At around 6pm on Sunday evening, an hour after the second leg of the Copa Libertadores final had been due to kick off, four hours after the game had, yet again, been postponed, a group of River Plate fans on the Subte [Buenos Aires’ underground trains] started up a slow, melancholic song, talking of attacks and pepper spray. Already the events of Saturday, what the Conmebol president, Alejandro Domínguez, described as “a disgrace”, have passed into legend: the game that wasn’t and, depending on the outcome of a meeting in Asunción, Paraguay on Tuesday, might never be.

Copa Libertadores: second leg of final called off again hours before kick-off Read more

The president of Argentina, Mauricio Macri, a former president of Boca Juniors, had tweeted when a superclásico final was confirmed that it was “an opportunity to show maturity and that we’ve changed, that we can play in peace”. So much for that.

Yet the truth is what happened on Saturday, when Boca’s players suffered the effects of tear gas after the windows of their bus were smashed, was not especially unusual for Argentinian football. It was extraordinary in terms of the profile of the game and the attention it received, but there were only five arrests.

Missiles were thrown, fans surged through security to force their way into the stadium, police fired tear gas and rubber bullets to disperse the crowds, and some of those leaving were attacked by those outside trying to take their tickets to use in the rearranged game, but by local standards that isn’t too bad. Only last Wednesday, fans of the second-division club All Boys fought running battles with police after conceding a late winner to their great rivals Atlanta.

Play Video 1:11 Copa Libertadores final suspended after violence erupts outside stadium – video

The lobby group Salvemos al Fútbol maintains a list of those who have died in football-related violence in the Argentinian game. The first was in July 1922, a child who fell from a “makeshift rostrum on a four-wheeler” after a game between Sporting Barracas and a touring Basque side. The most recent was a 20-year-old called Martín González, killed on 4 November after sustaining a head wound in clashes between rival hooligan groups of Gimnasia y Esgrima de Jujuy following the game against Deportivo Morón. He is listed as the 328th fatality, the sixth this year. There have been 93 in the past decade.

That’s why away fans were banned from Argentinian football in 2013 and why, when the ban was lifted in August, it was only partial, and away fans remain banned from games involving the five grandes. The sense on Saturday was of a police force that simply could not cope. Even before the game, when the mood was cheerily expectant, there were crushes at the barriers leading in to the funnels where cursory searches were conducted. Pregnant women, fans in wheelchairs and small children took their chances. One blind journalist was knocked to the ground. None of that is abnormal in Argentina.

The police’s role in Saturday’s trouble remains problematic. There has been a cut in their funding and the justice ministry has taken over certain responsibilities. It remains unclear whose decision it was for the escort leading the Boca bus to take the highly unusual decision to turn right down Avenida Monroe, where River fans habitually congregate, hemming the bus in and making it an easy target. The route is already the source of a dozen conspiracy theories.

Conmebol, also, must be the subject of scrutiny. If it really did try to coerce Boca to play the game on Saturday, when their players were still suffering the aftereffects of the tear gas, that is scandalous. Domínguez, at least, seemed willing to be self-critical.

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Only a day before the final was initially scheduled, in a suite at the Alvear Icon hotel in Buenos Aires, Domínguez had been cheerily talking of his plans to bring a more European sensibility to the Latin American game, of ensuring the gulf in quality between the Libertadores and the Champions League does not grow any greater.

Next year, rather than being two-legged, the final will be a one-off game in Santiago, Chile.

“They [River and Boca] cannot play with supporters of both teams in the same stadium,” he said. “For me, that is the past.

“That will never happen again. Changing the format to one final match, being organised by Conmebol [rather than the clubs], allows us to say you can come, it’s secure, wearing whatever team’s jersey, you can be there with the guys in the other jersey …” Good luck with that.

Yet Domínguez is too intelligent not to realise that the balance he must strike is a difficult one. The one advantage South American football still has over Europe is the sense of authenticity, the idea that this matters.

That is why videos of Boca training in a stadium so packed the local municipality closed it down on safety grounds went viral last Thursday. It is easy to be seduced by the colour, the passion. The problem is that in Argentina, that tends to come with violence. The reasons are manifold and extend far beyond football.

“How do we not lose our DNA?” Domínguez asked. “We think about that every time we make decisions. I will not tolerate more violence.

River fans attack on Boca bus halts Copa Libertadores final for 24 hours Read more

“Passion has nothing to do with violence. People might not understand those things could live apart, think that is part of our tradition. We can have passion, live crazy for our teams, but we will not allow violence.” Which sounds fine, but how on earth do you begin to change a culture so embedded?

And why do people care so much? What is the source of that passion? That, perhaps, is the most uncomfortable question of all. It is commonplace to discuss passion for a football club as an unquestionable good, but how healthy is it, really, for people to tie their self-esteem quite so tightly to the results of a football club?

What does that say for the other institutions from which meaning might be derived?

That, in fairness, is almost certainly beyond the scope of Conmebol to fix and so the problem comes to seem irresolvable. Argentina and Conmebol were given the chance to stage the ultimate final, to inaugurate Domínguez’s new age, and they blew it.

All the worst stereotypes of football on the continent were reinforced. The consequences of that will linger. What incentive is there for Uefa to work with Conmebol on changes to the Club World Cup? Why would a promising young talent stay in Argentina one minute more than he needs to?

The mood on Sunday, in the end, was one of sadness as the final to end all finals fell victim to familiar Argentinian weaknesses. The final may yet still be played. It may be brilliantly dramatic. But by then who, really, will care?