I don’t really watch sports as a fan these days.
I’m first and foremost a parent, with young children we do not allow much screen time. I’m a husband, and my spouse is not into sports at all.
Other than games I call as a professional broadcaster, I rarely watch a full game straight through, even in research. I can find just enough time to get the starting lineups and formations, or 20 minutes here, maybe a half there. I can put a game on in the background while I type up notes. It never feels like there’s enough time to go around.
In the rare instances I do watch games I’m not researching, there’s always something else to focus on. One announcer is a friend – how is she doing? Those graphics look new. Since when does that company sponsor this sport? What’s happening on Twitter right now? I’m frustrated with these announcers; why am I not working this game? Is there a closer game I can watch?
But on Wednesday night, a 10:30pm ET kickoff meant everybody in my household was asleep, and I could choose to sit in a darkened, not-yet-set-up apartment and watch the US men’s national team in a pressure-packed World Cup qualifier.
My mood used to soar and swoop with US men's games. Their qualification battles (uphill, it always felt) against Guatemala (Mazetenango!) and Costa Rica (handball on Gregg Berhalter’s chest!) helped pull me into soccer when I was in high school, and I was glued to the 2002, 2006, and 2010 World Cups.
But when Jurgen Klinsmann took over as coach in 2011, it got different. I knew players involved and rooted for them, and there was definite emotion around the first two games of the 2014 World Cup. But other parts of the team didn’t get me psyched in the same way, didn’t feel as emotional as when I was a teenager.
That’s OK. Being a father, being a husband, being a professional are all more important things than being a fan, and I figure I probably needed some big-picture perspective.
But there is a reason sports mean so much to me, to so many of us. It’s incredibly cliched, but sports can and do bring people together. The process of following something en masse, of discussing, celebrating, bemoaning, debating, dissecting it. It’s all fun, it’s all fascinating, and we can all share it.
As I watched the Honduras-US game, so many moments took me back to rooting for those early US teams. So many moments jogged memories of covering youth tournaments and the Homegrown Player rule and caring so much about the future of soccer in the US. Years of effort and strategizing and investment are now affecting the final product, the one that represents our country, and we certainly hope Wednesday’s second half is more indicative of the future than the first.
But I didn’t only have the game on. I was on Twitter, somehow reveling in the collective despair of halftime. I pointed out what I felt was an under-reported story, one I’ve been more aware of than most because of my old job. I debated acquaintances about just how to best tell that story.
Most importantly, I texted with a close friend who’s dealing with real tragedy, with real loss. And 80 percent of what we talked about was the game. That’s usually how our relationship works, and it’s how we stay connected. In his words, “just yapping sports is what is required.” But in the other 20 percent, I was able to ask about his family, his situation, and understand where he’s coming from. He asked about mine. That’s friendship – common interests, shared experience, true care for each other.
Now that’s possible without sports, without fandom, of course. But as I silently fist-pumped sitting on the floor of my darkened apartment, I wasn’t truly alone watching the game. I was watching with a close friend, with soccer friends and colleagues from across the North American sports world, and with so many people I’ve never even met.
The night felt a whole lot better because the US won; giving up an extra 2 hours of sleep for a qualifying loss is a real kick to the stomach. But it felt good to step outside my life, care about something else, and – most importantly – do it with so many people.
I was a fan – and a friend – again.
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