BARÇA AND FUTBOL: A WIDELY DIVERSE PEOPLE'S PASSION
Matt Fillare “The rest of the world is a big place, and its essential inhabitant is the stranger” - Bill Buford, Among the Thugs.
I have always been envious of cigarette smokers – Not for the addiction and host of medical problems – no, my envy of smokers comes from a much more superficial and ridiculous place: parties. How often I’d sit at parties and want to start up a conversation with some strangers only to have absolutely nothing to break the ice with. What did I have in common with these strangers? “Nothing,” I thought, and alcohol can only lubricate a social situation so much. But seeing the cool fucks outside the back door, all asking each other for a light or a cigarette and conversation flowing after like the cheap piss beer we were drinking, I wanted in. That is why when I am drunk I become a vociferous chain smoker. But let me digress, this desire to be accepted and connect with strangers has a connection to the beautiful game.
During the second leg of the Supercopa between FC Barcelona and Real Madrid, I was visiting New York City with my parents and consciously chose to wear my blaugrana Puyol strip. My day turned out to be an adventure through neighborhoods, cultures, and ethnicities sharing an icebreaker, a common bond with as disparate a group of people that only a city like New York can produce.
My unusual day began when dropping my car off for an oil change a portly Hispanic mechanic stretched out from behind a doorway, pointed at me in my kit and said ominously “Today.” This awkwardly confrontational moment would serve as a microcosm for the rest of my afternoon.
Travelling from gentrified Hoboken on the New Jersey side of the Hudson River, to the famous Canal St., home to Caribbean and Sub-Saharan African men hawking fake designer products, to Chinatown, up through Little Italy and ending at the touristy South Street Seaport on the East River, my Barça strip registered comments from people of each enclave.
The diversity of ethnicity and age – from high-fiving a ninety year old man who stopped me to pull a Barça hat out of a shopping bag, to a ten year old boy who when he saw my jersey pulled out a Barça scarf – got me musing about the ability of sports to build a collective conscious among people who on the surface have so little in common.
The power of sport to build a group or community consciousness is something that has been widely documented, especially with FC Barcelona as a symbol of political and cultural identity in Catalonia, and never before had it been more evident to me than during my day in New York City. While I have read books on the power of sport and sociology of the crowd, the ivory tower of academic literature and comfort of my couch are a pale comparison to the vibrancy of real life and experience.
The ability of a red and blue striped shirt to elicit an emotional response from people literally from all corners of the globe is something unbelievably complex and beautifully simple.
We were drawn together by the game; a common interest when the stories and realities of our lives would offer little to nothing else in common except for a love for the brand of soccer Barcelona prides itself on providing its fan base. It is what drew me into a bar in Little Italy to high five an Italian waiter screaming “MESSI” as if the flea was a loved one who had just died, and flip the bird to Jose Mourinho yelling “Fuck you Mou!”
As Jimmy Burns detailed in his history of Barcelona, “For only when his family began to follow Barça did they begin to feel a sense of belonging. To cheer the club, to pay homage to the individual skills of the players, to shout abuse at Real Madrid, was to confirm oneself as a part of the local community and break through the alienation of being an emigrant.” Awesome, that was me, except I was 3,000+ miles away, decades in the future, and neither Spanish nor Catalan.
I have never been to Barcelona nor seen the club play live in-person, but thanks to our rapidly globalized world I feel a profound connection to them, more than any I can ever imagine having with the New York Energy Drinks (Red Bulls). As Franklin Foer, author of 'How Soccer Explains the World', notes on the subject of foreign fandom and group identities:
"That's one of the frightening things about commodified tribalism -- it becomes so much easier to slip in and out of a group identity. You're no longer just born into who you are, you get to choose it, and it can get sold to you by corporations. That to me is kind of scary. But then again, you can see the upside to it -- when you can slip into an identity more easily, you can also slip out of an identity more easily and maybe that makes it ultimately more harmless."
What globalization has done as evident in my life is bring me to love the game of soccer of a club playing across an ocean and build relationships with fellow fans back here in the states. Between me and the portly Hispanic mechanic, Italian waiter in Little Italy, small boy at the South Street Seaport, or construction worker on break at the former site of the World Trade Center who asked me the score of the game, the beautiful game and Barcelona tore down the physical and cultural boundaries of our lives. At risk of sounding overly romantic, the shirt and sport served as an item to be shared and a universal language between us. Moments of brilliance like Leo Messi’s goals that evening bring out this desire to celebrate in unison, for a human connection.
The phenomenon of feeling loneliness in the city, that postmodern affliction Holden Caulfield introduced many of us to, is quelled by the sport, the strip serving as a ticket of admittance to this collective experience of pagan mass where euphoria or defeat is to be shared together. Barcelona cut racial and class divisions for me on this day as it did for the emigrant cules who found their Catalanism and integrated themselves into the larger collective of the nation through cheering for FC Barcelona.
