Fraternity. Family. Fellowship.
It’s that time of year again where we tend to reflect on the ones we love and The Man in Seat 9 is not immune. Sitting in front of the warm hearth, staring into the dancing tendrils of golden light the mind drifts to friends and family. Moments of goodness spent. Memories collected during the past year. Surprisingly, or maybe not, thoughts about the new team in town, New York City FC, flash and pop in the flames. Images of sky blue figures streaking across a kelly green pitch. Fans in blue and black jerseys giddy with the experience of live soccer in The Bronx. The emotional roller coaster of cautious apprehension in the early days of the season, to joy, fervor, frustration, and thankfulness during the final days of the side’s inaugural year.
This writer would like to think that he chose New York City FC as his side, but in reality, it was a love affair made for him by the gods of sport; an underdog team that was active and visible in the city; easy access, with bars in the city that show away games; a few world-class players with conspicuous skill that make the team enjoyable to watch; young players on the rise who surprise you and promise great things to come as they mature; the ethos of high stakes and large expectations; the drama of doing better than expected but not as well as hoped; the target on your back from being the new kid on the block and the camaraderie of twenty-eight thousand others supporting the side from that very first touch on a cold March night.
Competition brings out the best and worst of human nature. It is primal and wired into our DNA. To live is to compete, to run faster, throw farther, hit harder. Early man probably stood by his brother outside of the cave, looked at a rock on the ground, and said, "I bet I can throw that farther than you." Later in the timeline it became formalized to train youth in the skills needed to survive in both hunting and war. Later still, it morphed into spectacle to placate the masses and show off military prowess. We’ve left that part behind, but not the need to prove ourselves either on the field personally or vicariously through our anointed champions.
We are drawn to sports because they encapsulate the human experience and a connection to the larger whole. There is comfort found in the shared experience. Sports are a tonic to salve the bumps and bruises from our daily fight with the world. We come en masse to commune in the church of sport. Whether it’s football, baseball, basketball, or hockey in the United States, cricket in the lands of the British Empire, or across the globe as with this writer’s preferred sport, soccer, sports create a community of the faithful. Individual teams create the branches, fans the congregation.
Sports are a multidimensional relationship. The bond between you and your team is personal. Deeply personal. And much like physical relationships, they are filled with passion, attraction, loyalty, joy, disappointment, love, and forgiveness. Like in life, falling in love is unexpected. You may date a few teams out of interest but the one that finds your heart, the one that sweeps you off of your feet, well, that one is different. You wake up one day and realize that this is your team and until the last of your days, this will be the team you support.
Sometimes that relationship is pre-ordained, like a planned marriage or the friend from youth to whom you’ve become engaged. We are introduced to the team and are initiated into the rites of passage by our family before accepting the mantle and joining the clan. We accept them as our own and carry the flag forward.
Sometimes the relationship is one of rebellion. You choose a specific team purely because it is different than the one supported by those around you. You choose the anti-team. You choose to be different. And in being different and joining another clan you ironically find your individuality.
Sometimes the relationship is one of geography. You’ve moved far from your home clan and in your thirst for a sense of belonging and experience of live sport, you switch allegiance to the team the locals support. Except you never really commit. Not fully. Your home team, like a first love, always holds a special place in your heart. And so you make special exceptions to root for your new team until they play your original love, and then you feel the sweet pain of nostalgia while you watch your new side play your old side and you are again connected to the clan of your youth.
And sometimes you have the opportunity to be at the genesis of something. To be there from the beginning. To sign on to a team before you know how they will fare. You and the strangers that will become brothers and sisters in arms are creating a new branch within your specific religion. And you will follow that team to away matches. You will proudly wear the colors of your team into the enemy camp. You will applaud them when they fail. You will cry when they succeed. You will load a log the size of a car onto the back of a tractor trailer and drive it cross-country so that the team feels your presence. You will make yourself hoarse chanting in the away sections of foreign arenas. And you will find love.
You will sit by the fire and wonder how you came to be with this current club. How you came to be a part of your current clan. You will look back and remember where it all began. You will look back and review all the steps that brought you to where you are today. You will look back and realize, you never had a choice.
Here's to all of our clans having a great 2016!
-The Man in Seat 9