The day starts off on a worrying note. On the bus ride across Lexington, I don’t see a single USA shirt or even a hint that the World Cup is going on. The discouraging signs continue when I arrive at the West Sixth Brewery, the local American Outlaws bar, at 11 a.m. - one hour to game time. The building is split into two rooms: one with long tables and a giant screen projected on the wall (which is where the American Outlaws and most of the crowd are), and a bigger room which looks like a cross between a typical bar and a coffee shop. Dismayingly, however, the place is pretty empty, with about fifty people in a building which looks like it can hold three hundred, maybe four. Unlike Indianapolis or Philadelphia, there is very little chanting. Just a bunch of people talking and chattering away, ordering food, drinking beer, and waiting for the match to start.
A couple German fans show up, but the red, white, and blue dominate the scene. There is much less official US Soccer gear here than in Indy or Philly. Instead, people threw on whatever red, white, and blue gear they can find.. I see a “back-to-back World War champs” shirt, a “Reagan Bush ’84” cap worn by someone who doesn’t look like he was alive for that election, and (my favorite) a fantastic blue bro-tank with the words “God, USA, SEC” in red letters.
Thirty minutes before the game, the crowd has grown to approximately seventy people, and I go to get lunch at the seafood restaurant attached to the bar. When I return ten minutes later, everything has changed. The crowd has swelled to 120, and chanting has taken hold in the AO room. There are the old standbys (“I Believe” and “When the Yanks come marching in”), but there are also more creative chants that I never heard in the other two cities (including Seattle’s “Boom Boom Clap”). However, the chants don’t last as long as they did in the other cities. People keep filing into the brewery so that by game time the place is standing room only.
The Star Spangled Banner is started at the end of “Boom Boom Clap,” so most don’t realize what’s going on. Once they do, they start singing, and become the first bar on my trip to actually sing in time with the music on the TV. Afterwards, the German anthem is played. In stark contrast to Philadelphia, the crowd listens to the opposing anthem quietly, and there is even a little applause at the end.
Then, the whistle blows, and for the third time this month, the USA kicks off.
From the beginning, Germany dominates. This creates a nervousness in the room which lends itself to an intense atmosphere. Giant cheers erupt for the smallest things: a save by Tim Howard, the USA winning a throw-in, etc.
It is interesting being in this bar just a couple days after watching the USA in Philadelphia. The Lexington crowd is equally as partisan as Philly, demanding cards for innocuous German fouls. On the other hand, unlike Philadelphia, Lexington is extremely positive. They give shouts of encouragement after failed American attacks, including a roar for Graham Zusi firing a shot a foot over the bar.
As the game gets into full swing, the crowd gets more and more into it. Before kickoff, it was mostly the dozen or so AO members in the room who were chanting. Now, everyone participates in every chant, to deafening effect. It only intensifies when it is announced that Portugal has taken the lead over Ghana (which was not being shown at the bar), giving the USA a little breathing room.
There is surprisingly little grief when Muller scores Germany’s goal. The crowd does give one cry of anguish, but it quickly turns to chatter about how we still are two goals safe. It isn’t the end of the world.
Then news comes that Ghana has scored. A couple people cheer, but only until others inform them that this means one more Ghana goal eliminates the USA. Nervousness abounds. A little boy next to me has pulled up the Portugal-Ghana game on his phone, and I start paying almost as much attention to that as to the USA game.
The anxiety turns the crowd hostile. Whereas before only shouts of encouragement could be heard, now the fans start to yell at players for giving the ball away and making mistakes. Bradley is, yet again, the main recipient of the criticism. It only ends when, ten minutes from time, it is announced that Cristiano Ronaldo has scored to give Portugal a 2-1 lead.
Relief. A roar of jubilation goes up, as big as if the U.S. had just scored (albeit shorter). The nervous atmosphere disappears instantly, and relaxed chatter takes over. Suddenly time is passing a lot quicker. And before we know it, the final whistle blows.
The cheer that goes up is not nearly as loud as anything I heard in Indianapolis or Philadelphia, but it serves its purpose. A chant of “we want Belgium” (to the tune of “we want ‘Bama”) begins. When it is announced that the final whistle has gone in Portugal-Ghana and that the U.S. has officially advanced, a smaller cheer goes up. Most don’t seem to have heard, having stopped paying much attention once the USA’s game ended.
The crowd files out with astonishing speed after the game. Many are gone within fifteen minutes, and by the time Belgium-South Korea starts only twenty remain.
Perhaps this shows that the crowd were more interested in cheering on the USA than in watching the World Cup, or maybe it was the two hour wait in between games that deterred people. Either way, in Lexington it is apparent that soccer plays second fiddle, but the soccer-loving niche is as passionate as in the big cities (if on a smaller scale).
No comments:
Post a Comment