What I’ve enjoyed most about the World Cup has been the crowds – apart from, of course, England going through against Mexico. Positive energy and play at last, from the whole team: the best I’ve seen since, er… let me think… 1966. Hurrah.
But the crowds at every game have been great, from all nations. So happy, enjoying themselves, dressing up and dancing. And so many families. I feel that they are not actually regular football fans, like the poor ones who watch Spurs every week. They are in for an enjoyable World Cup, a special occasion, that will be remembered forever. Where do they get the money? Not just tickets, but flights. And many with small children, even babies in arms. Surely they haven’t flown their children 10,000 miles?
The answer is: of course not. I suspect that a large proportion live in the US as immigrants. Not just British immigrants, but from elsewhere in Europe and from South America: immigrant families who settled in the US. Their children are still aware and proud of their heritage, excited that their country is on the world map. They are now US citizens, live in the country and can easily travel to a game.
The thing about these fair-weather fans, as opposed to die-hard supporters – who follow their team and suffer every week – is that they want to witness the big occasion and are determined to enjoy themselves.
Every time, over the decades, when I’ve taken the tube to Wembley to watch cup finals or England, the rival supporters stand side by side in their team colours, exchanging harmless banter, all delighted to be there.
Wembley has always been like that. Before the war, going down to the cup final was for most working people the only time in their lives they came to London. My father-in-law was always ready to come to London on a business trip from Carlisle for a cup final in the 30s. So what did you think of London, Arthur? “I don’t think so. I won’t go again.”
Fairweather fans know and love the famous players. I was stunned at an England game in the nineties when a couple of middle-aged women near me started screaming when a sub was coming on – it turned out to be David Beckham. Many England fans at the time considered him a joke, a bit fat, with a funny voice, who was sent off against Argentina in the 1998 World Cup.
There were many fights in the seventies and eighties between fans of rival league clubs. It was dangerous to go to Spurs if they played Arsenal. Gangs of hooligans roamed the streets looking for trouble. Everything has stopped. Too expensive to get into. More corporate seats. A big Prem game is now an occasion, although not as festive as the World Cup.
I have a son, Richard, a 60-year-old lawyer, son of my best friend from college days, who immigrated to the US. Richard has lived there all his life – however he is a keen Newcastle United follower as his father came from Tyneside. He watches all the matches on TV and supports England. He has watched one World Cup match so far, Egypt vs. Iran in Seattle. He managed to get a ticket for $180, the cheapest possible seat.
“It was billed as the (LGBTQ+) Pride Match. I’m not sure it was sanctioned by the nations of the two teams, but it certainly didn’t dampen the festive scene,” Richard told me. “Before the match, there was live music in the square… fans of all ages and t-shirts mingling with each other and rainbow colored ones. There was a small anti-Islamic Republic/pro-“Let’s install the Shah’s son” protest on the way to the stadium. But as soon as they got inside, all the Iranian fans started all the Egyptian fans.
“On the bus out of the World Cup area, back to the real America, we overheard a bunch of women — all young enough to be third-generation immigrants — talking excitedly in perfect LA Valley Girl English, as well as Farsi, about the prospect of Iran’s advancement. All real Americans, just like me.”
So you see, football unites the world.
(Further reading: Football is a losing game)
