How I Became a Soccer Fan
I used to live in central London. When I say that, I don’t mean it in the American “I was a study abroad student for four months, so now I tell people I lived in London” sense. I mean I got a blue passport, paid for a valid work visa and loaded up a big black backpack before boarding a one-way flight from Chicago O’Hare to London Heathrow. I was an expatriate. Why did I do it? I wasn’t sure what else to do with my life. I’d applied to grad school at UCLA, but they rejected me. Life Lesson #186: Always Have a Back Up Plan.
I didn’t know anyone in Britain’s capital city, so my immediate goals were to find housing and a job. I worked as a bartender in a traditional English pub called The Mitre because it was a “two-fer.” Random trivia fact: the word pub is short for public house. The folks who work downstairs in the public bar live in the upstairs house for free.
A pale-skinned British guy named Martin managed the place with his sexy, thin, pretty, brown Indian girlfriend named Zen and an English guy named Darren. I’d have to check my written journals to be sure, but if I remember correctly, my roommates / coworkers included exactly: 2 Aussie boy bartenders, 2 Aussie girl bartenders, 1 Irish cook, an Italian girl & African guy who served as barbacks who went home at the end of the night instead of living with us upstairs. (I don’t know why.)
It was a World Cup year, so the pub was always crowded with drunken Brits singing “Three Lions” and other cheer songs for their beloved national team. England and South Africa had teams running across the green pitch on our pub’s “telly.” It was the year Beckham kicked a player and was sent off with a red card. Pushing my way through the crowds, serving pints as I spilled lager, ale and cider down my hand and arms, I came across a burly Englishman with St. George’s Cross on the front of his white shirt. He got in my face and yelled, “Your team lost!” I spit back, “I’m not South African. I’m American.” He looked completely baffled, as if I’d told him, “I come from the future.” Life Lesson # 674: Europeans Are Often Surprised By the Large Number of Brown-skinned People in America.
I remember the swell of the crowd’s cheer, the intense concentration with which the men watched the game, and the fans’ sheer dedication and commitment to their World Cup teams. It was as if World War II was reenacted, and civilians sat spectator as they watched the battles play out before their eyes. Supporters rooted for their home countries, and nearly everyone hated Germany. The fervor was equally intense as it was intoxicating. What’s more? All the all players had fit, streamlined bodies that were propped up by powerful legs and rock-hard asses. The excitment. The skill. The enthusiasm. The boys. A woman who’d shunned sports for 89.5765% of her life, I knew I’d found a new love.
Life Lesson #892: Soccer is called football, and it is a truly beautiful game.
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NOTE: Why this post today? Heads up, the next Manly Monday post is about my newest favorite soccer player. Anyone wanna guess who it is?
March 28th, 2008 at 11:13 am
I know who it is. But I ain’t sayin’
Great post, btw. Learning through experience. Way better than grad school. Good on ya!
Peace,
K
March 28th, 2008 at 11:28 am
If working in a pub in London during a World Cup doesn’t make you a footie addict, I don’t know what will! Sounds like a great experience. I don’t watch the premierships or club football but I make it a point to follow the World Cup when that’s on simply because of how exciting it all is :D
March 28th, 2008 at 11:56 am
I kinda expected a drunken bar brawl story with this one. Pubs, Brits, booze… seems like the natural progression.
=D
March 28th, 2008 at 2:04 pm
haha sounds like my story of how I became a soccer fan. but mine includes David Becham..
March 28th, 2008 at 2:26 pm
working at a pub seems fun ;)
one of my goals in life is to live some time in london. and then move to the suburbs :D
football, or soccer, is the most famous sport for us portuguese. i like t, but i’m not fanatic.
don’t like beckam. at first yes. he’s gorgeous. but then i realized he’s a jerk. looks aren’t everything, even for an eye candy thing :P
March 28th, 2008 at 8:23 pm
OK.
You’ve made me want to check it out.
