Backpass: The sport is the supporters. Otherwise, it’s just a game.

All that we miss, and all that we pray we will return to.

Oh how we miss this view. Photo Credit: John Babiak, @photog_johnb

You stand shoulder to shoulder in the endless Colorado sunshine, warm asphalt under your feet, with the throngs of fellow burgundy-clad fanatics, slowly inching up the queue. Every five feet, you re-adjust the clear plastic bag you brought with some extra odds and ends so that you can look at your phone to see if the starting lineup is in. A yellow-jacketed event staff person does a halfhearted effort at a pat-down as you stick your belongings on a table. The lady at the front of the line scans the barcode on your phone and prints you out the flimsy, curled ticket with your aisle and row on it. You head through the steel gates and into that concrete bowl with a boundless stretch of green at its center. Just as you wonder to yourself ‘how do they keep the grass so perfect? Why can’t my lawn look like that?’, the sprinklers go on and you remember ‘Right. Water it seventeen times a day - that’s the secret.’

Rather than head right to your seat, you stop by the store in the corner to see if there’s any good deals on merch. You quickly remember that you literally own at least two of every item the Colorado Rapids sell - picnic blanket, beer cozy, beach towel, beer tap, vintage kits, alternate kits, goalkeeper kits, official scarves, supporters group scarves, commemorative player acquisition scarves, half-and-half one-time event scarves. You even have a stuffed animal from the 2015 All Star Game. Why? Because it was a thing that you didn’t already have. You resist the urge to buy a hat that is the same as one you already have but now comes as a snapback instead of a fitted cap. Perhaps because you know that’s dumb. Perhaps because your bank account has $8.23 left in it. Perhaps because your wife will roll her eyes so damn hard at you. Perhaps all three.

You take a lap around the concourse - always clockwise, because once you took it counterclockwise and they lost to RSL that day. You stop by 117 to see Chris and Richard. Richard gives you a big hug, and spills beer on you. You see the Dippin’ Dots (TM) stand already has a 45 minute line and you think ‘How?’ and ‘What?’ You see John and David and Jenn and Matt and Joan and Mark and Jose and Tyler and Sarah in their respective sections (Tyler is still complaining that they took down section 101 and moved the supporters to 117. You smile and nod and think ‘You say that every time I see you, Tyler.) You get nachos and a beer - but only because the line at GB’s is too long and the pizza is both bad and outrageously priced. You remind yourself to get there early next game and go to the C38 tailgate, if only because you will eat and drink for $7. Also you will see Shea, and he is awesome, even though he looks down on you because the metal band you like is not thrashy enough or Norwegian or obscure. You love Shea, nonetheless.

You find your seat - because although there is still plenty of time before kickoff, you need to settle in and mentally take stock - which direction are the Rapids going to head in first? Which player will I be able to see best? Did I forget my scarf in the trunk again - and if so, what will I do when everyone holds up their scarf during the MLS entry music theme song?* You have a scarf. Phew. You also have just accidentally anointed it with nacho cheese.

The sprinklers turn off. The players emerge from the tunnel. Baldomero Toledo picks the ball off of the funny podium it is stationed on. Fireworks go off, terrifying small children nearby, but reminding you also that in the old days they also fired a cannon - which was absolutely ear-splitting, and also was a ham-fisted attempt at cross marketing with Arsenal. A photo is taken. An anthem is sung. Hands are shook. A ball is kicked. A roar is heard.

…

It has been a long, long time since I experienced any of that - not only because I moved away from Denver in 2018, but also because *almost* none of that took place in 2020. The Rapids last home game with fans in attendance was almost a year ago - March 7, 2020. The next week, all games were canceled due to pandemic. Most of us probably thought ‘I’m sure we’ll be back at it in a month.’ Eleven months later, we are still wondering.

The pandemic has scrambled everything. One thing it is truly scrambling is the simple meaning of being a soccer supporter. Because if your identity is to be a football fanatic - if you *need* to see twenty-two players duke it out on a pitch while you scream bloody murder for 96 minutes - then you have lost so, so much this past year. That isn’t meant to belittle those who have truly lost - those who have died, those who got sick and are still recovering. But it’s something a person ought to contemplate; to reckon with. One of the things I have been trained as a pastor to process is mourning, but mourning can take many forms. We sometimes have a thing we had our hearts set on that was never to be - the golden years of a beloved grandparent; an event we had our hearts on; a restaurant we never got to visit before it closed. And a soccer season that we never saw in person is one of them. I was blessed to have attended two live matches last season, as a reporter here in Pittsburgh. I speak for every sports reporter who has attended an empty-stadium match when I say *it wasn’t the same - at all*. The sport is the supporters. Otherwise, it’s just a game.

The 2021 season will take place,** and it will be the second played under the spectre of Covid. We hope that we will be able to attend - hopefully vaccinated, and with masks on, and perhaps with reduced attendance. We want to feel soccer in all its hues and colors - to experience the game with all five or six senses.***

Because its not the same on TV, anymore than talking to my mom on Facetime for the last year isn’t a substitute for her hugs or her meatloaf.

We can mourn what we lost in 2020. We can remember what soccer in person was like. We can and will wear our masks everywhere, no matter how sick of masks we are, so that we do not get sick. We can anticipate our triumphant return to a match in-person.

The game will be back in a few short weeks. The sport, in all its richness, will return soon after.

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*: A valid question now in my brain is ‘what is the MLS theme song these days?’ I remember they made a new one, and I remember Pablo Maurer made fun of it with a cyber-goths tweet (he *loves* that meme), but I literally have no idea what that song is.

**: The MLSPA and the owners are currently negotiating a new CBA after the previous one was canceled due to the ‘force majeure’ clause. I am confident that a lockout is suicide for the league and is not going to happen. I am, however, known to be wrong on rare occasions.

***: As Soccer Rabbi it is my firm belief that you experience soccer with your soul. If you disagree, read Eduardo Galeano or David Goldblatt, and then tell me the sport is not a spiritual experience. You can’t. It is.