Brazil vs Argentina (June 9th, 2012) at the Metlife Stadium, East Rutherford, New Jersey. You get match reports all over the internet, this is the matchday experience report. :)
As I sat in the subway train, en route to New Jersey for the
big game of football, two men entered the train at one of the stops and started
playing a Spanish song. The South American flavor early in the morning set the
tone for the day, as my excited father, siblings and I looked on at their
performance in delight. Street performers and interesting subway passengers are
a common sight in New York which I have come to expect at every visit. But as
far as sport goes, even after many visits to the United States, the stereotype
persisted that the major sports were basketball, baseball and the OTHER
football. THE sport of football as we know it, and soccer as it is known there
has a relatively smaller following. Even though the beautiful game has largely
grown in popularity and following in the United States over the past few years,
my expectations of the game atmosphere were largely influenced by the
stereotypical image of the average American Sports Joe.
As the Spanish song ended, and the performers parted ways at
a following stop, one of the Joes entered. With every stop, the number of Joes
in football jerseys became a recurring sight on the train, making me excited
about the game. Joe, who is a big sports buff in America, is mostly focused on
the NBA and NFL for the most part, but is a casual follower of soccer. Hence, Joe would appreciate the
big game not like the frenzied crowds of Europe, Africa or South America, but
the casual first-timer on the way to his first football game, very much like
me. Even though I am a football fanatic, I soon discovered that a football game
in the stadium is very much different from the games I watch on TV.
At the New York Penn Station, where we had to catch the
final train for the stadium, long queues for train tickets abounded, the
station packed with fans. I immediately knew I was in the right place as I got
in line behind all kinds of people clad in different football memorabilia. Time
passed quickly in the long queue as fans shared their thoughts on the game, the
players, and placed some bets.
“You’ll buy a Brazil jersey when Argentina wins,” a guy challenged
his friend standing in front of me in the queue.
“Right!” he replied, “And I expect the same from you: money
on the Argentina jersey when Brazil lose.”
The waiting lounge for the train was packed, and a stampede
followed as soon as the platform number for the first train was announced. We
joined the throng, eager to beat the traffic to the stadium. As the crowd
started moving toward the train, the magic started. The Joes had started to
cheer and sing anthems, which raised the ambiance of the train station
considerably. Once we were part of the flowing traffic, there was no need to
even take a look at the direction signs above us. We sang and cheered our way
to the train, and climbed on board.
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| Queueing outside the Metlife Stadium. |
Twenty emotionally charged minutes later, the excitement
spilled outside the train as we walked toward the Metlife Stadium, which now
loomed over us. Making our way to the entrance, I saw that the audience for the
game composed of a varied mix of people. The wide appeal of a Brazil and
Argentina game was not to be under-estimated, I thought. The melting pot of the
Big Apple had spilled out its global mix of populace, who had all formed their
alliances in yellow, or blue and white.
Every Asian, Christian, child, African, Muslim, European,
Jew, woman, American, atheist, man, and Arab got neatly into new queues outside
the stadium gates. A loud cheer erupted from this diverse assembly of
enthusiasts, all clad in the colors of football; we were nearly in. The
unanimous roar from the crowd was like a vuvuzela honk that jolted my sixth
sense awake. There was an unearthly presence rising up around me which I had
never experienced before. My soul felt elated and excited as I spun my head in all
directions. The people went in one by one, but those waiting in line were
rejoicing: colored wigs were put on with cheers and laughter; some musical
notes were played on trumpets and drums. A large group of people had already
made it inside the gates, and a loud cheer could be heard from their direction;
the groups waiting in line followed, louder this time. The light clouds parted,
bathing us in sunlight for a brief moment in the pleasant afternoon. It was the
spirit of the beautiful game, the crowd’s rituals and excitement had summoned
the spirit of football in all its high energy.
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| The fans climbing the escalators in the stadium. |
The last barriers parted, and we entered the sea of fans
making its way up the escalators to the stands. The spirit was much stronger
here, and the escalators were packed with energy. Fans above us, below us, all
waved their flags in the air; and then came the singing. In the melodies above
me, I could make out a few words like: “Ole
Aalay Oa Argentina!” but most of the words dissolved into the spirited
ambiance. The Brazilians below us on the escalator heard some of the Argentine
songs, and started off louder with their own as we continued to move further up.
