked the security guard if I could visit the changing rooms but he unfortunately gave me the brush off, in the nicest possible way.
It was still a few hours til kick-off so I walked back to the hostel, had some dinner, got my stuff together and headed back.
As an Evertonian who goes to a lot of matches back home, it felt pretty strange to be walking up to a match taking place halfway round the world and seeing lots of Chilean people in Everton hats and shirts.
I'd loved to have chatted to them about my love of Everton, their love of (a different) Everton, and the history of the two clubs. Unfortunately, through no-one's fault but my own, my Spanish hasn't really progressed very far out here so conversations are often a painful experience.
I passed the first unofficial merchandise stall and bought my first football-related garment of the trip so far. I'm travelling very lightly so have just about no free space in my bag. I've been tempted to buy various shirts and other tat from the matches I've been to, but have had to decline.
However, this was a different matter. I knew I wanted paraphenalia from CD Everton - a shirt especially. Unfortunately the merchandiser didn't have any of those, so I got a sunhat instead:
Up at the stadium, the club shop kiosk was closed and none of the other merch men were selling shirts. Gah!
I bought a ticket for a few quid from the Boleteria...
It gave me entrance to the stand behind the goal where Everton's hardcore support stood. Now this may sound a bit OTT but I literally had goosebumps walking through the entrance at the back of the stand, seeing all the blue and yellow banners and the pitch under the floodlights.
A few years ago a group of Everton fans from back home travelled to South America on a bonding mission. The aim was to extend a hand of friendship from the original Everton to the clubs it inspired in Chile, Argentina and Uruguay.
Since that successful jaunt, the link between Everton and CD Everton has continued to be strengthened. Last year, the Chileans accepted an invitation from Everton to fly over to Liverpool and play a match at Goodison - a game I went to (Everton 2-0 Everton).
Back in Viña, and CD Everton have unfortunately fallen on hard times. Champions of Chile's top division as recently as 2008, the club now find themselves bottom of the second division struggling for their lives.
But the season is still in its infancy, the club is now under the management of a popular guy (Figueroa) and, while the league table doesn't lie, a closer look tells an interesting story.
Before the game against San Marcos - which I was at - Everton had actually drawn three of their first five games. The problem was that they had yet to win.
The fans in the Cerro behind the goal were in defiant mood. Their club is traditionally one of the top five or six clubs in the country and - win, lose or draw; top or bottom - they were there to support their team.
I got in about 15 minutes before the start, and already the fans were bellowing out their songs, the obligatory brass band playing their supporting role.
I've seen some great fans at the matches I've been to out here, but considering the position that the club find themselves in, Everton's support was immense.
As the teams came out several fireworks shot up into the black night sky:
I got a first video of the fans in full voice, and inadvertently captured several latecomers rushing in to take their spot in the singing section: http://www.flickr.com/photos/26607248@N08/5743601933
And then they did something that was a first for me at football out here - unfurled a humungous banner from the back of the stand all the way down to the front, before pogo-ing around underneath it:
The locals probably wondered what a pale-faced gringo was doing beaming at the sight of these supporters doing their thing, but I couldn't keep the smile off my face. I was hoping this Everton had some great fans, and they were some of the best I've seen.
On the fencing behind the goal teenage boys were clambering over the razor wire to expertly place their massive banners in a patchwork quilt of yellow and blue:
At the back of the stand was the same: almost every inch taken up with banners. Great stuff.
The game kicked off with Everton attacking our end in the first half. After just five minutes a looping cross from the right wing was headed back across goal and Everton's ponytailed striker leapt above his marker to send a header into the far corner. Woo!
The fans went nuts as the players raced over to our corner to celebrate:
Within 10 seconds of the ball finding the net, the humungous banner had been unfurled again from the back of the stand.
Everton then spent the next 15 minutes dominating their opponents, whose handful of fans had travelled down all the way from Arica in the very north of the country:
Unfortunately the Ruleteros (Everton's nickname, because of Viña del Mar's famous gambling - roulette - reputation) couldn't capitalise on the pressure they were exerting. Almost inevitably San Marcos broke away through Everton's ropey defence and their striker smacked the ball past the keeper. 1-1.
When the equaliser went in, I saw one of the funniest - and most shocking - events I've witnessed at the football out here. A fan in the San Marcos section ran along the small strip of terracing while blasting a huge plume of smoke into the air from a fire extinguisher.
How he managed to smuggle a full-size fire extinguisher into the ground is beyond me, and I thought it was comical that the police just stood there and did nothing. If I blasted a fire extinguisher into the air back at Goodison I'd probably be banned from all football grounds for life.
