Cabrera: La Casa Blanca

Today we have a special treat. One of our staff members, Carlos Cabrera, is writing for us live from Quito, Ecuador. Here you go:

Large steel gates, armed police officers, cement on the outside and in, numbered wooden doors, and dark hallways. If you don’t see the various street vendors selling jerseys, hats, and other fan paraphernalia leading up to the stadium, La Casa Blanca could be easily mistaken as a prison—that is until you exit the hallways and enter the arena.

La Casa Blanca, boasting a capacity of 45,000 persons is the home of Liga Deportiva Universitaria de Quito, or Liga, the most recognizable club soccer team in Ecuador. On the chilly, late afternoon of August 11, La Casa Blanca welcomed La Libertad de Paraguay. The match served as a qualifier for La Copa de Sudamerica (the elite tournament for club teams in South America). As I nestled into my suite and proceeded outside on the viewing balcony 45 minutes before the game’s start, I saw the massive and beautiful soccer field. There was a lower level encompassing the field with about 20 rows of red bleachers. The upper level compiled of suites on either side of the field, and more red bleachers behind the goals.

The suites are very personalized. A suite season ticket holder has the ability to do what he/she pleases with the décor. For example, one can add paintings, memorabilia, refurnish the inside, and more. After the game, the owner even locks the door with his own key. Also, fans that belong to suites are able to bring their own food and alcohol, rather than spending money at the stadium. This entire concept is very foreign to American sporting arenas, but something owners of teams might want to invest in because of its comfortable and personalized nature.

Minutes before the start of the match, more and more fans piled in. It was hard not to notice the fans behind Libertad’s goal. All wearing Liga gear, they were loud, yet organized—chant after chant, accompanied by drums and the occasional display of fire. Behind the other goal, more fans watched sitting, unlike their standing counterparts. This side was mixed with Liga fans and Libertad fans whom made the long trek northwest, through Bolivia and Peru to reach Quito, Ecuador. By midway through the first half, the stands were filled behind both goals. The lower level was filled from row 10 and up, due to the obstructed view in the lower seats. And almost every suite was filled with some viewers.

As for the game, Liga had multiple first half opportunities on crosses and nice play inside the 18-yard box, but had trouble finishing. Finally, number 13, Neicer Reasco scored off of a rebound inside the box in the 46^th minute. It was a beautiful one-timer, netting the bottom right corner. In the second half, it was easy to tell who the fan favorite was when number 12, Espinoso Carlos Luis or “Kinito” entered the game for the small, yet feisty center midfielder Vaca Edder. The second half consisted of many lost opportunities for Liga once again, and in the final minutes of the match Libertad had many close chances inside the box. However, Liga came out victorious 1-0 in the qualifier match. But it seems that soccer is the only sport where one team can be winning during a 0-0 tie, and a team can lose despite winning because of the forgone opportunities and importance of goal differential in qualifying and pool play. You with me? Then after the match, players happily greeted young fans, took pictures, and signed autographs. What were they driving? Chevrolets, of course. Maybe it’s because soccer players aren’t incredibly tall or muscular compared to the average human being like football or basketball players, but these athletes seemed happy and excited to greet their fans—something that rarely occurs in the U.S.

I had never been to a soccer match before, not even in the United States, but sitting there comfortably in the suite served as one of the best places to view a sporting event. Enjoying some local Ecuadorian beer, I couldn’t help but notice the passion that exists for Liga. Throughout the entire game, the fans behind the goal never sat down, drumming and chanting away, even occasionally throwing toilet paper at Libertad’s goalie, to his vocalized dismay. Then I realized, this is only one, small team located at the Earth’s equator in quaint Ecuador. This type of passion exists all around the world for each fan’s respective soccer team. The most appropriate way to describe the atmosphere is the likes of major U.S. college basketball or football game, but on crack. Even in the suites, you could hear whistles mocking Libertad, foul language flowing from the mouths of parents in front of their children, and countless screams and grunts—basically the exact opposite of disinterested, unknowledgeable fans in American skyboxes. It’s not that passion doesn’t exist at American sporting events; it’s simply that the passion at La Casa Blanca was incredibly different. Undoubtedly, this different, more exuberant and flamboyant passion derives itself from the Latin American, “in-your-face-type” culture.

In the end, La Casa Blanca turned out to be quite the opposite of its prison-like appearance. In fact, it’s a place where the soul can be freed, where nothing matters other than Liga. Then again, that’s exactly what sports are supposed to be, a sanctuary from everyday life, a place to escape both for athletes and fans. So, I urge you, readers, to visit La Casa Blanca before time passes. If you can’t make it to Quito, that’s fine. I’m sure there are thousands of other soccer sanctuaries waiting upon your arrival that perfectly fit the mold of La Casa Blanca.