On the outside, we could see the queues at the gate getting longer, a field of
yellow and blue getting bigger and bigger. The American Joes proved my
stereotype wrong, and I saw that the football spirit was alive in America as
well. In fact, she dictated an ambiance of unmatched energy and enthusiasm
which can only be found in a football match.
I was nearly jumping on the escalators with excitement; a
weird voice in my head wanted me to push the guy in front of me off the
escalator so I could run on ahead. On the landing, we searched frantically for
our stand. I spotted the directions and marched on ahead, leaving my brother to
catch up behind me. Other fans darted from side to side in front of me, buying
hot dogs, beer and popcorn from the concession stands. Loud music started
blaring from inside the stadium as I counted the stand numbers passing over my
head: 327… 326. Suddenly, the queues for the food disappeared as the fans
started running.
THE TEAMS WERE ENTERING THE ARENA!!!!!!!
325…! 324… FINALLY!!! The atmosphere suddenly spiked as some
of the loudest roars I had heard erupted around me. All the games I had ever
watched on TV, all the FIFA matches ever played on my PlayStation, all the
football documentaries I had ever seen, had never prepared me for THAT moment.
As I turned left into the stand entrance, the high sun glare blinded my vision
for an instant before I could catch sight of the field. One blinding glare
later, I stood dumbstruck. Numb. Feet frozen. Jaw dropped. Eyes popping out of
their sockets.
The flair and energy of a packed stadium, so alive,
cheering, screaming, and singing, just coming out of a dark tunnel and hitting
you in the face for the first time was a mind-blowing moment. I just stood
there and took it all in, the sea of fans above me, below me, all around me;
all seated around a gleaming, green football pitch with two shining goalposts
at each end. The loud orchestra music overwhelmed the stadium into a state of
frenzy, mixing in with the roar of the fans; the loud cheers fueled the game’s
spirit as she ushered out the two titans of football. Both teams filed out in
the center of the bright, green pitch as we looked on, frozen for a moment at
the stand entrance. My heart had never beaten faster, and I nearly dropped my
camera to the floor. As I opened my mouth to say “OH MY GOD!”, “Woah!” or “WOW!”
the desi in me took over and what came out was a long, “OYE HOYE HOYE HOYEE!!!”
As the national anthems for both teams began, I started
walking up the stairs to find my seat. Walking upstairs, I noticed how many of
the fans knew the words of the instrumental national anthem music playing. The
audience was not merely composed of casual fans, but hardcore Brazilian and
Argentine fans from their native countries. This made the atmosphere even more
exciting, and I felt the adrenaline rush as I took my place on my seat and
geared up for kickoff. What followed in the next ninety minutes was one of the
best games of football in recent history.
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| Kickoff! |
The game kicked off, and the spirit went to work
immediately. She used both, the action on the pitch as well as the sea of fans,
to command the power and excitement of the arena. The tempo for the game was
set in the opening minutes when both sides started playing some high quality,
fast paced and open-ended football. The Brazilians commandeered the ball in the
opening minutes to push Argentina back into their own half. The spirit was an
invisible puppeteer in the arena, pulling on the strings of her players with
one hand and pushing up the sound levels of the crowd higher with the other.
Considering it was my first experience watching a football game from the
stands, it became hard for me at points to pay attention to the action on the
field. The surrounding chants, shouts and cheers were too enchanting to ignore
and I succumbed to their magic as a stranded sailor to a siren’s song. The
spirit flew around the stadium as the fans rose to create Mexican waves. A
giant oscillation of magic, you could see her move as the fans’ arms shot
through the air. I rose up excitedly as she went the entire length of the
stadium and gave my raised arms a high-five.
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| Metlife Stadium, June 9th. 81,994 fans were in for a treat. |
Ba-ba-ba ba BANG!!
*whistle*
A man further down the row on my left was drumming hard on
the plastic seat in front of him. The seat’s occupant was standing, whirling a
blue and white scarf in circles above his head, oblivious to the drumming on
his seat.