In the second half San Marcos got another jammy breakaway goal. It was more than they deserved and, again, was due to some awful defending from the home side. It's easy to see why they're struggling.
But Everton's midfield and strikers were a different matter. They have some skilful footballers, a great work ethic and look far too good to be in the position they're in.
And no, I'm not being biased.
With the clock ticking down it was turning into another depressing night for the Ruleteros and their magnificent fans.
But they huffed and they puffed, and their pressure eventually paid its rewards. A scrambled equaliser led to the biggest celebrations since those tactful Americans started partying outside the White House on the day Bin Laden was killed.
Not the greatest quality video you'll ever see, but you get the idea:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/26607248@N08/5744158804
The humungous banner was again unfurled (I'm annoyed I didn't take a video of that), and the fans at the other end of the ground produced one of their own:
At the end, Everton came so close to nicking a winner but their striker miscued at the far post when it looked easier to score. Damn.
So yet another draw, now 4 in 6 games, but from where I was sitting the signs of a recovery were obvious. They played with desire and hunger from the first minute to the last - determined to get that elusive first win for their new boss and their loyal fans. It will come.
On the way out I walked under the strip banners so beloved by South American football fans:
Leaving the stand, most fans wanted to walk back round the side of the stadium - taking the shortest route to the exit and to Viña beyond.
However, the police in their wisdom had blockaded the way and were making all of us scramble up a steep hill and take the long way round.
Some of the fans started to get angry, first hurling insults at the 10 or so policemen, and then hurling rocks. They were finding the rocks on the hillside and were lobbing them down at the now-sheltering police. It could have got pretty ugly but thankfully the tension dissipated and everyone did as they were told.
In desperate need of a souvenir shirt I decided to walk round to the players' entrance. I hoped one of the players might be kind enough to give their muddy kit to this poor gringo who'd travelled thousands of miles to see this game.
Fat chance. The players were like most players - happy to pose for a quick snap or scribble something uninteligible on a piece of paper, but no shirts were coming our way. Hey ho.
I got a snap with one of the defenders who I've mercilessly slagged off in this post:
Me? Two faced?
And also got one of the beleagured Senor Figueroa signing autographs:
At half-time I had spoken to a fan who told me that there was a 'House of Everton' in the centre of the city where I could get a shirt.
This annoyed me, as earlier in the day I had asked two or three people if there was an Everton shop in Viña - or at least a sport shop selling Everton shirts - and they all said no.
Grr.
My bus to Mendoza was booked for 9am the following morning, before the House of Everton would be open (especially on a Sunday) so I needed to decide whether to forfeit the 15 pound bus ticket - and a night in Mendoza - for an Everton shirt.
It wasn't a difficult decision.
The next morning I enjoyed a lie-in as a bus left for Mendoza with one spare seat on board. I walked to the House of Everton, outside which I got more goosebumps. This is officially the best door in South America - and South America has got some very attractive doors:
Unfortunately there was no-one there and the door was shut. Damnit.
I walked round the side of the building to find another door...
...but this only led to a rickety old basketball court which was set up to house some sort of religious ceremony later that day.
There was not a person to be seen, and nor in the small annexe on the other side of the house - a room which housed Everton's trophies:
I'd given up a perfectly good bus ticket and booked myself another night in Viña (which isn't a place you'd hurry back to visit) in order to get a shirt from this place but there was no shop - and nobody - to be seen.I wasn't going to be deterred from my mission though. Despite it being a Sunday and most of the city's shops being closed, I walked and walked around the commercial district downtown looking for one of these mythical Everton shirts.
A few hours later, patience wearing thin, I came across an Artesanal Market selling the usual tourist-friendly bric-a-brac. Tucked halfway down one of the corridors was a small shop selling football-related stuff.
In among the Colo Colo ashtrays and Universidad Catolica pennants was the famous blue and yellow of an Everton shirt. As the legendary Alan Partridge said: Back of the net.
It was a fake shirt, but I didn't care about that - I just wanted to have it to wear in my final month, and to take back to England with me. Here's me wearing it a few days later in Mendoza:
With that job done I could enjoy the rest of the day and night in Viña. Phew.
It's not the most exciting place on earth. Probably somewhere that's got a decent buzz in the height of the summer, when its casino and waterfront attract thousands of tourists, but in the gloom of Autumn it felt a bit dead.
I took a walk along the waterfront...
...had a final expensive Chilean dinner and went to bed. In the morning I got a taxi to the bus station and finally boarded the bus to Argentina.
It's a pity they didn't win, but watching the Chilean Everton out in Chile was easily one of the most memorable football experiences of my life.
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| The Chilean version of walking up Goodison Road for a night match |
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| Penned in |
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| The best football flag in South America |