I’m told this is a soccer town.
I’m told this with relative frequency, in fact, by prophets young and old, male and female in Portland. I’m told this by people I never asked. I’m told this by the existence of an MLS franchise in place of minor league baseball at Jeld-Wen Field and by the growing number of green jerseys I run into on the MAX lately. I’m told this in a bar at Second and Ash, and then I’m told again 20 minutes later. There is, it would seem, no debate on the matter.
I’m told this is a soccer town.
I’m told this with relative frequency, in fact, by prophets young and old, male and female in Portland. I’m told this by people I never asked. I’m told this by the existence of an MLS franchise in place of minor league baseball at Jeld-Wen Field and by the growing number of green jerseys I run into on the MAX lately. I’m told this in a bar at Second and Ash, and then I’m told again 20 minutes later. There is, it would seem, no debate on the matter.
Not that I would’ve argued the point anyway. I’ll admit I’m a snowbird when it comes to soccer—I couldn’t, in good faith, even claim to be a casual fan. I’ve been known to tune in at three in the morning when two teams play on the far edge of the map for what is apparently the best cup currently available, and I’ve watched (some of) the European Championship twice now, though I didn’t watch the final tournament this year.
I watched it in 2008 and enjoyed it immensely, so I made a vague mental note to make time to watch at least the semifinals and final of this year’s tournament. After I missed both semifinals, I issued myself a stern and solemn resolution to watch the final.
And then I just didn’t. This is the extent of my relationship with the most popular sport in the world.
That makes me the average American soccer fan. I know I would’ve enjoyed the hell out of the tournament, but I’m just not at the point yet where it’s an obvious mandatory commitment. And that’s a shame because I’ve seen the highlights and read some articles about the event, and I watched (some of) it the last time around.
I know what a great sport soccer is, and I know how compelling it can be when it is played at its highest level. But I’m not a die-hard, and I would venture to guess that I’m still in the majority, even though I live in the Northwest.
In the same way that having a minor league baseball team in Portland brought the sport to a lot of people who wouldn’t have otherwise chosen it, the Timbers put soccer on the minds of local residents whether they realized it or not. It became a topic of conversation in the community and acted as both an outlet for the restless American fans who grew up watching soccer on a screen and as an introduction to the uninformed mass of Oregonians.
That’s why I’m making a note to go to a Timbers game this year. I still won’t know all the rules, and I’ll probably go with more serious fans, and they’ll probably wish I hadn’t joined them. And I certainly won’t be able to explain what’s happening, or say anything beyond whether I like it. With soccer as part of the conversation, though, I might eventually get to the point where I’m just glad it’s there.
