Yesterday, like any good Viking lad with Norwegian roots, I took my family to cheer on the homeland at the World Cup. As we rowed our way down 495 towards Gillette Stadium, I could hardly contain my excitement. One of my family’s favorite players is Erling Haaland, and him being Norwegian (one of ours!) made it all the more sweet. We were going to see Norway! And Haaland! Kanon! (That’s Norwegian for awesome, of course.)
But you know who else was excited? The Iraqis.
It started on the highway. At one point, multiple cars sped past us, all waving Iraqi flags out of their windows. From the backseats, men were waving and laughing, looking like little kids at a candy shop, while one of the drivers—a woman—smiled as my daughter rolled down her window and pointed at her Norway shirt. There was no animosity here. Just joy.
Off the highway, as one would expect, the fervor only increased. During our twenty-minute walk to the stadium, we saw thousands of Iraq fans donning white and green jerseys, all beaming with smiles. Some were blasting sounds into plastic trumpets while others were dancing and singing. Bicyclists with Iraqi flags draped around their necks like capes, weaved their way around the crowds, and friends meeting each other at a prearranged spot, shared a mighty embrace. When we headed out that morning, we assumed we’d see mostly Norwegian fans, and they certainly did take up the majority, but it was not as heavily weighted as we expected.
And the enthusiasm from both crowds was electric. The Iraq cheering section rivaled Norway’s quite well, and we all agreed that the sound of their war drum actually surpassed Norway’s. Iraq’s drum had more of a snare sound mixed with some bass, while Norway’s was a low kettle bass drum that was hard to pick up amongst the cheers at times.
Overall, I think Norway beat Iraq on the singing, and the cheers, but it was close. Ultimately, it was probably the emphatic “Ro!” chant that put Norway over the top, both in spirit, and of course the match. Watching thousands of fans all row an imaginary boat is one of the best things I’ve seen on the internet in a long, long time, and it’s even better in person. Sounding more like “roo” than “ro”, the Norwegian fans make strokes to the rhythm of the bass drum, hoping to give their team a boost. Boom-boom, goes the drum, before every Norwegian within hearing distance pulls on their invisible oars and shouts, “Ro!”
Our seats were up high towards the middle of Gillette Stadium, far away from the core cheering section positioned behind the goal, and yet my son and I felt the call of our forefathers. Straining our ears for the drum, we grunted and pulled some strokes for team Norway along with thousands of others ready to go a-viking. It was fantastic. Doing weird stuff like that is not only accepted—it’s encouraged at football games, and if you ever get a chance to go to one and let your freak flag fly, you should take it. Finally, a place where I can be me!
“But Matt,” some might ask, “would I feel that way? Can I let my freak flag fly at a game versus Iraq? Or Iran? Is it safe?”
I know for some Americans, the idea of being fully at ease among a large Iraqi presence doesn’t seem feasible. Probably even more so if they were to see an Iranian game. After all, the U.S.A. is at war with one of them and it wasn’t too long ago that it was at war with the other. I’m sure some might wonder if they are safe going to a game where either team is playing. Some might fear that hatred of the United States will cause something bad to happen. But let me tell you what I saw at the World Cup game between Iraq and Norway: two beautiful groups of people celebrating life.
Not too long ago I had the opportunity to see a Barcelona futbol game and I had never seen such passion from a team’s fanbase before. It was remarkable. But what I saw at the World Cup was something more: a love of country that indicated no signs of hatred for the other. The Norwegians and Iraqis were all smiles, friendly coexisting, often times singing their chants and songs right next to each other without any discomfort or confrontations. Everyone supported each other’s prerogative to support their country and their team. It was a civil display of jubilation unlike anything I can recall, other than the last time I went to a World Cup game between Nigeria and Italy in 1994. (I still think Nigeria got robbed, by the way.)
So great, Matt, you had a good time, and everyone was nice. What’s your point?
My point is that the world isn’t as bad as the news would like us to believe. Or as bad as our leaders would like us to believe. Sure, there are bad players (usually the ones who are in power), but the majority of humanity wants everyone to live in peace and enjoy life. Nowhere is that on display more than a World Cup game. You won’t find it so much at an Eagles-Giants football game and you probably won’t find it at a Patriots game when Gillette goes back to hosting its regular occupants. But when you see two countries collide on the soccer pitch, where the modus operandi isn’t anything but mutual love of country, you see it.
It’s like the 80-20 rule. 80% of the people in the world are good, or are trying to be good (I actually think it’s more than that), and that number doesn’t change based on the country they are living in, no matter the baggage that country is carrying. Everyone at yesterday’s game was so happy. So nice. Even after the game was over and we all took the long walk down the exit ramps, every Iraqi fan I saw was smiling. Their team just suffered a 4-1 defeat at the hand of the Norwegians, and yet they were all so happy for the experience—proud that their country is finally back on soccer’s biggest stage after a forty-year drought. How lovely is that?
Now to be fair, the people who make the effort to see a soccer game do not likely reflect the whole of a country’s people. First of all, the price of entry is high, and those willing to make such a purchase are more likely to have an optimistic view of things—if life is treating you well enough that you can take a time out to attend a World Cup game, you’re probably going to see the glass as half-full. After all, you’re at a World Cup game—a WORLD CUP GAME!
And there are real hurts that people and families have suffered at the hands of other countries, that no soccer game can help them overlook. I don’t discount any of that. All I’m saying is that geopolitical struggles and history can make us write each other off, and while there are real problems in the world that we can’t naively discount, if we mistake circumstances for defining an entire body of people, we will fail to see that most of us are a lot closer than we think. If we treated life like a football match, maybe we’d all get there.
So, whether you watch any of the games in person, or all of them on TV over the next month, I hope when you watch you will see what I saw yesterday—that most of the world’s inhabitants are kind and loving, hoping the world will someday be as beautiful as a football game. That people from very different parts of the world can appreciate each other and root against each other in an amicable fashion, and that when all is said and done, opposing sides can acknowledge each other for a match well-played.
Because it was.