To be a fan of the game is to care for more than just the game itself, which begins and ends with the tick of a clock and stays within the confines of the field of play – it is for many the desire for an identity, to be a part of a collective sharing a common goal, to exist within an “us against them” mentality for our more pessimistic social theorists.
Though negative facets of professional sport are abound in its use to perpetuate sexism, outdated racist tendencies (Please reference the ape grunting at the Bernebau and Nou Camp when each respective away club’s colored players touched the ball), obsessive fanaticism(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BvMf_OK_-6E Haha ), and nationalism bordering on jingoism (http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/asia/bangladesh/7756547/Fanatical-Brazil-and-Argentina-football-fans-clash-in-Bangladesh.html), as well as Foer’s above point on “commodified tribalism,” we should heed what Eduardo Galeano once said – “How is soccer like God? Each inspires devotion among believers and distrust among intellectuals” – and make point to remind ourselves it feels good to sit back, root and cheer for our talented athletes and high-five the strangers around us.
As globalization has stepped on the accelerator the past twenty some-odd years, and consequently many of our lives have also increased pace as well, the power of sport delivers a rush of a different sort. An escape from the anesthetic of modern life, the power of the crowd provides, in Bill Buford’s words, “that of existing so intensely in the present that it is possible for an individual, briefly, to cease being an individual, to disappear into the power of numbers – the strength of them, the emotion of belonging to them.”
What we are left with is sport as culture. Talking sports (particularly soccer) is an integral part of male culture around the world, and in the U.S. soccer is shifting from a purely subcultural topic to something more widely recognized in pop culture.
That some decide to pledge their life to the game and fandom for the club should not surprise us if we view soccer through this lens. Again, at risk of creating a romanticized idyllic of the game, that privileged, postmodern search for a different culture than our own – one that is “pure” and made up of archetypes like the unattractive, working class fanatics who live and die with the club – is also what drew many of us in the U.S. to the game in the first place.
All cultures have their good and bad facets, and sport as culture is no different. To close, a quote once again from a character in Buford’s book which encompasses the reasoning and healthy positivism I chose to subscribe to for this piece. “I don’t know if you can call us tribal. I don’t like the word. I prefer to see myself as a part of a collective fiesta in which I can celebrate the great opportunity of being surrounded by others who feel the way I do. The club belongs to us; we are linked to it as if it were a vital part of our existence.” This statement rings true not only for those historically situated localized fans, but in this shrinking global realm of culture, media, and sport, clubs may now belong to those even in the most remote, far-flung expanses on the Earth.
Reader Comments (15)
If you were criss-crossing Montreal instead of NYC you would probably be photographed.
Many ideas you write about here were in my mind when, about a month ago, I started the project where I approach people who go around their business wearing football shirts. Ever since moving to North America (Montreal) from Sarajevo, I feel a strange connection to people, dressed in their favourite team jersey (even to Chelsea and Bayern fans, I admit), I see around the city. My ultimate goal was/is a photo project (I am a photographer before all) but these encounters, however brief, offered me much more than that. If interested take a look at http://footballists.wordpress.com/
Best,
Can't help but agree with you. Although I don't think it specifically pertains to only soccer. Reading I couldn't help but think of music. There are very few things that can unite a group of complete strangers like being crammed into a tiny bar watching your favorite (unsigned/indie) band play live.
My two cents.
Really really well written
Living in NYC, every single time I wear my Spurs jersey, I invariably have someone say something to me about the previous match. No matter that I grew up in the American Midwest. No matter that I am as much a transplant as many of those who comment on the jersey. When I wear the shirt, I am a part of a larger group, a group that originates in North London and cheers for a group of men participating in sport thousands of miles away.
It's better when they don't remember the result against City, needless to say.
I love this article! This has also been my own experience as well, it even happened today when I was wearing my Spanish jersey! :)
I suppose it has to do with the locations you visited. I have grown up in Queens, which is probably one of the most diverse counties in the entire country. and funny enough, wearing a Barca jersey won't elicit much of a response. In fact, on a non-game day I choose not to wear mine because chances are some other guys will be wearing it as well! What DOES elicit responses though are the wearing of national jerseys. Being such a melting pot, nationalism and pride for one's football nation is obvious, and the day of an international friendly, world cup qualifier, or world cup match is truly a festival that must be experienced. Overall, I have to agree with your observance of how football can unite cultures. It truly is the worlds sport, and along with music, can be considered a universal language. We may not be able to communicate with tongue...but sport can unite us all.
I live in California, and each time I wear the Barcelona (2005 season) shirt, I get asked many questions. Shy little boys look twice with a glint in their eyes the second time. Old men start a conversation. There is joy to be had in these interactions. When I ask the little ones about their favorite player, the boys' hairstyle is a good indication of their preference for either Messi or Ronaldo. The ones who are very well groomed invariably shout out for Cristiano Ronaldo. Moreover, this being California, most peoples' eyes are alight when I mention the name Chicharito. I am an immigrant. Yet when I wear the Barcelona shirt feel more kinship than I normally do.
