Whether you call it the world’s game, football, futbol, or simply soccer; one thing stands true. It is a bit lonely being an American soccer fan. The exchanges of goals and saves accompanied by the prideful chants and harmonious cheers of any given club or country's supporters are only matched by those of drunken college American football fans on Saturday afternoon.
I love soccer. Growing up Black in America during the 90’s soccer had no presence. On television even the NHL got more coverage. During the summer of 2006 I had just finished my freshman year of high school. I was laying around the house bored out of my mind when I decided to tune in to a soccer game. It was the Group E matchup between the US and Italy.
America drew 1-1 with Italy that game later failing to make the knockout round of 16. Italy later went on to claim the championship. That day soccer left two impression on me. The first one was seeing Brian McBride’s face covered in blood after a contested header. I remember thinking “Wow, soccer is a lot more physical than I thought.” The second was “I have a new sport to follow.”
