A letter to soccer fans the world ‘round

I’m starting to get your game.

You should know that it’s not treasonous in Canada to come around later in life to soccer.

Major League Soccer came to Canada five years ago so all you really need is a British accent and a reasonable understanding of the game to be considered an expert over here.

That said there is much excitement about the Champions League semi-final that pits Toronto FC and Santos Laguna. The match is to be played Wednesday night in Torrean, Mexico.

You probably don’t know a hockey player named Sergei Fedorov but when the great Russian star was being squired by the Detroit Red Wings they took him to a baseball game.

He watched for a few innings then turned to his translator.

“Do they actually shower after this?” he asked.

Incredulity is the rule when sporting cultures collide.

That’s why it was so jarring that in addition to flashing marvelous moments of grace, a great many Santos players behaved abominably in last week’s 1-1 draw. One head-butted TFC’s Ashtone Morgan and then grabbed his own leg prompting a melee at the end of the game.

It seemed every burst of action was punctuated by a Santos player’s cartoonish attempt to draw the charity of the referee.

They were just warming up. After the game, Santos coach Benjamin Galindo spoke of the Gringos and their sympathetic referee while claiming the game was tilted from the beginning.  Santos midfielder Herculez Gomez was quoted as saying his team’s 6-1 rout of Seattle in the earlier Champions League Mexican leg would be merciful compared to the beatdown TFC would suffer in Torrean.

This week Toronto FC players sounded like they were preparing not for a soccer game but the seventh circle of hell.

“I know exactly what’s going to happen,” said TFC netminder Milos Kocic. “If we score a goal they are probably going to whine and dive around and the referee is obviously going to go for that.”

“We know what we have to do there: win the game and go to the final but we have to prepare because the temperament and the culture there is going to be crazy.”

Highly-decorated TFC coach Aron Winter is expecting an opera as much as a game.

“The most important thing is don’t go with the simulation (diving) from them or when the crowd is being hectic and doing stupid things,” he said.

Gamesmanship, from hard-rock serenades of the visitors' hotel to heightened levels of harassment is to be expected, he said.

 “I can compare Mexico with Turkey. The crowd, the people are crazy. It started days before the game in the hotel, a lot of noise, a lot of problems.”

The pre- hijinks are just the beginning.

“In this game you can expect anything,” said Ryan Johnson. “Elbows, late tackles, late kicks. Guys thumping on your legs. Things like that are going to happen. There is no need for broken legs. Guys have to keep an eye on players coming from your blind side because it’s going to happen.”

All this leads me to one conclusion.

These people are friggin’ nuts.

Which brings you smack against another truth. That’s soccer.

Toronto FC’s principal sponsor is a bank, the very symbol of financial stability and good governance. The wealth of Toronto, its skyscrapers and the CN tower loom over BMO Field, monuments to the country’s affluence. A massive trade center sits a couple of hundred yards away and Lake Ontario, incomprehensibly vast and inviting, provides the gusts that chill and later in the year cool the grounds. Hours before the match in Toronto, Santos players were captured on social media, their green track suits dotting the downtown. They were shopping.

The Toronto Star’s incomparable Cathal Kelly points out Santos’ home grounds was the site of a gunfight outside its gates last summer that prompted fans to reflexively crouch behind their seats. Torreon, a city the size of Calgary, has been ravaged by drug wars. It has a per capita murder rate of 40 killings per 100,000. Toronto’s rate is 1.6. 

In Toronto, dousing David Beckham with crepe paper passed for intimidation tactics. Maybe the full beer can also hurled towards him spoke to a malice not uncommon in places like Torrean where crowd control is something less than a given, at least to Kocic, the experienced TFC ‘keeper.

 “If they come on to the field,” he said airily when discussing the game, “we will fight them.”

 The first, second and third world meet in soccer , a game whose arcane statutes limit the number of referees to one beleaguered soul while requiring what amounts to a constitutional amendment to fix its rules.

Interpretation of course varies wildly, as it does in Spain and Ireland and Columbia, on gravely fields in Sao Paulo and impeccably groomed grounds in Santa Barbara.

Santos played a sometimes marvelous but cynical game, a style in keeping with the ungovernable places where soccer players often come from.

Soccer is the samba-influenced brilliance and toughness of Brazil and the get-what-you-can attitude of countries where people are left to prosper or fall without the benevolent hand of government and what we quaintly call the social safety net.

The game and all that surrounds it can be reckless and incomprehensible and unreasonable, just like the places it is played and the planet it is so universally played on.

All this makes for wonderful, wonderful theatre, the same kind of oft- bloody theatre that has long enthralled cultures since people began clustering together to forget their cares or bask in their wealth.

I’m hooked.


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