Source : Perth Now news
I’ll admit it. I’ve underestimated the FIFA World Cup.
I know that sounds crazy when it’s the second biggest sporting event in the world after the Olympics, but there it is.
I guess I’ve never quite understood the emotion, I suppose.
I find it fascinating how for four weeks every four years, entire countries seem to put their differences aside and unite behind a football team. People who normally can’t agree on anything suddenly find themselves singing the same songs, wearing the same colours and hugging complete strangers. If FIFA staged a World Cup every year, the United Nations might find itself with a lot less work to do, I reckon.
And to a certain degree, a West Australian not quite getting it is perhaps understandable. We’ve never won the World Cup and are unlikely to ever do so. It’s a bit like Eurovision; Australia gets invited to the party, but deep down we know we’re probably not taking home the trophy.
AFL is king here and, if we’re being honest, it probably always will be. The Eagles and Dockers dominate the sporting conversation. And it’s likely more youngsters dream of kicking the winning goal in a grand final than putting it in the old onion bag in a World Cup final.
And here’s where I’ll horrify all the traditionalists. I’ve always thought that being just a little bit more high scoring would be great for football (or soccer, as the Americans keep insisting on calling it).
Yes, I understand the tactical beauty of defensive play and the excitement of low-scoring suspense, but I suspect the biggest reason nobody changes the size of the goals is the cost. It would require massive renovations to stadiums and pitches all over the world.
Anyway, leaving that to one side (all emails of complaint will be received with Barra-like cheerfulness; swear words and threats of violence not appreciated), I’ve found myself completely captivated by the fans.
The atmosphere being created by some nations has been extraordinary.
For me, Scotland sits comfortably at No.1.
The Scots haven’t appeared at a World Cup for 28 years and you can feel every bit of that longing, hope and pent-up emotion pouring out of their supporters.
When Scotland beat Haiti (ranked 83 in the world) in Boston, the scenes were magnificent. Grown men cried. One Scottish supporter described it as the best day of his life.
The famous Tartan Army took over parts of Boston before the game. There were kilts, bagpipes, singing, dancing and enough beer consumption to cause concern among local publicans.
Even rock legend Rod Stewart, whose father was Scottish, made the trip. He cancelled a concert due to illness, before somehow finding enough strength to board a private jet to Boston with his sons. Funny how sport can cure what ails you.
Not far behind Scotland on my World Cup fan rankings are the Norwegians.
What a magnificent bunch of crazies they are.
Norway has qualified for its first World Cup in 28 years and has fully embraced its Viking heritage.
First, there were the supporters performing synchronised “Viking rows” in the stands.
Then came footage of hundreds of Norwegian fans taking over Boston’s South Station, rowing their way up escalators in perfect formation.
It was bizarre, hilarious and absolutely brilliant.
The players have joined in too. Superstar Erling Haaland and his teammates posed for a dramatic photo shoot dressed as Vikings, complete with shields, weapons and longboats against a backdrop of fjords.
It looked less like a football team and more like an audition for How To Train Your Dragon.
The Aussies on tour deserve an honourable mention, too; our supporters have represented us magnificently.
There was something special about hearing Advance Australia Fair before the Socceroos’ match against Turkey in Vancouver last week.
Maybe it was the occasion. Maybe it was the sea of green and gold. Maybe it was seeing Australians gathered on the other side of the world supporting their country.
Whatever it was, our national anthem has never sounded better.
Sport has a remarkable ability to make us feel connected to something bigger than ourselves. The real magic is often found in the stands.
It’s found in fathers and daughters travelling across the world together to watch their team.
It’s found in supporters who save for years to attend one tournament.
It’s found in strangers from different countries dancing together before a match and sharing a drink afterwards.
One young Scottish supporter summed it up perfectly after her country’s victory. She said she wasn’t sure what would happen next, but she was just happy to be there, creating memories with her dad.
That’s the World Cup. And that’s why I work in sport. It’s about people.
It’s about pride. It’s about belonging.
The funny thing is, after watching Scotland, Norway and the Socceroos, I’ve realised we’re not that different here in WA. We just wear different colours.
Because if the Dockers make a grand final this season, there’ll be a Purple Army marching east like the Vikings. There’ll be songs sung louder than the Scots. There’ll be tears, hugs and probably a few beverages launched skyward. And after waiting 30 years, everyone will just be happy to be there. That’s sport.
And that’s why we love it.
