Everyone Loves Football!
Except the Yankees who call it "soccer"
Earlier this fall, when my husband suggested he take me to a football game, I was initially dubious, not because of my uncertainty about the sport but my misconception of the fans. Although I played “soccer” (aka football for the rest of the world) during my four years of high school (secondary school for some of the world), I never developed a fondness for advocating for any sports team. So, when I went to my first professional football game—and no, it wasn’t the World Cup, I was unceremoniously taken aback by the fullness of life I was presented with. During the first week of a grey northern English November, I accompanied my partner to watch Manchester City play Fulham in Manchester, in a stadium filled with 50,000 people. Taking on the role of a cultural anthropologist, I observed this sea of men: gathering intel on how they let loose, opted into the competition, and joined their chorus. As the only Yankee in proximity, people felt compelled to chat—not because I had anything brilliant to say—but because they wanted to hear how a US American pronounced potato and California.
Not wanting to be the subject of their ritual, I turned the focus to them, asking them how the audience and the rules around spectatorship have changed. Both on and offline, my partner befriended several lads who were part of the Manchester Fans Foodbank Support. This sparked my curiosity, so during halftime, when people downed their beers (or wine), I asked why they decided to create this group. A member of Foodbank Support recalled that football needs to be more politicized to include leftists rather than the negative stereotypes that some people have. I was intrigued. An older gentleman, most likely in his early sixties, told me that in the 1980s, anti-fascist Manchester City fans would drive away the British National Front from the stadium. Another spectator—a railway worker—talked about his union and their strike efforts; watching football was what he and his coworkers did on their days off.
For me, viewing the football game was a profoundly rewarding experience—I found myself high-fiving strangers when there was a Manchester City goal—I returned to how our ways of seeing were fundamentally different. For many of the men, who were deriving pleasure from a communal viewing, they revealed a deep connection to both the game and each other. I learned that some cultivated a love of the sport at weekly gatherings with their fathers or to calcify their love for their city. They memorized the players' names and the game statistics. They recalled the trenchant work as young kids to gather a couple of pounds to watch a Manchester City game. This game was not just about the highly paid athletes on the field but what it meant for many working-class people to gather at one of the few recreational spaces where they feel comfortable—cheering for their team while drinking with their mates.
A Word
I recently wrote “Seven Books That Understand Your Grief” for The Atlantic Magazine about grief and recommended seven books to help people cope with bereavement. Of course, reading cannot rescind the pain that comes with loss, nor can it replace the rituals that people have historically developed to accept another person’s transition. But I thought I would try to impart some of my knowledge here.
A Read
I’ve returned to Joan Didion’s Slouching Towards Bethlehem, a collection of essays that dive deep into the heart of 1960s America, but she doesn’t do so by remarking on the dissent or the despair; she talks bout her writing process, the rise of culture, and what it meant for her to bend her narrative style at the time. The text is helping me work through my narrative prose, especially as I find new pathways for developing precision in my prose.
Two Announcements
I am reluctant to announce that I joined Mastodon. Like 99% of the people I know, I don’t know how to use it, but if you want to see my social media blunders on this platform, you can follow me here.
Starting next month, I will have a paid Substack subscription for weekly updates and free monthly updates for all subscribers. Stay tuned!
With Radical Love,
Loved reading this, thank you Edna!
Loved reading this, thank you Edna!