Football

In a couple of hours my team will again play another match. Bologna. Away. Who cares?

Once upon a time not so long ago I would have been full og tension, waiting anxiously for the two hours of play on the not so green surface of the Dall'Ara. Now I am still waiting, and still with some anticipation, but the magic has gone. The self-illusion bubble has burst. Can it ever be restored? Would I even want it to be restored?

Football is funny business, no matter what perspective one takes. Mine has, for the last few years, been that of a fan. Now, many might say that the fans perspective is a passive one. They might say that being a fan you are nothing more but subject to others actions and reactions, and you subject yourself passively to a life of watching and spectating.

I do not share this view. At least, I do not share it without reservation. My perspective of a fan was always a very active one. Whole days would be adrenalin. Whole weekends or even longer would be spent in nighttrains with strangers, sleeping restlessly, sweating and smelly, simply to get that feeling of being an animal in a cage.

In away games I would stand there. Part of a group, part of something larger than myself. Devoting all my voice, my strength and my feelings to our colours. All my energy to our glory. And the glory was only projected by what happened on the field. We were the glory. Our chants. In canto.

Being a fan is interesting. It is the greatest form of self-illusion there can possibly be. Just like a religion, one convinces onself of the objective importance of an event one cannot reasonably affect. One says in effect that what other people are doing is going to matter to me, and my well-being. Then one takes it a step further and convinces oneself that one can actually influence these events. Wear the right scardf. Put the right sock on first Sit on the same seat. Never predict the result before the game. Never talk about the opposition. Always take the same tram to the stadium. Always consider the same rituals. Like religion one gives importance to rituals, to a creed, to a way of seeing and believing things. Unlike religion, there is no after-life, no larger reason beyond what happens here and now.

Then the magic breaks. Why? How?

Well, how can you keep going to a church if the priest tells you there is no God? How can you pray when the Pope tells you it is only for fun? How can you keep an illusion up, that even the illusionists do not approve of?

Well, you can't.

The magic is gone.

Bologna-Milan. Today. 15.00. Forza Milan.