An Unimpassioned Defense of Soccer

The most common American objections to the Beautiful Game, other than the fact we didn’t invent it, are that it’s boring and the players are pussies. There are many legitimate reasons to dislike soccer, such as corruption, fan violence, racism, and exploitation. But for us, it’s really because there aren’t enough goals. And diving.

That being said, we’ve come a long way. When MLS debuted in 1996, teams played in the godawful palette-defying gradient uniforms ubiquitous of the mid-90s, on fields which still bore the markings of the other football they had no hope of competing with. Squads were made up of Bosnian electricians and the guy we all know who spent a semester in Spain and came back talking about things our New World minds couldn’t conceive of, like scarves and 30-hour work weeks.

Now just about every MLS team has their own stadium, properly sized and with a dedicated playing surface. Fans are more knowledgeable and organized, seeking to emulate the boisterous atmosphere of matches in other parts of the world, though it still seems forced. The league remains a primary destination for aging stars looking for one final payday, but a commitment to developing youth players has paid dividends both within MLS and for the U.S. Men’s National Team. We still go out in the Round of 16 at the World Cup, but now we actually have ambition. So in a way it’s worse.

It was wonderfully ironic that the U.S. spearheaded the investigation into FIFA’s corruption, considering that most Americans would hear the name Sepp Blatter and think he was a new Vine star. Our sense of righteousness runs deep with sports, unless it’s played by college students. It was unthinkable to us that a sport’s governing body could be wracked with scandals the way FIFA was and is; why were they not using their authority to fine players for celebrating goals, or helping club owners strong-arm the cities that support them into building new publicly-funded stadiums? We had no choice but to step in.

There is an important distinction between soccer’s club concept and what we think of as a team. FC Barcelona, one of the world’s top clubs, has a well-known motto: més que un club. More than a club. So, there are clubs, but Barcelona is better than that. Watching them, it’s hard not to come to the same conclusion. Ten midgets playing keep-away while a German goalkeeper chews holes in his gloves so he can check Twitter during the match- this is truly the game as it was meant to be played. There are other good clubs, but most of them are owned by billionaire oligarchs and the Qatari government so anything they win can be dismissed as ill-gotten and hollow. Real clubs, and those who have gone beyond the limitations of a club, call upon unseen yet unequivocally powerful forces such as “tradition” and “sectarianism” to achieve greatness.

In a way, soccer can’t be compared to other sports because for millions of people, it’s much more than that. It unites and divides, defines and aligns. It is woven into the fabric of many countries, and for some, forms a large part of their national identity. Soccer clubs are tied to a country’s history, politics, religion, and ethnography. In America, professional sports franchises frequently move to different cities, change their name, change their colors. This is inconceivable to most soccer fans around the globe. Sure, there are advertisements in constant view around the field of every professional match, massive TV deals, the aforementioned oligarchs who treat their clubs like a real life fantasy team. But as the saying goes, you play for the badge on the front of your shirt, not the Chevrolet logo on the front of your shirt.