The game is full of moments both great to many and utterly insignificant to most. Rickki Vilas goal against City, Liverpool winning the European Cup in Istanbul, Beckham scoring against Greece in injury time, Gerard’s hat trick against Germany (Oh, that night in Munich, it’s sad that it’s a dacde since England had somehting that big to celebrate, France and Bulgaria at St James Park in Euro 96, Aldershot beating Wolves on a rainy Saturday evening, Seattle winning the Open Cup at home or going out on Younge Street with the Tartan Army after a meaningless friendly between Scotland and Canada in Toronto.
These are nights I will never forget, strangers hugged, tears shed and suffering shared all in the name of the game. And if you love this game, you’d better know how to suffer, ‘cause you do a lot of that as a fan.
It’s easy to declare yourself a Manchester United fan, buy the shirt and switch on Fox Soccer Channel on a Sunday morning and bask in the reflected glory. No emotional investment, no need to visit Manchester or even able to pick it out on a map (with apologies to Rob, who can actually find Manchester on a map).
To really support a club you have to emotionally invest yourself, and I do believe that often the club picks you and when it happens there is not much you can do about it. A friend is a Burnley supporter, he’s got no idea why, he just does. Last year he and his wife went to a game while on holiday in England. I can’t imagine what he had to do to sell his better half on a trip to Lancashire to watch the Clarets play.
I’m still not sure how I ended up as a Coventry City supporter, certainly not the infamous shit-brown away strip they had one year. It may have been the FA cup win in ’87, not because of the win but maybe because it was the best cup final I’ve ever seen. Equally it could have been some long forgotten moment of brilliance on Match of the Day.
I’ve been to plenty of Coventry City games at Highfield Road when I lived there, and once to the new Ricoh Arena long after I moved out. I’ve seen Robbie Keene, Dion Dublin, Gary McAllister, John Salako, Darren Huckerby, Wee Gordon Strachen grace Highfield Road with some great football and moments of brilliance. To be fair, for each moment of brilliance there were five 1-0 losses in the rain and mud of January and February, but through those losses and crap games I think I’ve earned the right to say I know what suffering is.
That experience in Coventry is one of the things that’s made this last couple of years with the Sounders so special, I appreciate all the more supporting a club that is competitive and wins things. I’ve never seen a side I’m emotionally invested in win a major trophy at home before the open cup win this year, it’s a rare event, a privilege to be there and the atmosphere was as good as I’ve ever experienced.
Even something as irrelevant as playing in the Greater Seattle Soccer League recreational division on a summers evening. Going for a drink after the game, reliving the moments, giving commentary and flipping each other crap about mistakes made and glory missed.
In all these cases it’s the people I shared the moment with make it so special. Brought together by the game for just a brief moment. Class, education, occupation, where you live, it all means nothing once you walk through the gates of the ground or the front door of the pub; it’s about us verses them and for the next 90 minutes (plus injury time) nothing else matters.
At it’s very best this is what sport can do. It is not about the overpaid players, records and massive TV contracts.
At its heart I believe its about community, celebrating the great and sharing the bad. Support any team and there is typically more bad than good, and appreciating the good times while they are happening is not always easy. But when you do capture that moment it is so much fun to be part of something that much bigger than you.
I may have learned how to suffer in silence following Coventry, but I know I’m not suffering alone. There are others afflicted by the same thing, maybe 25,000 of them on a good day at the Ricoh.
Perhaps the key to footballs brilliance lies in its fundamental simplicity: 22 men, two goals and a ball. The game is easy to understand, but when played well can be absolutely breathtaking to watch.
It’s not all about Beckham putting 5 feet of curve on the ball and beating the keeper from 30 yards out, as spectacular as that is. The beauty comes from a team working together, passing, moving the ball, speeding up and slowing the game as they look for a way to score.
Then there is the high drama that the game excels in providing. The highest of all drama involved Stuart Pearce. He missed a penalty in the World Cup Semi-final in Rome in 1990, six years later he had a chance at redemption against Spain at Wembley. At the end of extra time the score was level at 0-0. Remember, this was for a place in the last four at Euro 96.
It says so much about Pearce’s character that he clearly wanted the ball, he wanted to put it away and bury what had happened against Germany.
He did not place his spot kick, he blasted it, bottom right hand corner. The look on his face and his reaction to the England fans said everything. He had been living with the missed penalty in the World cup for six years and this was redemption. Zubizarreta was in the Spanish goal, a true world class keeper, but that afternoon he was facing more than just Stuart Pierce, he was up against the millions that remember the night in Turin. He had no chance.
These moments make the game so special. I was talking with dad about this a couple of days ago. He semi-joked that being and England supporter is about being let down. And he’s right, the great nights in England history are all long in the past. Arguably the most recent was that night in Munich, and that was almost a decade ago now. We are due, but so are many, many other supporters, and that emotional investment is what separates us.
At it’s very best the game is beautiful, it’s about a team working for each other. Bill Shankly referred to this as the right sort of socialism.