Dave’s Football Blog

See that dork in the Carolina Panthers jersey in the bottom left-hand corner? Yeah, that’s me, hanging out at the Carolina Railhawks-Seattle Sounders game a few weeks ago. I was the only guy in SAS Soccer Park wearing an NFL jersey, but hey, it’s all just football to me.

Still, it’s better to wear something orange when you’re sitting in the 204 Depot, where I returned last night to watch a U.S. Open Cup match between the Railhawks and the Chicago Fire. So I scrounged up a faded orange shirt somewhere in the back of my closet and headed out to the park, where the drums were already set up and the fans bedecked in their bright orange T-shirts and scarves gathered to sing, chant, stomp and berate the opposing goalie…

Remember during the Gold Cup Final when the Mexican fans at Soldier Field shouted “PUTA!!!” in unison for every American goal kick? We pretty much swiped that from them. We know what it really means. We know young kids are everywhere in here. We don’t care. It’s fun to say. It’s also fun to sing, “The referee’s a wanker!”, after really bad calls. Beating on that big bass drum? Also fun. It’s almost as if the game didn’t mean as much as just going somewhere to spend two hours letting out a week’s worth of frustrations.

Then the Railhawks scored a goal.

I knew going in that the first goal scored would probably be the game winner. The Railhawks and the Fire combined may not score as many goals combined this season as Didier Drogba and Carlos Tevez combined. The explosion that came from the south stand, though, may have been one of the craziest sporting experiences in which I’ve ever participated. Dozens of streamers flew out of the stands onto the goal. Teenage fans moshed with middle-aged Mexican fans at the foot of the bleachers. I just stood there beating the crap out of the bass drum while shouts of Ole! Ole! Ole! rang out from the mosh.

Then someone lit a smoke bomb, and this bright orange cloud grew from the center of section 204, scattering the casual fans in the back — and of course, the wind blew that cloud right in my face. Yet I couldn’t stop beating that drum. I just ducked and coughed a few times and kept playing. The moment demanded it, future lung cancer be damned.

There’s something very cathartic about letting it all out like that when your club scores a goal. I can’t quite tell you why it feels different from when an NFL team scores a touchdown, or when an Australian Football club scores a miracle goal on the fly. Maybe it’s because scoring a goal — especially in America, where quality strikers are rare — is really, really hard. Maybe that’s the secret to this form of football. Every score feels important. Coming back from a double-digit lead in the NFL and AFL has plenty of excitement, yes, but in Association football, coming back from being down one is huge. Maybe this is why Ray Hudson is such a drama queen.

I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure that out. Right now, all I know is that it’s lots of fun to sing and shout and stomp and beat that bass drum with others. It’s a strange mix of English, Latin and American fan culture taking shape in the 204 Depot. I’d like to see more people join in…

Ya glory hunting bastards,
Ya glory hunting bastards,
Ya glory hunting bastaaaaards,
Support yer local team!

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