The special thing about this summer was that it was the summer of the World Cup. And what better place to support Team USA than Washington? We knew that nothing in America would ever compare to the epic shots of Italy, Korea, Brazil and other countries in which tens of thousands of fans flock to the streets, city squares and beaches to watch games on enormous outdoor screens. But we figured that Washington would give us something. We were right.
On the morning of June 11, one of us arrived at Dupont Circle, an enormous traffic circle in Washington’s northwestern quadrant with a small park in the middle. Two screens had been erected in the park, each flanked by enormous loudspeakers. The day began with the Korea-Greece game, which Korea won comfortably.
Next came Argentina-Nigeria, and this time a few more fans showed up. By the time Argentina had sealed a largely uneventful 1-0 victory, the place was slowly beginning to fill up. Between the crowd and the unrelenting D.C. sun, the temperature was about 100 degrees with serious humidity.
By about 2 p.m., the crowd was getting rowdy. A fire engine drove around the circle with its sirens on. Our response? A 1,000-man “USA!” chant. The firemen waved at us and honked, acknowledging the vague appreciation of their work they’d just received, but likely wary of the numerous bad things that could happen in a tightly bunched crowd of soccer fans on a 100-degree day.
The crowd went bonkers when the game started but was quickly quieted by Steven Gerrard’s fourth-minute goal. Well, not the entire crowd. The group of four English people behind us took Gerrard’s goal as a cue to launch into an incessant song about celery, which they claimed was a tradition among England fans. Celery? Really?
Excitement built in the crowd as the United States seemed to be picking up momentum. Late in the first half, the man next to us turned to us and made a prediction. “We’re going to score,” he said. “Now.”
Two minutes later, his unlikely prediction came true as Clint Dempsey’s bouncing shot ricocheted off the arms of hapless English goalkeeper Robert Green.
The moment the goal was scored was unforgettable. All sounds from the speakers were immediately drowned by the loudest roar we’d ever heard. It seemed like everyone was jumping and screaming as loud as they could. Or maybe that was just us. We hugged at least three strangers each and high-fived another five. By the time the commotion had subsided, the lawn chair one of us brought, which was previously behind us, had been folded up and kicked 10 feet away. We were covered in a combination of beer, water and someone’s strawberry smoothie. And a lot of sweat. And we were loving it.
The rest of the game went back and forth, and when the match ended in a tie, most of the fans treated it like a win and celebrated with chants of “Fuck BP!” The English fans certainly treated it like a loss, walking away with their heads hung low. As we walked away from Dupont, pockets of the crowd and groups in outdoor bars spontaneously broke into the national anthem and other patriotic songs.
We suspected that an experience like this probably was not happening in too many other places in the country at the same time. But the day’s events gave us hope that some day, soccer will rise in popularity in America and become a sport that unites the country. Because let’s be real: When was the last time you lost your voice and had a beer poured on you while watching Team USA at the World Baseball Classic?
