Soccer, Football, Fùtbol, Calcio

Cyprus 2 Italia 3

I've had the pleasure of playing following and generally loving the world's game my whole life. Although the football instruction of America is hardly worthy of European comparison, I slowly developed my own knowledge of the game, one fuzzy televised match at a time. And yet, even in the last few years following football in Europe like Americans follow the NFL or NBA, the football culture in America remains underground. One must go searching for that atmosphere of mutual respect and understanding that only football creates. Pre 21, I was usually confined to my basement, amid a tangle of cords, stretching from a power strip to my computer and finally resting behind the tv, providing me with a laggy, staticy picture to represent the entirety of the English Premier League. Outside, for a football fan in Seattle, you're inclined to stop every person displaying the emblem of your club, seeing as this is often a rare occurance. More often than not, they're just as clueless as to the patch on their chest as to the game that they have decided to advertise that day. It's quite dissapointing.

This is my first journey to Europe and thus, my first direct experience with European football. Perhaps I was disapointed at first. That not everyone played in the streets. Or that not everyone had Parma flags waving from the rooftops. But that disapointment was soon gone. Italians treat football like Americans treat American games such as baseball or basketball. It's not something that's out there every hour of every day. But it's more of an assumed knowlege and assumed passion. Fabio Cannavaro is a nationally recognized name. He, more than Guiseppi Garibaldi, is a national hero.

I attended the last of the group-stage qualifying matches for Italy. Up against relatively diminutive Cyprus, Italy had already secured a spot in the 2010 cup. Unfortunatly, this meant that they rested most of their starters. Buffon, arguably the best keeper in the world currently, sat. But Cannavaro, Iaquinta, Cameranesi, Gilardino and 7 other world class players took the field.

It always stuns me, the beauty that football is capable of on and off the pitch. I witnessed the innagural game for Sounders FC at Quest Field; a sight that brought the MLS commisioner to tears. A sea of green flags, scarves and painted faces. A scene that Frank Lampard of Chelsea FC would later describe as fit to be in Europe. I saw the Sounders take on Champion's League victors, FC Barcelona in a friendly. I witnessed Lionel Messi, Xavi Alonso and Andreas Iniesta effortlessly humble the home team with a continuous stream of beautiful play, pinpoint precision and deadly accuracy. But this past night was the apex.

Not only is international play the best in terms of skill, but it unites countries like nothing else can. The passion that exists in Italy is incredible. From the national anthem American soccer and European football part ways. People scream, people clap and sing at the top of their lungs. The anthem is not just a mandatory homage, it's a rally point for the masses. The game progressed. Fans sat down at points but the attention never snaped from the game at hand. Frequently chants of I-TAL-IA! I-TAL-IA! would rise from either end of the stadium, engulfing the 22 players on the pitch in a cacaphony of national pride. And when we scored... even down 2-nil... Old men were stirred in to a frenzy next to young girls no older than 10. The energy, joy and pride were ubiquitous. Although I didn't speak Italian, by the virtue that I was emotionally attached to the play as well, I was accepted.

As Italy took the lead in stoppage time, I jumped and shouted with the rest of them. The captain from Cyprus exited the pitch for a substitute, graciously clapping for the Italians who created the atmosphere. In reciprocation, the fans gave him a standing ovation. I couldn't help it. In the face of the passion, the emotion and overwhelming respect for the game I love, I too felt pride in mia Italia.