March 28th, 2008 at 9:55 pm
Great stuff. I’m a Canadian and spent time in that neighborhood when I was close to your age.. A long time ago, mind. Great part of town. And yes, Europeans, Brits most of all think Americans are all white..
March 29th, 2008 at 9:31 am
Love this post. I figured you picked up “the habit” in The Netherlands, but little did I know.
March 29th, 2008 at 12:17 pm
@ Kelly: Thanks for keeping it a secret! :)
@ Darwin: Oh, I’m all about the premierships now. Man United! :) I’m a fan. I used to skip the national games, but my friend “Bro” is sucking me into it.
@ Aka “Paul”: Love it! :) That sooo would have made for a funny story. Unfortunately, no beer brawls were had.
@ Jen Love: Sounds like fun.
@ Carolina Pereira: Yeah, I kept it up for a while because it was new and exciting. The thrill wore off after a while and I settled into a fashion industry job. The pay was better, and the workplace was less noisy. :)
@ Desiree: YES!!! My plan to single-handedly convert the US to a soccer-loving nation is working!! ;)
@ don: I *LOVE* my Canadian readers!!! :)
@ Pegs: Yeah, the Dutch years were later. My love of the sport started off in jolly ol’ England.
March 29th, 2008 at 1:34 pm
You know I ain’t got NUTHIN’ but luv for ya, but…yeah. The reasons you love football are the reasons I hate it (the obnoxious fans, the distraction from everything else, the thinly-veiled nationalism).
The only thing I can compare my hatred of football and football fans to is my hatred of hockey and hockey fans back home in the USA.
Oh, and yeah, your description of the typical “study abroad” student is pretty much, word for word, how I would describe my time “when I lived in England.”
I came close, though, to doing what you did. I was burned out on school. I was on the verge of graduation. The idea of spending a career the way I’d just spent an internship made me nauseous.
So I had everything in place to travel to, live in and work in England. Then life suddenly happened that year. Maybe I’ll write a post in my own blog about it…
Cheers.
March 29th, 2008 at 11:35 pm
that’s so open….. yeah… England is cool like that….. as a traveling musician…
the world has been my study hall….. learning how to play when as a kid in
Barbados on holiday from Bklyn-NYC…. it’s a game that’s not for the timid… for
unlike cricket….. you are going full tilt and time doesnt stand still … for no one..
now…. that sounds like a work piece in progress….. a bird from the States comes
to Land’s End…. to start over…. a rebirth….. to see if you can make it anywhere..
having lived in London and France … for a long while… one feels at one with the
Force… blending with the soft parade…. having one’s speech give one away to
where they are from… and how you flow…. when I start to miss it…. I dive in
once more…. just to see if I still got it….
PS: can we have just a little more of your musings…. love…
be a sweet and give us a lark….
lamesabassman….. still playin’ after all these years….
March 30th, 2008 at 12:59 am
@ Andy: Yes, write a post about it. I wanna hear that story.
@ lamesabassman: :)
March 30th, 2008 at 10:00 pm
It swings both ways: I recall watching a television interview with Whoopi Goldberg (I think it was on British television’s BBC One’s ‘Film’ programme) where she said she almost fainted from shock the first time she visited Scotland because she saw a person of colour speak with a thick Glaswegian accent.
Still, saying that, most Brits *are* quite stupid (I’m allowed to say that: I *am* one) and if you add alcohol to the mix, well, you might as well say you’re from Timbucktoo, because they still won’t grasp what you’re going on about, sadly.
Also: I’m pretty sure I’m the only Brit to fucking hate football/soccer. And pubs. And men with the English flag painted on their face. Reminds me too much of Britain’s racist past, see: something many Brits refuse to acknowledge even now (see Liverpool or any major port town and the slave trade). Depressing, but true.
March 30th, 2008 at 11:05 pm
Ah, European racism. Yeah, you’re right; even as a fan, I know the “beautiful game” is not immune to ugly moments.
In Spain:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jwpO-nnFY9g
http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport2/hi/motorsport/formula_one/7225523.stm
and elsewhere.