Dear Boys,
In soccer, as in most things, the rush of a crowd’s support is a special type of thrill.
Professional athletes know this. There are plenty of trite claims about the roar of the crowd or effect of the fans like an extra player. But it’s true. An audience can inspire greatness. It does it for amateurs and in other arenas too. My biggest audiences–a couple dozen parents at ten year old soccer finals, a few hundred at a school play, thousands of neighbors strung along a 26 mile marathon course–certainly had an effect on me. I felt bolder, braver. Every kick or joke or stride brought a jolt of excitement and purpose.
But we must do without crowds in the age of pandemic. It is strange to see players playing their trade in front of a sea of empty seats. Many leagues have turned to ambient match sounds to replace the cavernous echoing thump of cleat against ball.
Still there’s something to appreciate in the absence of crowds and something to avoid in their presence. Despite the excitement that comes with being the center of attention, never confuse a crowd’s approval with your virtue.
Think of Vozdovac, where fans have been back at stadia for three weeks (despite serious health professional opposition–because Serbia).
In the three matches where fans were present, we have several highlights of fan sections adorned with far right racist symbols: Celtic crosses, Confederate stars and bars, Reichskriegsflagge. While I loved seeing those behind the confederate flag go silent after a goal, I know that Vozdovac’s Invalid section use similar imagery.
That makes cringe. It also reminds me that crowds create corrupted logic. The entire stadium is a crowd. The fans use the flags. The club tolerates them. The players build affinity for supporters and their symbols. It all creates a vicious circle.
The acceptance by all parties at a stadium makes it okay to wave symbols of hate, which makes more people fly it, which makes it easier to accept. The crowd has created a mass delusion that racist symbolism is fine, because its theirs and the crowd validates them.
Those same cycles occur in our own neighborhoods as well.
Hundreds of protesters have torn down monuments to vile, bigoted, people. Statues that honor those who pillaged, murdered, enslaved, and belittled people of color deserve to come down and I’m glad they did. However, the image of toppling statues to cheers can invite a generalized belief that such grand actions do good on their own. Across the St. Croix river, Wisconsinites angry at an unjust arrest tore down sympathetic statues. They didn’t have reasons why. The anger of the crowd vindicated these illogical actions which incite more anger, which leads to more illogical actions.
These muddled motivations are nothing next to those who defend the racist symbols. That includes our president who called statues of slave holders, military bases named after traitors, and symbols of racial animosity “our beautiful heritage.” (Just to make this clear: Serbian football fans aren’t advocating for a more agrarian society and decentralized government…they know it’s a racist symbol, that’s why they like it.)
Again, the crowd corrupts the logic. A group that wants so badly to be different than the protesters ends up defending an indefensible target. A man who thrives on the applause of others lauds the inane logic, breeding more distrust and enmity because the cycle of cruelty, to a cheering crowd, to cruelty continues without end.
A group of politically engaged citizens, protesters, or soccer fans is not, by itself, a dangerous group. But confusing the collection of people with the confirmation of righteousness is dangerous. Crowds aren’t bad. What we do to join, to animate, or to earn the praise of a crowd is.
As a counterpoint to Serbian Hooligans and racist dogwhistles, consider Vincenzo Grifo from Freiburg. He has long been a top tier player, thriving on big Bundesliga stages, and appearing for the elite Italian national team.
Now, even in empty stadia he continues to do his best. Among all the empty stands, he know who he is and loves what he does. He doesn’t need a crowd to spur him on, and one goal suggests why.
Consider the curling wonderstrike against Hertha Berlin. At a moment where many players might use the crowd to urge them on, the absence of support might mute your performance. Not so Grifo. He stands tall, delivers a great goal, and then runs to the nearest camera. He screams a greeting to his family and hometown. Even with an empty stadium, the inspiration and encouragement exists in his heart, his history, something far beyond a few thousand fans on a Friday night.
Grifo doesn’t need a crowd to do great things, and neither do you. By all means, enjoy a crowd, revel in the roar. Just don’t conflate a crowd with correctness.
MacKenzie's Boot Room 