I disagree with the author's observation that globalization has contributed to a greater love for football. I posit that there that football has always had an enormous following in the world. There was the World Cup before the Champions' League, before La Liga, before the Premier League or the Bundesliga. Most governments ensured that the respective national TV outlets broadcast the World Cup to their peoples. If Champion's League is the sufficient condition, then the World Cup has been the necessary condition. That is, without the World Cup, arguably a pre-globalization evangelical tool, there would be lesser of a global appeal of football. Moreover, while a tournament like Champions' League has enhanced the appeal of the game, the World Cup was always broadcast to the four corners of the earth before globalization. That is, Pele and Maradona have had far greater appeal to a football loving world even if these two footballing giants displayed their wares in a pre-globalization era. Is there a reason that the Brazil of 1970 has a far fairer place in the footballing sun than any other team? From a quasi religious angle, I have always wondered if football is, even more than music, our attempts to reverse Babel's curse. After all, not everyone dances to the martial rhythm of Wagner nor does everyone do the Texas two step to Charlie Rich nor does everyone take off their shirts when Nelly sings his ditty.
"That's one of the frightening things about commodified tribalism -- it becomes so much easier to slip in and out of a group identity. You're no longer just born into who you are, you get to choose it, and it can get sold to you by corporations"
This article sits uneasily with me. On this site of shared stories, of football being a shared story; you are not part of the story of FC Barcelona. You share none of its history, its culture, its dreams of football. You are a consumer who has convinced himself that by buying a football jersey he has bought much, much more.
Well you havent. It takes generations of work to create and become part of a football story. If you arent happy with being part of NY Red Bulls story then start your own story and take them on, like fan owned clubs are the world over. Like FC Barclona did.
No Al Calcio Moderno
Thank you for all the comments, positive and negative, complimentary and critical. This article's reception has vastly exceeded my expectations for it.
In regards to how much of a fan one can be when not historically or geographically situated, obviously many feel there is a line to be drawn. No die hard fanatics of a team enjoy when fairweather fans start piling up and rooting as if they were Ultras, and in a global sport like football it can seem even more perverse when foreign fans latch onto a team local supporters feel they have more of an inherent right to care for..
However, passion is drawn from many places, and as I mentioned it was immigrants into Catalonia who latched onto FC Barcelona and by virtue became more integrated into the society, both physically and psychologically (I learned this from Jimmy Burn's history of Barcelona, which I proactively read in hopes of learning more about the history of Barcelona; owning a jersey is peripheral to my interest. And I'm also 21 years old and have been exposed to soccer for only the past 3-4 years, so yes my story is young because it could not be otherwise). I would not deny these outsiders their right, just as I would not deny any outside fan the right to choose his or her team. As I linked in the piece, fans of Brazil and Argentina in Bangladesh violently fought over their respective clubs. This kind of globalization is something very real and will undeniably be part of the future, as much as it ruffles the feathers of a football purist or not. And it does have it's problems, as the quote cited by Ciaran says. But remember, there will always be someone with greater claim to fandom than you, so getting in the habit of questioning the passion of others is a road filled with pratfalls if you choose to.
@ Claran
I disagree with your characterization that FC Barcelona belongs only to Catalans. I would argue that Athletic Bilbao and Chivas de Gudalajara belong only to the Basques and Mexicans respectively not FC Barcelona. Barcelona has always been at ease recruiting foreign players to play for them. Were it otherwise, they would employ only Catalunyans. Moreover even its founder was a Swiss man-Joann Gamper aka Johann Gamper. For FC Barcelona employing a foreigner was always a means to promoting Catalan regionalism but also espouse universal values such as inviting others to participate in the joy of watching a team that plays brilliant football molded, as the football is, in the image of Catalunya. Why else would FC Barcelona vigorously promote UNICEF? Finally, one would have to be a misanthrope to not empathize with the dark period of FC Barcelona in Civil War Spain under Franco? So for Barcelona to state that "we are more than a club" indicates that one is reminded that, in spite of the past, Catalunya lives, and lives abundantly.
The word " colored" is both outdated and steeped in racism - it is also very offensive!!
I say nothing when I see such international jerseys. Only say something when real domestic pride is on display, else you are a cookie-cutter consumer and I don't respect that.
Having finally read the article, my first comment was just one I gave at a glance. But now I see this is just a VERY LONG justification of being a poser and eurosnob.
Fantastic piece, trully inspiring.
And as a soci of Barça, son and grandson of socis of Barça, I totally agree nobody can question your passion for Barça. Barça is mainly about people from different places sharing a common passion. 100 years ago different places meant within Catalonia, 50 years ago throughout Iberia, today,..
Nonetheless, you should treat yourself a game at Camp Nou, with a previous beer at La Taberna del Lobo.