Behind Enemy Lines: Inside the Belly of the Beast.

John Harbour
Aug 26, 2017 · 6 min read

As I was leaving my apartment for the journey to meet my friend in Newark, my wife stopped me just as I hit the door. “Do you think it’s wise to wear your NYCFC kit into the belly of the beast?” She asked. “I’m not sure about wise, but necessary,” I replied. I was not just going to Red Bull Arena in my NYCFC kit to watch the match surrounded by a couple thousand of my fellow supporters, I was going deep behind enemy lines to pre-game and tailgate with the Viking Army, one of the Red Bulls supporter groups. Wearing my team’s color was a must.

The thing about soccer in the United States, and its supporters groups in general, is that although we like to talk a tough game, and occasional violence does break out, our groups are not the violent, militant style that pervades Europe. Top tier football is nascent in the US. MLS is just twenty-three years old. And although we have a long history, the previous leagues are mere memories or, with a few exceptions, survive on low attendance. Because of that, even though we are on opposite sides when it comes to team selection, we are all a part of the family that is nurturing this sport to grow to the size it should be given our population. We are only now coming into a time where team loyalty is handed down parent to child. We are only now growing to a point where those men and women who have supported a team for twenty years are having children and are sharing their passion. We are only now coming to a time where your loyalty to a team is more than just the team, but about family roots and legacy. Or rebellion if you choose another side.

So, for now, I was safe from harm. Sure there would be taunts and insults, and it would be my job to take them in stride, stand tall, and return in kind. Show no fear. Stand proud. And behave with the awareness that I knew where I was and of my place. I was a visitor. I was in their house. This last point is important to me. With a few exceptions, traveling supporters groups behave like wanna-be hooligans. You don’t visit the house of a stranger and rip apart their sofas or steal their seats. You don’t stand on the second floor and pour beer on their children and then throw the cans at them. You don’t kick their dog. You don’t shoulder-check their older son on the way to the kitchen. In short you show respect. There will be those who disagree with me on this point, but you can support your team fully and still be respectful. The two are not mutually exclusive.

The Man in Seat 9 with his Red Bull escorts.

The first stop was to grab a couple of pints and dinner at Catas, the Viking Army home bar. Remember those movies where the cowboy walks into a bar and the piano player stops playing and everyone turns and looks. Yup. Russ had come from work so unfortunately was not in full Red Bull regalia, so it took a moment for those looking to see his Red Bull scarf. Satisfied that the interloper was well chaperoned, they returned to their drinks and the PSG match on the television. I noticed one other NYCFC kit sitting at the bar, also chaperoned. We nodded. It’s always good to not be the only one.

When the others joined our party I became fully embedded. I was shown a Facebook post that had just gone out from someone in the bar…”I just came into the bar and there are two shitty fans here. WTF?” Apparently I and the other City supporter were now Facebook famous, but nobody said anything to our face. Except for the Viking Army stalwart with the Hartford Whaler’s jersey who asked when we (NYCFC) were moving. Soon, I replied. This would be a big theme for the night, the unfortunate occurrence of one of our home games needing to be moved to Hartford because of a conflict with a Yankees make up game. It was an easy joke and played well to their standard taunt of NYCFC playing in a baseball stadium, and not as creative as they’ve been in the past. The TIFO of Lampard, Villa, and Pirlo on canes — well done. The TIFO of Dopey of the seven dwarves — inspired. But this joke was just a bit too easy. The saving grace of the entire taunt was the actual mascot from the Hartford Whalers on hand to help lead chants in the section 101. Even the Red Bull front office got in on it by flashing City Notes on the tv screens inside the concourse providing facts about the one game move to Hartford. This is slightly ironic coming from a team who for years played in Giants stadium to 75,000 empty seats and 5,000 fans. Maybe that’s why they key on it so much… reminds them that they lost the MetroStars in return for a soccer specific stadium.

After drinks and dinner we moved to the tailgate party. I had received a free Red Bull/Heineken scarf at the bar and was advised that I might need to use it as ransom to ensure my safety. Again, as we walked into the thick red pack, all eyes were on the City kit. I could feel the burn on the back of my neck. We proceeded to acquire beer, but the taps were dry. They probably were… or maybe it was because I had the wrong kit.

Three Points F.C. partners, Russell McKenzie and the Man in Seat 9.

See Russ and John.
Russ and John support their respective teams.
Russ and John trade insults and argue the finer points of the match.
Russ and John don’t descend into violence.
Be like Russ and John.

Once inside the arena, we were able to meet up with colleagues martin bihl and Mark Fishkin for a few pre-game niceties before grabbing our seats in section 201, above the three Red Bull supporter groups. Being a derby match they were in full voice for the entire ninety. Whales and all.

The enemy was accepting. A few complemented me on the courage to wear the kit outside of the safe zone of the visiting supporter section. When NYCFC scored and drew first blood, I clapped, and then sat, smiling quietly at the pitch. I didn’t turn around and taunt the crowd. I didn’t chant “NYC, NYC.” I let Russ stew in his anger in the seat next to me. I was a polite guest. When the Red Bulls evened the score on the penalty kick, I stood, crossed armed and scowling while those around me high-fived each other. The crowd was jubilant. Smoke flares erupted filling the air with the acrid smell of soccer joy. The man in front of me turned to high five me, looked at my kit, and hesitated. We then shook hands. It was a moment of civility behind enemy lines. It was two warriors well met. It was the way rivals were supposed to behave.


For those who don’t know our history, The Man in Seat 9 and Russ McKenzie met three years ago while writing for Last Word on Sports. He, covering the Red Bulls, and I, NYCFC. We became fast friends and launched Red State Blue State Soccer, a podcast and website where we would have spirited, civil discourse over football and our respective teams. RSBS began to feel a bit too restrictive to the themes we wished to write about and discuss and so, we decided to launch Three Pints FC in September (http://www.threepointsfc.com), where we can explore topics from a starting point of football with forays into beer, food, travel, and social issues as we desire.

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John Harbour

Written by

Incurable wanderlust. Author of Nighthawks and Diary of a Hippie: A Real-Life Journal of What to Expect During a Total Hip Replacement. www.diaryofahippie.com

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