Som-Hi Barca: My Journey to the Nou Camp

It commenced with utter heartbreak at the Quarterfinals of the 1998 world cup. Frank De Boer’s Beautiful long ball reached Dennis Bergkamp, who controlled it with his right, cut inside and launched a pinpoint shot past the goalkeeper, giving the Netherlands the winning goal.

Heartbreak for Argentina. I was hooked.

My passion and love for the “beautiful game” was born.

Argentina remain my favorite international team 18 years since that goal, and i’ve experienced more heartbreak. But as a futbol aficionado, it is essential to root for a club team. Every fan has one.

Insert FC Barcelona

I began following FC Barcelona in 2005, when Brazilian legend Ronaldinho was hailed as the best player in the world. He crafted his wizardry at the Nou Camp and played with such joy. His style and flair endeared me to the team.

Most importantly, The way FC Barcelona play attracted me. The club plays futbol as if composing an opera. The pitch is the team’s open canvas, the stadium is a theater, the ball is the ink that creates the notes, and the audience are the delighted . Every player moves in unison. Plays are created with flair, technique, and class. It is the perfect composition.

As the years passed, I did not miss a game. Homework stayed unfinished if Barcelona played. I scheduled my college classes around the Champions League schedule, which meant no classes on Tuesday or Wednesday from 11:45 a.m. to 2:00 p.m. My employers received my annual “I can’t work due to religious reasons on Sunday” speech, all because I wanted to watch my team play.

I Dreamed of visiting Barcelona to watch the team in a competitive match. I wished for that match to be “El Clasico”, which is against bitter rivals Real Madrid and draws nearly 400 million viewers per game.

The only problem was the flight ticket prices, which were expensive especially for a college student. I prepared a plan to save up. I aimed for early 2012. Nope

2013. Nope. 2014. Nope.

I had my passport, I just did not have the funds.

Then it happened. I was driving home from night class when I received a Facebook notification from the website Travel Pirates.

$199 round trip flights from LAX to Stockholm it said, thanks to Scandinavian Airlines’ recent opening of international flights .

I arrived home, and purchased the flight. I reasoned that I could fly from Stockholm to Barcelona much cheaper.

Everything was in motion. I would get to see my favorite club, April 2nd, against bitter rivals Real Madrid.

What a dream.

It was the week of my departure, and I was packing up for the trip.

Then, my father appeared to have suffered what I thought was a serious medical issue six days before my flight.

I thought about canceling the trip altogether. I was torn on such a decision.

Just before I called to cancel, my father recovered. Apparently, it only seemed like a serious medical issue.

The coast was clear. I would fly into Stockholm from LAX on March 25th, then depart Via Brussel’s airlines to my destination, with a layover in Brussel’s airport.

I woke up March 22, logged on Twitter and saw a hashtag #PrayforBelgium. Then I read the headline.

Terrorist Bombings Strike Brussels.

Terrorists Targeted Brussels’ Airport that morning. I immediately remembered that I had a flight via that airport in three days.

Family members heard the news. They tried to convince me not to go, for fear of safety. I had about a millisecond of doubt, but then I thought.

“If not now, then when?”

I was able to reschedule to another flight.

I touched down in Barcelona on March 31. Everywhere I went, I saw people wearing the team jersey. Restaurants had places for regulars to bet on who would win the game. Team flag’s hung outside every apartment balcony.

The city was buzzing for anticipation. I was unable to sleep the night before the match.

Since I purchased my ticket through a third party reseller, (which is illegal in Spain), I had to pick it up, and the location provided was a rented out hotel.

When i arrived, they handed me an envelope which instead of a ticket contained a club member’s pass. The gentlemen gave me a strict warning.

“If anybody asks you how you got this membership, tell them it’s borrowed.”

I made my way to the stadium. Thousands of fans chanted team songs. The streets were a sea of Blaugrana.

I arrived to the stadium with time to spare. I showed the security guard the club member’s “socio card.” He immediately questioned how I obtained it.

“ My uncle let me borrow it.” I said.

“Are you sure?” replied the guard, looking dead into my eyes as if he knew I was lying.

“Yes.” He gave me another look, then let me in.

Once I was inside the stadium, I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was massive. Roughly 100,000 fans filled the stadium.

I arrived at my seat as the players took the pitch to have one last warmup before the match.

A tribute to Dutch and Barcelona legend Johan Cruyff was conducted, as he had passed away the week before. Each fan held a card with a color, part of a mosaic that together read “Gracies Johan”. A moment of silence ensued. People in the stands wept for Cruyff. It was surreal.

The club’s hymn blasted through the speakers. 100,000 people chanted in unison. The match was about to begin.

Once the ball rolled, it was a spectacle. In the first half, Barcelona were the far more dominant club and deserved a two goal cushion, but the score remained 0–0.

The second half was much more contested. Barcelona went ahead with a header from Gerard Pique, or simply known in the USA as Shakira’s boyfriend.

After the goal, Barcelona seemed to lose focus, which was rather odd.

I felt the tension in the stadium shift.

With a huge Champions League match in 3 days against Atletico de Madrid, and already 9 points ahead in the standings, it seemed that the club was content to play out to a draw.

Big mistake.

Real Madrid took advantage of Barcelona’s lack of focus and poor defending, equalizing 4 minutes later via Karim Benzema’s beautiful volley.

Then, in the dying minutes of the match, more poor defending led to another Real goal, this time by nemesis Cristiano Ronaldo. The game winner. Everyone in the stadium was shocked.

Real 2, Barcelona 1.

I was angry. I left after the match, walked about 2 miles, distraught that I had flown thousands of miles only for my beloved team to lose in such fashion.

Eventually, the pain of the loss wore off. It had to, considering the next match was in 3 days and was just as significant;

The quarterfinal of the Champions League against rival Atletico de Madrid.

I arrived to the stadium and noticed a huge difference in atmosphere to the one three days earelier.

This match was different. Their was an edge and angst that filled the stadium.

Atletico striked first, as Fernando Torres slotted a right shot past the keeper making it 1–0.

The stadium went silent. Everybody knew what would come next. Atletico, with a goal up, would defend to the death.

Barcelona went into halftime with a 1–0 deficit. Forty five more minutes remained.

The second half commenced, and Barcelona upped the pressure on the Atletico goal. 99,000 fans remained nervous, including myself.

Messi attempted an audacious overhead kick that nearly went in. Then Neymar’s shot hit the crossbar, oh so close.

Wave after wave of frantic attack by Barcelona led to nothing but shots on goal.

They were running out of time, and we all knew it.

Then, in the 63rd minute, Luis Suarez released all the tension in the stadium, casually tapping in a shot into the far lower corner for the goal.

He would add another goal 10 minutes later. Barcelona wound up winning 2–1.

After the match, I was ecstatic. It was the perfect way to end my trip. I returned home the later that week.

In retrospect, what began as a trip to see my favorite futbol club was so much more. As an aspiring sports journalist, the trip made me realize that I was making the correct career path.

I plan on going back, and hopefully, Barcelona win El Clasico.