Looking for Karim Ansarifard: The Sticker Collectors of Buenos Aires

Juan Avalos and his seven-year-old son Tomás arrive early at Buenos Aires’ Rivadavia Park. It’s raining. They’ve come here to exchange World Cup stickers: Tomás hopes to get rid of some of his duplicates, but—far more important—he’s also hoping to get his hands on the last stickers he needs to complete his album. He needs 15, including one for Iranian player Karim Ansarifard.

None of Tomás’ friends at school have an extra Ansarifard sticker or any of the others to spare. It was the man who works at a newstand in Juan and Tomás’  neighborhood who gave them the idea to go elsewhere in the city: "Try to change them at Rivadavia Park on Saturday morning," he said.

Within minutes, Juan finds a man waiting for sticker collectors. He’s got a list of sticker numbers, and of the most sought-after ones. Soon parents, grandparents, uncles and aunts start crossing out numbers on their own lists, eager to help their young relatives complete their albums.

For three decades Rivadavia Park, in the Caballito neighborhood of Buenos Aires, has been the place to buy second hand books and magazines. Stamp collectors go there to exchange their wares. And, every four years, World Cup stickers are swapped there too.

But this year, things are different. Sticker fanatics aren’t just rushing to Rivadavia Park. Thanks to Facebook, sticker exchanges are popping up everywhere, in all corners of the city. Over the last few weekends, thousands of people have met across Buenos Aires, trying to complete the 639-sticker album without having to buy another Panini World Cup sticker set.

Federico Saenz set up the the “World Cup stickers collectors" page on Facebook. Since the 2002 World Cup, which was co-hosted by South Korea and Japan, he’s taken a keen interest in Panini’s official FIFA World Cup stickers. “Sticker fever took off,” Saenz says, now 33, so he was moved by collectors’ excitement to launch the page ahead of this year's championship. It has around 700 members, who share advice on collecting and spread the news about where the next exchange will take place. They also help organize exchanges, and suggest some of them be rescheduled so that fans can watch the opening games of the World Cup. When there are calls for meetings to be rescheduled, members take a vote: for some, at least during the initial group stage of the World Cup, stickers are more important than the games themselves (the exception to this, of course, is when Argentina plays—that always takes priorirty). 

Nicholas Sallustro heads up Panini Argentina, the world’s biggest sticker company. "Kids always collected them. But for this World Cup, many young adults have joined in too”. He also talks about the spontaneous meetings all over Buenos Aires, saying that he's heard people meet at shopping malls, fast food restaurants and even places you wouldn’t expect, like butchers.

One of the main reasons these exchanges are being set up is the sheer cost of collecting the full 2014 World Cup set. Juan says he’s spent about about 700 pesos ($70) so far. “The exchange system saved my life,” he says, “And my pocket! We are not far off; we got 50 last week and today we hope to complete it".

According to mathematicians Yvan Sylvail and Sandy Velenikson from the University of Geneva, a collector would have to buy 899 separate boxes or packets of stickers to fill the album with each of the player’s photo cards. Their study Paninimania: sticker rarity and cost-effective strategy, explains that if 10 people pool their resources and share boxes or packets, only 144 need to be purchased. That’s approximately the number of sticker packs Juan bought for his son.

Within half an hour of arriving at the park, Tomás  is anxious and excited. His dad has already found 14 of the 15 missing stickers. Now they just have to find someone who has sticker number 467, Iranian player Karim Ansarifard. The problem is that the number of stickers Juan and Tomás have to exchange is now very small: they’ll be lucky to find someone with the sought-after Ansarifard card, and even luckier if they have a sticker that person needs. Juan refuses to go to people who can offer the card he needs for a price 15 pesos, which is the cost of three packs of Panini stickers.

"It's not right to buy, not just because it’s expensive. It matters to make a last effort to get the final card", Juan says, while consulting Analia Soto’s list of sticker numbers. Analia has come to the park to help her three children fill their albums. And anyway, says Juan, some vendors sell fake stickers.

Warnings about false stickers have been posted on Argentinian virtual community website Taringa. Those in the know have posted advice on how to identify fakes, railing against those who take advantage of the “good faith” of the children who collect. Argentina’s sticker fever—and the ever-increasing shortage of certain collector’s items— is the perfect climate for fraud to take hold.

When Juan comes to the end of Analia’s list without finding anything he needs, Analia says she feels a bit like Joel Campbell, who told his sticker story on Twitter:  in anticipation of his first big World Cup game, Campbell ran out to buy around 100 packs of the stickers—but found the one with his face on it wasn’t among any of the purchases.

But, luckily for John and Tomás, Analia has one more list, that of her youngest son, who, like his brothers, chose to stay at home watching cartoons instead of heading out into the rain of Buenos Aires. She’s already looked at Juan’s list: no luck. But she agrees to let Juan look for the treasured Ansarifard card. "Some people will only exchange if you have what they need,” Analia says. “I don’t think that’s very supportive. I don’t need to have multiple copies of the same card. So why prevent someone else from filling their album?"

And then, it's there,  on Analia’s last sheet of paper: Karim Ansarifard, from Iran’s Tractor Sazi Football Club in Tabriz. Tomás—and Juan—have done it. In gratitude, Tomás gives Analia all his remaining duplicates. After all, he no longer needs them, and maybe she’ll have some luck with them.

And Juan and Tomás head home to complete the album—and to celebrate.

Viva el fútbol!