A Reminder of Why I Love Football

I just got home from watching Rayo Vallecano and Athletic Club play at Estadio de Vallecas. I couldn’t wait to write this because the excitement from the stadium is still within me. I should be in bed, getting some rest before school tomorrow where I’ll be talking about biodiversity with the fifth graders, but I have a few things to say first. 

This game was unlike any other I’ve ever been to, in the US or in Spain. I didn’t receive any of the uncomfortable stares I’ve gotten used to when I go to games by myself. Though I didn’t see any other women watching alone, I saw a lot of families and couples, which put me at ease. 

I’ll do my best to set the scene: The seats weren’t numbered because most of the placards had fallen off, or the sharpie that replaced the placards was too worn to make out. I walked to my row and chose a seat between an American family and an older Spanish couple, the man decked out in a yellow beret, the woman waving an Athletic scarf. Rayo scored in the first half, to the chagrin of the supporters around me. I looked at the only scoreboard in the stadium, expecting to see a replay, but it showed only the score. A few minutes later, the Spaniard with the yellow beret pulled out his phone and showed his wife a picture that I assume his friend had sent him. It showed the three of us on a TV screen, and I was making a disgusted face. He zoomed in on me and tilted his phone so I could see, and we all chuckled. When halftime came, they asked me to watch their bags as they went to the bathroom. Once they were back, we started chatting, and I learned that they had driven to Vallecas that day to watch the game. They were surprised to learn I was from the US, and told me they thought I was one of the Rayo players’ girlfriends. I conceded that I wasn’t, and was supporting Athletic. They told me that I needed to go to a game in Bilbao at San Mamés, showed me photos of them with Nico Williams, and said that the Williams family is muy maja. Very nice. The man took a photo of me and his wife, on both his phone and mine. They said that Estadio de Vallecas is one of the safest and most family-oriented stadiums they’ve been to, and I smiled, having felt this when I walked in.

In the second half, Athletic equalized and shortly after scored the winning goal. I rejoiced with the Athletic supporters around me, who each gave me a hug and kiss on the cheek to celebrate. As the game ended and the Athletic players walked to our corner of the pitch to thank the fans, the away section roared louder than they had all game. I stood there, in awe of the passion being displayed. Then, a flash of green, red, white, and black caught my eye, and in front of me two men held up the Palestinian flag. Emotion struck me as I was reminded of the reason I love football. It’s never solely about the game or the players. It’s about what unites the people watching. Perhaps the people who are part of it, too, since we have to remember that the players are also people. The love for the game brings us together. Something unserious, yet powerful. The Palestinian flag in front of me made me think about how closely football and humanity are tied, and the way that the community built through football can be used to demonstrate support for much larger causes. This is why I feel so strongly about the sport, and its constant reminder that we all have a responsibility to stand up for humanity.

Finally, the players left the pitch, the spectators began to exit the stadium, and it was time to say goodbye to my new friends. Tal vez nos vemos en otro campo. Un placer, cariño.