“Is everybody in? Is everybody in? Is everybody in? The ceremony is about to begin. The entertainment for this evening is not new, you've seen this entertainment through and through you have seen your birth, your life, your death....you may recall all the rest. Did you have a good world when you died? Enough to base a movie on?”. (Jim Morrison)
A friend of mine and I were discussing how time seems to slow down when you are looking forward to something. I asked, what do you look forward to? He answered: a birthday. What about you? he countered, and being a teacher my answer was obviously: Vacation!!!
After a moment of contemplating our beer as it warmed in the mugs on the table we exclaimed at the same time, “PAYDAY!!!”. After a laugh my friend said, “But after all that waiting, time goes by too quickly. The birthday elation passes, the days of practicing doing nothing come to an end, and the money vanishes spent on bills and family.” Beer makes my friend eloquent and introspective. A beerhall Borges.
What is something I find myself looking forward to? Family vacations excluded, hands down the answer has to be my bimonthly trip to “la Guarida del Rebaño”, the majestic Akron Stadium. It is quite strange how time slows to a snail’s pace in the week previous to match day. Life becomes a monotonous routine as the hours and minutes rumble by. Come Saturday, time accelerates, minutes rush by as I prepare everything for “la previa”.
My partners in crime, my two sons, help load the back of the car. I cry out to them “Cooler with ice and beverages?”, “Check Jefe!”, “La botanita?”, “Alitas, papas, cacahuates, en orden Jefe!”, “Table and chairs?”, “Check!”. They say I’m paranoid, that I live in the tomorrow, so that I need to slow down. Whatever, get in the car, we are late, there will be traffic. Juegan las Chivas!
We get in the car, time slows again as we drive off. One kilometer, 5 kilometers, 10. From the back the youngest of my sons asks “y los Chivabonos ‘apa'?”. Brakes screech, I throw my small Japanese hatchback into an hermano Almada U-turn as, Matrix like, objects, untethered, forgotten by the laws of physics, fly by in slow motion, to land in new dark recesses, as the car rights itself and takes a new path back to the house, we are Speedy Gonzalez and the Correcaminos wrapped into one!!!
Breaks screech, a quick scramble, flashlike I run into the house, into the kitchen, I find the cards in the cupboard above the coffee pot and rush out to see my sons giving each other “the eye”. The eldest mouths “Te dije ca…”. No time for reprimands. I resettle myself and get back into the “hoy juega el Rebaño” mindset. Plus, we were on time. It is 5:30 and the game starts at 9.
Too early? If you think I exaggerate you have never been to a Chivas game. In the 8 years that I have had season tickets there has always been a flow and ebb in the Chivahermanos. But the true brothers, we can’t wait to get to the stadium. Home. Pfft. I would camp there if I could and not look weird doing it. We are a special breed. A bit too critical of our team in some peoples opinion.
But there is a special kind of magic in the air when we are off to see our Rebaño Sagrado. The faithful old guard constant, analytical, stubborn in our ways. We follow a pattern. Stuck in our ways. Now, the new crowd who are now filling the stadium worry me. They come. The 'Villamelones'. Fans of fads, not passionate for the mystique of the 'Old Guard' who gather religiously to pay homage to the club.
The old School. We are a family. We greet each other with affection. We shout our hellos and invite strangers to come share a drink and chat up the game. Those of us who are in “the know”, we want to conserve that sense of family, of belonging, cause we were all new once. Those worthy will follow the traditions. The others will go on to the next fad. Ahí se ven.
I have to go fight for space in Parking Section Seven Green. Its ridiculous. This is my space!!! I set up shop and wait for los del Siete Verde. My boys set out the chairs and the hielera. Music blasts from the car speakers to mingle with the sounds floating through the evening air. Banda, Rock, Mariachi, House. A mix of old and new. The sound of music, laughter and loud conversations. Life fills the once empty parking lot.
One by one we gather, Gera, Vico, Gia, Chepo, Carlos, Shin, Chelo y Chago. The Siete Verde Faithful. The places are set. The food is gathered. The libations shared. The magic starts. We share our days. Discuss our work and our play. Catch up on our lives away from futbol. Time seems to slow down as we joke and gossip. We move through time as through water. Afraid to cause too many ripples that will break the magic. Thirty minutes pass, we join the flow of time travelers as they move towards the bajío zapopano.
Its wide green spaces beckon to us. We come to shatter its quietude. We come to join in the festivity. A celebration to be held for the time travelers who have made their way to this quiet valley to not only share in libations and festivities. We gather to stop time. We gather to relive the past and hope for the future. We come to pay homage to el Rebaño Sagrado.
