Soccer: quite the eye opener
Andy Buss
Issue date: 2/19/09 Section: Sports
One mid-level ticket: $72. Three bottles of red body paint: $12. One tank of gas: $50. One late-night Steak n Shake stop: $20. Realizing the glory of soccer: Priceless.
As I stood in the first row of the second level in Columbus Crew Stadium with no shirt and the entire front of my body from my waist up painted red witnessing the United States national soccer team destroy Mexico, I - for the first time in my life - understood where the worldwide fuss about soccer comes from: the atmosphere.
No one - and I mean no one - sat down from kick off to the final whistle. And never did the chanting stop. If it wasn't "U-S-A" it was "Mex-i-co" - or a combination thereof, with each nation's fans trying to get the upper hand.
True, it was cold, and true, I was freezing into a cherry Popsicle; but this was USA vs. Mexico! It was about pride, about country, about much more than sports. I've never been much of a soccer fan - I hate ties. But on that cold night Feb. 11, I was proud to be an American - and a USA soccer fan.
I'm not going to try and hide it; I was all about it. I was yelling words - both in Spanish and English - that I'm not quite sure qualified as actual words in either language. It didn't really matter though; I couldn't hear myself anyway - regardless of how loud I yelled.
My friends and I were fortunate enough to land smack dab in the middle of a 95 percent Mexican fan section. That provided quite a unique experience. Amid the beer flying all over us and the blue, plastic horn blasting behind us and ruining our hearing for the rest of the week, we made friends.
Though we had to get stadium security to move some Mexican fans from our seats when we arrived, by the middle of the game we were laughing with, taking pictures with, and agonizing about the refereeing with those same Mexicans. When the game ended in a 2-0 U.S.A. victory, we walked to our car - a good two miles away - still without shirts. Despite the 30 mile per hour wind and the freezing rain, it was a good decision. We must be in personal photo albums across the country - and across the border - because of that choice. Not to mention we were able to hear anywhere from 40 to 50 different types of car horns along the journey.
The ride home was long - very long. We ended up not getting back to Hillsdale until 3:35 a.m. after witnessing two semis on their sides, two mile-long traffic jams, two of the longest trains ever constructed, one disturbingly spooky road and one crazy windstorm. Was it worth it? Oh yeah. Soccer earned both my respect and my support. World Cup 2010, here we come.
As I stood in the first row of the second level in Columbus Crew Stadium with no shirt and the entire front of my body from my waist up painted red witnessing the United States national soccer team destroy Mexico, I - for the first time in my life - understood where the worldwide fuss about soccer comes from: the atmosphere.
No one - and I mean no one - sat down from kick off to the final whistle. And never did the chanting stop. If it wasn't "U-S-A" it was "Mex-i-co" - or a combination thereof, with each nation's fans trying to get the upper hand.
True, it was cold, and true, I was freezing into a cherry Popsicle; but this was USA vs. Mexico! It was about pride, about country, about much more than sports. I've never been much of a soccer fan - I hate ties. But on that cold night Feb. 11, I was proud to be an American - and a USA soccer fan.
I'm not going to try and hide it; I was all about it. I was yelling words - both in Spanish and English - that I'm not quite sure qualified as actual words in either language. It didn't really matter though; I couldn't hear myself anyway - regardless of how loud I yelled.
My friends and I were fortunate enough to land smack dab in the middle of a 95 percent Mexican fan section. That provided quite a unique experience. Amid the beer flying all over us and the blue, plastic horn blasting behind us and ruining our hearing for the rest of the week, we made friends.
Though we had to get stadium security to move some Mexican fans from our seats when we arrived, by the middle of the game we were laughing with, taking pictures with, and agonizing about the refereeing with those same Mexicans. When the game ended in a 2-0 U.S.A. victory, we walked to our car - a good two miles away - still without shirts. Despite the 30 mile per hour wind and the freezing rain, it was a good decision. We must be in personal photo albums across the country - and across the border - because of that choice. Not to mention we were able to hear anywhere from 40 to 50 different types of car horns along the journey.
The ride home was long - very long. We ended up not getting back to Hillsdale until 3:35 a.m. after witnessing two semis on their sides, two mile-long traffic jams, two of the longest trains ever constructed, one disturbingly spooky road and one crazy windstorm. Was it worth it? Oh yeah. Soccer earned both my respect and my support. World Cup 2010, here we come.
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