The gods of football (soccer for us Americans) are having a good time, but not all the fans
We bought our tickets late for the game we wanted to see, Iran versus Belgium, compared to the other first-round games of the World Cup. (To explain this splurge, the writer of this story is a naturalized immigrant from Belgium.) What if we bought tickets and the Iranians decided not to show up or weren’t able to enter the country? But luckily we did buy the tickets, less than a month before the game, and the Iranians did show up. Will the 70,000 stadium be full, we wondered? Oh yes, full, very full!
By unanimous decision it was decided that only the men in the family were going to the game. Three sons(-in-law), two grandsons and grandpa. It seemed that when shopping at The Grove was offered as the alternative, the women did not even pretend to be interested in joining us. The game starting time being noon, we didn’t want to take any chances and left the house at 7 in the morning. OK, we were not that totally panicked about the L.A. traffic although the city authorities during the weeks leading up to the game had done anything possible to make us think that way. We had an ulterior motive, that we should do a bit of “tailgating” before the game.
So here we are on our way to tailgate in the parking lot near the Sofi stadium. The son-in-law Mark, who has a long history of tailgating as a member of the Raider Nation, is our guide and leader. There are not many cars there yet at this ungodly hour, just a few other tailgaters. The youngest son, Jeff, opens the van’s rear door and we start unloading. Six chairs for the six guys. A hefty cooler out of which Mike first retrieves the home-made burritos. We do the eating of the burritos first, not because we are ravenously hungry, but to remove the layer obscuring our inventory of beer. “But hold it,” says Mark before son No. 2 Mike is able to retrieve a bottle, as he opens the mysterious smaller cooler he’d brought along and out comes a rather sizeable thermos, and we’re informed that his homemade bloody marys will do just fine on top of our burritos and we are all very willing to try, and begin to sip gingerly from the exquisite cocktail produced by our expert tailgate-barman. Just sipping gingerly, mind you. It’s only 8:15 and we don’t want to overdo it. From our comfortable chairs we watch other tailgaters arrive. The guys across from us came in a truck and are using its tail to put a barbecue on, which starts off with a lot of smoke. Within minutes a couple of security officers arrive on their bikes and tell everyone that “management” really does not condone tailgating in this parking lot because of FIFA rules (really!), and would we douse the fire, put our chairs back in our van? We all act surprised and we can see from their faces that the security officers are also not convinced of the wisdom of management.
No extra hurry to comply with the harsh rules. Every three minutes a plane about to land at LAX roars over us. Where do they come from? Loaded with fans from Iran, from Belgium, we wonder? Jeff has his iPad on the van’s tail and we watch Saudi Arabia being clobbered by the Spanish.
At about 10 we start walking to the stadium, proudly wearing our Belgian team shirts. Although over 100,000 Iranians live in L.A., we are happily surprised to see that we won’t be overwhelmed by the Iranian fans. There are lots of tri-colored Belgian shirts, hats and other paraphernalia. Walking to our seats we chat with fans from both sides. Incredible imagination is exhibited by fans’ attire. Most memorable are three ladies wearing something that looks like a helping of fries on their heads. A lot of other very creative fan-hooding going on.
We order food and drinks before the game starts. I ask the guy standing in line behind us who he’s rooting for and he says “for Belgium, of course!”
When I ask why, he quickly retorts, “I hate Iran!” OK, I suppose that’s a reason, too. I ask the guy sitting next to me why he’s wearing a Belgian shirt, would he perhaps speak Flemish? “Oh no. I just think Belgium is the best team today,” he answers, “but, since you ask …” and he pulls up his shirt and shows he’s wearing the green Mexican shirt underneath.
It’s five to 12, time to sing the national hymns. On each side of the field a busload of volunteers is holding a huge flag at the ready to be rolled out across their half. The Belgian hymn starts, and slowly, then quicker, they begin to un-roll the flag. Everyone is in step, disciplined. Then suddenly one of the volunteers trips and falls. The volunteers next to her don’t quite catch it at the beginning and unfold the flag over her. Hold! Stop! We can see the fallen volunteer crawling out from under the flag. With only seconds delay, mission accomplished! I’m thinking: What a war story to tell your grandkids!
The Iranian hymn is sung with no hiccups. There is some booing, and a few revolutionary, meaning anti-regime, flags are being waved here and there.
As far as one can tell, while most Iranian fans are clearly Iranians, the authentic Belgians in the stadium are rather scarce. A couple thousand of them, decked out in tri-colored attire, sit together in a section to our left. We presume those are the die-hard core fan base straight from Belgium. It looks like the two teams have each about half of the spectators rooting for them. But as the game unfolds there seems to be a huge difference between the two. Throughout the game the Iranian fans are shouting, “Iran! Iran! Iran!” It’s clear, 99% hates the current regime, but intrinsically loves the country they had to leave. They’re eager to show their support for their country’s football team, urging it to win, applauding it every time it has the ball in its possession. The Belgian fan base, on the other hand, including the “die-hard fans” to our left, are almost mute. We only hear them when Belgium scores a goal, which is then called an offside. That’s it. The Mexican fan next to me asks, “Don’t you guys do Ole! Ole! Ole!” in Belgium? Apparently not. Mark is the loudest Belgian fan sitting in our section. Now and then he stands up and shouts “Go Belgium!” but apart from today’s tailgate nation comrades there isn’t much of a reaction. I wonder if that has any impact on our team on the field? It feels like the Iranian fans are infusing energy on theirs.
That’s my story. The results of the game are a draw, rather disappointing for many Belgian fans who thought their team superior. But as we’re walking back to our van we all agree that this has been a unique experience. The enthusiasm of the fans, decked out in their colorful, creative attire. Our mini-tailgating extravaganza. The super-sized stadium. That combination created an incredible atmosphere that made the event feel much bigger than just a football match.
Patrick Daems
Stevenson Ranch
