Home 2009 – Mitre
The country
OK, so I’m a little reticent to write anything even vaguely uncomplimentary about El Salvador given just how trigger-happy the inhabitants of this small Central American nation can be, a trait laid bare by the national homicide rate – the world’s highest – which peaked in 2015 at a quite staggering 104 murders per 100,000 citizens and proved so damaging to the country’s image that the statisticians responsible were all rounded up and shot. Efforts to stamp out gun culture and gang violence amongst the younger generation have also largely fallen on deaf ears – probably due to a lack of protective muffs at the firing range – while education in general continues to suffer from a lack of funding and resources, most notably blackboard chalk, as this is usually put to use elsewhere.
A tragically common sight on Salvadoran street corners, in school playgrounds and at family barbecues.
As if further proof were needed that Salvadorans may be just a tad unhinged, then look no further than the annual Fireball Festival held every August in the town of Nejapa, where participants hurl very real flaming projectiles at one another with a vigour akin to Ryu and Ken from Street Fighter at the end of a particularly messy lads’ night out.
Nominally, this festival, in all its fiery, ‘risk-assessment be damned’ glory, exists to commemorate the eruption of a nearby volcano in 1922. Realistically, bearing in mind the questionable lucidity on display, you get the impression that such antics would also be utilised to mark the opening of a supermarket (“clean up in aisles 1-54”), leisure centre or a brand new, soon to be overflowing burns unit at the local hospital.
With a population exceeding 6.4 million, El Salvador is the most crowded nation in the Americas, with the majority identifying as Mestizos, i.e. a mixture of European (mostly Spanish) and indigenous blood. Of the region’s native tribes, by far the most prevalent are the Pipil people, who contrary to their name, weren’t strictly speaking ‘people people’, indulging as they did in things like human sacrifice, slavery and sending their own troops into battle clad in cotton armour (no, really), which was so thick and absorbent that crossing any body of water was always ill-advised, especially if the soldiers harboured ambitions of getting back to their feet when knocked down.
Not that the invading Spaniards had it all their own way. In fact, unlike other Mesoamerican groups like the Aztecs and the Maya who viewed the Conquistadors as gods, the Pipil were under no such illusions and actually booted them out of their territory twice in the 1520s. In one incidence they even pilfered Spanish guns and then turned them on their occupiers, showcasing a resourcefulness that may ultimately have saved their civilisation had it been shared by the dunderheads tasked with designing their war kit.
Sadly, this complete lack of foresight heralding an absolute massacre is a recurring theme in Salvadoran history, case in point the national team’s epic misadventures at the 1982 World Cup in Spain, where their 10-1 thrashing by Hungary became – and remains as of April 2018 – the heaviest defeat in finals history. This infamous result came about, in part, due to some baffling penny-pinching from the Football Federation* that necessitated a 72 hour flight from San Salvador to the tournament base in Alicante via Guatemala, the Dominican Republic and Madrid, meaning the players arrived in Spain later than any other squad, utterly jet-lagged and in no condition to put up any resistance, which of course they didn’t.
Four days later and suitably refreshed, the team put in a vastly improved performance during a 1-0 loss against Belgium before concluding their campaign with an honourable 2-0 defeat against reigning champions Argentina, results that seemingly paint their Hungarian hammering as an aberration, brought about by farcical preparation and not a true reflection on the players abilities. Still, you try telling those mean old record books, and besides, fun facts are always far more fun when you remove minor inconveniences such as context.
*As a further cost-cutting measure, El Salvador’s squad consisted of just 20 players instead of the permitted 23. They also had to borrow training kit and balls having neglected to bring the requisite amount of either. Basically, the whole thing was a complete shambles.
What’s often forgotten, owing to the magnitude of this loss, is that 1982 was not El Salvador’s sole dalliance with the World Cup finals. In fact they’d debuted twelve years prior in 1970, and while the team didn’t exactly distinguish themselves (three straight defeats and not a single goal scored), they could at least divert some of the blame towards a bizarre refereeing howler, whereby they were awarded a free-kick against Mexico only for their opponents to quickly take it instead, before breaking away to score. Bizarrely, the officials allowed the goal to stand, with the Mexicans eventually strolling to a 4-0 victory, while the Salvadorans, incensed by the injustice of it all, took to hoofing the ball into the crowd from every subsequent kickoff in a protracted display of petulance. All in all not a great day at the office, except perhaps for those whose weekend accumulators had predicted an unusually high number of throw ins.
The shirt
Getting hold of a 100% legit El Salvador shirt is far more bother than it has any right to be. For starters, ebay (specifically the US version) is absolutely saturated with fakes, varying between dubious copies of designs the team actually wore and original creations so tacky, and with such a cheap souvenir shop vibe, they might as well come with a free shot glass and fridge magnet.
Also, I’d been waiting for this specific shirt, made by English manufacturers Mitre, to become available in that elusive combination of affordable and authentic for ages, principally because it’s one of the very few genuine El Salvador shirts that isn’t deathly dull to look at, thanks to the cheeky pinstripes and prominent national emblem that give it some proper character. Luckily, one eventually popped up on ebay Mexico, and although the badge has a rather bedraggled look due to the seller crumpling the shirt inside the package in a manner that suggests he should never, ever be left alone with laundry, everything else appears to be in order and I’m confident this passes the authenticity test.
Quick update; The Salvadorans’ contract with Mitre came to an end recently and they’ve subsequently moved over to Umbro. Sadly, their first effort (pictured below) might just be the most boring international shirt I’ve ever seen. Honestly, they couldn’t even be arsed with a badge, instead printing the country’s initials, which offers the dual embarrassment to wearers of looking awful and having people mistake them for fans of Ed Sheeran.