The drummer, with a Brazil flag tied around his head like a
bandana, went at it again: Ba-ba-ba ba
BANG! Two rows down, directly in front of me, another spectator took notice,
and put a whistle to his lips, a shrill note escaping his lips after the last
bang. They caught each other’s eye, and the drumming went louder this time:
BA-BA-BA BA BANG!!! *WHISTLE*. Among the flurry of colors and people,
more banging on seats joined the chorus, always followed by a whistle.
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| Brazilian fans rejoice after the scores level at 2-2. |
Down below us, the action on the football field grew more
fluid and dynamic. The enigmatic Brazil side pulled a series of good passing
moves to push past the Argentine defense and shot an attempt on goal. Each pass
fueled a nerve of adrenaline in the stands, the drumming hands seem bent on
breaking the seats, and the whistle got lost in the moment when everyone reflexively
jumped after the final pass of the move, the striker closing in on the keeper.
Sighs of relief and disappointment followed from both sets of fans as the ball
went wide of the posts.
Similar displays of fan power followed in the mercurial
game, the balance shifting from one side to the other. Brazil took an early
lead but Argentina recovered to make it 2-1 at the break. The stadium was abuzz
at half-time, long lines for food and the restrooms ensued; nobody wanted to
miss the second half. The atmosphere was exciting, and the spirit seemed to be
at work brewing something special for the second half.
Her presence was overwhelming as the crowd roared louder
than at the start of the game, and both teams upped the ante after the break.
Brazil bounced back to make the score 3-2. But within a few minutes, Argentina
shocked everyone by coming back into the game to make the score 3-3. The spirit
flew high around the stadium, a smile on her face as half the people in the
stadium jumped to their feet.
Had we seen it all? The crowd’s chants were resonating; the
noise could hardly be any louder now. Most fans, including myself, did not sit
down after that point in the game; there was not much time remaining.
The cheers were not dying down! I questioned myself again:
will there be a winner? The spirit’s smile broadened with every passing minute
as the stadium of yellow and blue fans glittered, cheering their heroes in the
afternoon sun. The banging on the chairs had died, and the man with the whistle
had taken over, shrill notes escaping his lips: fee- fee- fweep fweep fweep! Nearby
fans started hooting with the whistle, many took to swirling flags and scarves
over their heads.
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| An Argentina fan waves a scarf in the air after their 3rd goal. |
Time slowed down, and the minutes crawled by as both teams
continued to give some breathtaking displays of football. The spirit seemed to
be orchestrating all the sound in the arena now, the players matching the tempo
of the game with the noise level of their fans. Her eyes glinted; did she have
a final secret in store? It was on the center of the field, in the dying
minutes, when Messi got possession of the ball; her broad smile stretched from
ear to ear as Messi dodged the first player. I instinctively rose up from my
seat, along with everyone else around me. Should I make a video? No, my hands
were too rubbery to hold the camera. He started sprinting with acres of space
in front of him. My brain lost contact with the rest of the mortal world, my
eyes fixed on the action unfolding below me. The spirit’s orchestra was rising
to a crescendo, her puppets and performers all mesmerized in the final act.
Messi was flying… My mouth was half open… The spirit soared
high above the stadium!
Next moment: the ball had wings… My hands were reaching to
pull out my hair in disbelief… The spirit had tied the Brazilian goalkeeper’s
strings in a knot and fixed him in a halfhearted futile dive.
The football was in the back of the net… The spirit was pulling my invisible strings,
forcing me into uncontrollable jumps… A volcano erupted as the crescendo
peaked! The lava was finally flowing now, a mosaic of blue and white, all
jumping, cheering and singing. A clash of the titans indeed, the game between
these two giants lived up to all its hype.
The match experience was simply above and beyond my level of expectations. All the roars from the crowd, the wild jubilation and energy was simply magical. I figured the spirit of the beautiful game held an eternal presence, from the streets of Karachi to the shores of America. That day was just one of those days when she was out stronger and clearer than before.
And a very Happy Belated Birthday, Lionel Messi! Your hat-trick that day added
the perfect seal to one of the greatest experiences of my life. May your performances keep
blurring the boundaries that define the great and the impossible. :)
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| My siblings and I... Hat-trick! |
