DC United

Sitting down at the DC United game the first thing I noticed was the contingent of fans dressed in the blue and white of several Latin American countries.There was a flag from Argentina, one from Honduras, and perhaps one from Uruguay though it was obscured by the other banners. There seemed to be nothing wrong with using another countries flag to support the DC team. In fact, they were some of the most fervent supports in that section of the stadium.

Once we crossed the stadium a different sentiment had taken over. The blue and white supporters of individual players had transformed into a red and black mob of team fans. Their spirit was infectious. And if you did not catch their bug then you better try to fake it. Within minutes of immersing ourselves into the crowd a fight almost broke out when one of the groups leaders didn’t think one person was singing loud enough.

“If you’re not going to sing get the fuck out!” he yelled, beer in hand. I began to sing louder.The songs in English were easy enough to pick up, however, every other song had at least a few lines in Spanish:

Vamos, Vamos United
Esta Noche
A Ringo make a czar

The last line is a guess. The supporters sang in far too much of a drunken slur to make out anything remotely complicated. What I found amazing was that all the supporters whether they were white, black, or Latin American knew and sang every song. The crowd was composed of a diverse cross section of DC. Behind us there were three white males that complained about their jobs at the Hill during lulls in the game. Next to us were a group of Latin Americas who seemed connected to one particular player on the team. Whenever that player would get the ball they would begin to cheer. A few rows back there was a 50’s-ish white male that reminisced about the good ol’ days in DC United history. After talking to him for awhile he turned out to be a technological engineer for some ubiquitously named company. In front of us stood the leaders. The captain appeared to be the large African-American man standing on the seats and referring to the stands as “his section.” He empowered us all. There was no way I wanted to be on his bad side, I wanted to make him proud in the process screaming myself horse trying to keep up with his level of singing.

The stadium was not filled to any extent but the people who were there seemed to have created close-knit communities. They were not the violent hooligans of Red Star or the Rangers but anger was prevalent. However, the anger focused on the individuals on the other team rather then any ethnicity or nationality. The game never seemed to be a reflection of a battle between DC and Columbus, Ohio. It always remained a soccer game. I think this is a reflection of the state of America. There are very few regional rivalries. The battles are ideological. Perhaps if the game had been between the 10th Amendment Vikings and the Federalist Pioneers or the Socialist Sickles and the Capitalist Patriots more passion would have been created. As it was, the passion stemmed primarily from past loses and the bottles of beer constantly been consumed.