200 Meters of Hell

SIn Avellaneda, 200 meters separate more than just two stadiums.
They divide belief. Memory. Identity.

On one side: the Estadio Libertadores de América – Ricardo Bochini. A red fortress—angular, defiant, heavy with legacy. Its lines are sharp, its silence loaded. Even empty, it feels full. Full of history, pride, and pressure. Photographing it is like entering a space that doesn’t welcome, but challenges.

Just across the street: El Cilindro, Racing Club’s home. It curves where the other cuts. The space opens, the light moves differently. At first glance, it feels softer—calmer. But there’s no less fire here. The passion simmers just beneath the surface, in the blue paint, in the echo of chants that never fully leave.

Between them lies a rivalry unlike any other. Two stadiums that breathe the same city air but speak entirely different languages.
This is not a contrast. It’s a collision.

These photographs were taken in that space between.
The narrow street.
The long shadow.
The 200 meters of hell that separate one dream from another.