Being a soccer fan in America isn’t the easiest thing in the world. It is a feeling that is hard to relate to people who are outside the game. From what most of my friends have said growing up in Richmond, Virginia, and around my campus is that soccer is a sport for “whiney pretty boys who like to roll around on the ground when no one touched them.” In America, most people look at soccer as a sport that is severely lacking. Often when jumping up and down or getting excited around the lunch table I often get the response of “this is America, shut up about your stupid soccer shit.” It’s like seeing the awesome view from the top of a mountain. You are admiring the view, the beautiful idiosyncrasies as the land gently touches water, and then having some asshole come and push you off the ledge. When you hit the ground, you realize not that many people in your country care about the view.
Being a soccer fan in America isn’t easy. I have about four friends out of a large group that I feel I can chat soccer with. The recent events at the close of the January transfer window are something that many have been talking about. Fernando Torres moving from his long time home in Liverpool to reigning Premier League champions Chelsea, for 50 MILLION POUNDS! Such a huge event and who to talk to about it? That’s right. The wall, because trying to explain the significance of such an event to someone who doesn’t follow the sport is just as effective. Message boards exist online, but I love talking in person and arguing over a couple beers about whichstriker is the best in the world. I love having one or two too many and screaming GLORY GLORY MAN UNITED at the top of my lungs, and then quickly shutting up as I realize no one understands what the hell my close friend and I are doing. You know how in high school there were those kids who were a little off and kind of went to the beat of their own drum. They really didn’t give a shit what you thought because they were happy, but they still knew how much it sucked to be an outcast? They know what its like to be a soccer fan in a land the sees football and baseball as religion.
Fans come in all shapes and sizes and from all over the world. Who is your club? One of the most essential questions a fan will be asked, and we ask it in such a possessive manner. Who is your club? MY club is the Red Devils, Manchester United. “Have you ever even been to England?” No. But why does that matter? In a sport where international players are a norm, and even Man U includes only three players out of almost 50 considered “first team” players who are actually from Manchester. Why does it matter that I haven’t been to Manchester? I feel in love with the tradition, the players, the flash, the stout defense, with the bullish Wayne Rooney. I fell in love with a kingdom I have never seen. I long to stand in a castle and gaze at the knights in their armor, but am I inferior because I’m not English? Do I deserve to be pushed away from the “world’s sport” because I’m not from Manchester? Because I’ve never been to a match? Because I haven’t stood in the shadow of the king and felt the power that is Old Trafford? I think not.
Being a fan isn’t about being from somewhere. It’s about a connection to the sport a feeling you get while watching it. So get on your feet and cheer on your club no matter where you are. My fellow fans know you are not alone, with every cheer we build the castle here, one stone at a time.
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