Discovering the universality of fanhood at Taizé

By Ian Holliday

Cross-posted at Po-Tee-Weet?

It’s been a while since my last column for 6S1B, partly due to the fact that I was out of the country from May 29 to June 8. But now I’m back, and I’d like to talk about my experience staying at the Taizé Community as they relate to the 2010 World Cup and soccer’s position as the greatest sport in the world.

Without going into too much detail, Taizé is a small village in France about 100 km north of Lyon. It’s famous for the monastic community that welcomes 17 to 29 year-olds to join them in prayer, work, and discussion groups year-round. Most people go for one week at a time, from Sunday to Sunday, which is what I did.

This was my second trip to Taizé, and one of my favorite parts of the experience this year was meeting people from all over the world and talking soccer with them. In my time at Taizé I met a Mexican who had been in Germany for a 2005 Confederations Cup match against Greece, a Canadian who was unaware his nation even fielded a team (we had a good laugh about the 2010 Olympic Men’s Hockey Final though), a Portuguese-born French citizen who promised to support his country of birth if it came up against his country of residence, and several Germans who were surprised to find an American who could name more than one player (Michael Ballack) on their team.

In fact, surprise was a common reaction I received from casual fans realizing they were talking to an American who was more knowledgeable than them. My girlfriend (who made the trip with me) was forever explaining, “This is not normal. He’s not a normal American.” Soon, however, the weirdness of the situation would inevitably dissipate and we’d just be people talking about a common interest. And you’d be surprised how common the interest can be.

It soon became apparent that being a soccer fan the week before a World Cup is a universal experience: Everyone cautiously hopes their team will do well, while simultaneously dismissing their realistic chances. The Mexican was worried that El Tri wouldn’t be able to handle the pressure and the hostile crowd in the opening match against South Africa. The Germans predicted that their team would crash out in the round of 16. For my part, I submitted that I could see the U.S. failing to advance from its group. The only difference, I suggested, is that in this country that scenario wouldn’t be a national tragedy (someday, maybe, but not right now).

Remember what it was like to be living in Red Sox nation prior to 2004? Remember the sense that inevitable crushing defeat was always waiting in the darkness of the near future, waiting to roll the ball through someone’s legs or give up a walk-off home-run? Remember the hoping against hope that this year would be different, even though you knew in your heart it wouldn’t be? That’s what it’s like to be a soccer fan before the World Cup, no matter what country you’re from (except maybe Brazil).

This is what makes soccer great. It unites the world in the total agony of fan-hood in a way that no other sport can.

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