Seattle is known for its rain, its coffee, and to a growing number of people it’s known for the Sounders. Wall to wall lime green, scarves everywhere, and soccer being talked about freely. Can you imagine it? For some reason I always pictured the American soccer fan conversing with their fellow brethren in hushed voices in the back of a dimly lit bar. Wearing your Premiership club jersey in public was ok in certain places, but wearing your MLS jersey? Who are you? What team is that? I was getting questions about my Sounders jersey in San Diego, and for obvious reasons, it doesn’t blend into the crowd at all.
But in Seattle this last weekend, the thought that MLS wasn’t a major league experience was forgotten. I took my younger brother and sister to their third Sounders game, my second. I’ve watched so many on television, but actually getting back up to the northwest from San Diego or Sacramento was always tough, and getting to a Sounders game was tougher. The weekends never lined up, they were always away or in the off-season.
But I wore my green jersey loud and proud wherever I went. And here I was, in the rainy Mecca that is Qwest Field, or Centurylink Field, or whatever it will be called in a few years. The name isn’t important, it’s the atmosphere, the Seattle Sounders experience.
Before the game, we drove around looking for parking, and passed countless people strolling the sidewalks in green and black and blue. Some had set up a pop-up tent and were drinking local craft beer as the rain cascaded down around them. Awesome. People tailgating on the side of the road for soccer. In America. Yes. We found a parking spot then walked down the road to the Pyramid Alehouse. I wanted to get to Seattle from my family’s house in Olympia early to avoid traffic and watch the warm ups. I coach a U-16 boys team, and am constantly trying to find new cool things to bring to practices. A little nerdy, but whatever. Just the amount of people proudly wearing their Sounders gear and talking about the game was overwhelming. “Is Brad Evans healthy? What do you think of the new jerseys? Columbus looks good this year, but we can take them!”
I’m a die-hard San Franscisco 49ers and Giants fan, and a huge Sacramento Kings fan, so I’m used to having intense conversations about sports all the time. But passionate, informative MLS fans? I thought there were only a handful of us, like spies in the CIA. But here I was, surrounded by people who not just liked the same thing as me, but loved it. These people stand in the rain, for 90 plus minutes, and are watching intently. Every pass, cross and shot. These were my people! I had been to one Sounders game back in 2009. It was just as amazing, but time had passed and the memories of the passion and joy had dwindled. But here I was, back in the thick of it. I kept saying to my brother and sister, “It’s so good to see this. All of these fans. I’m so happy!” I meant it.
After a few beers we started our trek over to the stadium. More people were out on the streets, and the rain was starting and stopping constantly. Vendors were out on the street selling hotdogs and rip-off tee shirts, like a real sport. I say that with such disgust, because it has always been a real sport to me. I played when I was younger, as I do now. I used to referee AYSO games when I was 14. It’s easily my favorite sport, but now there were numbers behind it, and they were all like me. There was a man holding a huge sign saying “Repent Your Sins!” and “God Hates Greed!” and another one of his cohorts on a bullhorn preaching. I’d seen these things before, outside of AT&T Park on some cold, San Francisco night. Even this was a sign that soccer had made it.
The game itself was a blur. I remember Kenny Cooper’s goal, looking down the sideline from our seat and watching him sprint, almost gazelle like, towards the keeper. I remember a yellow card given to one of the Columbus players for a very blatant flop. I felt like it happened three feet from me, but it was more like 100. I remember the rain. Sometimes it would pour, then suddenly it would stop and you could almost see a hint of blue sky above us.
But most of all, I remember looking around the stands and seeing 40,000 fans, standing, watching carefully. Cheers for the good passes and tackles, boo’s for the Columbus players. These aren’t just fans, they are students of the game. There’s no gimmicks like at other sporting events to keep you distracted. No cheerleaders and no half-court shots. People were there for the soccer, to support the team, and in a way, to bond with complete strangers if only for 90 minutes.
The most vivid memory is when the Sounders lost. A stoppage time goal, off of a quick corner kick. A hush went throughout the crowd. We all stopped and looked at each other as if to say “did that just really happen?” And then, the boo’s began to rain down on the field. The referee wouldn’t let the Sounders do a quick restart because Columbus was celebrating, and that led to more boo’s. And as the referees walked towards the corner flag and the tunnel, literally right in front of us, a beer, thrown with such grace, flew a foot in front of the four-man team and exploded on the ground. That was the turning moment. If people care enough about a sport to throw beers at the officials, you’ve really made it.
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