Soccer in the Eternal City

Benji Newman

If you were in the United States this past summer, more likely than not you were swept in the World Cup fever.  I was unfortunately not in the country this summer but I had my own experience with this brand of excitement two years ago in Italy.  Despite last summer’s horrific showing, the Azzurri is historically one of the best teams in the world.  Most recently, it won the nation its fourth World Cup trophy in Germany in 2006 and has been more or less competitive in every major tournament since its inception.  When I was in Rome, they fought their way through the UEFA Euro 2012 in Poland and the Ukraine.  

I landed at Leonardo da Vinci Airport outside of Rome, and I was exhausted.  It was a Sunday, which meant it was market day, and this was my first time traveling internationally alone, so I was disoriented.  All of this is to say I don’t remember the game.  I had taken a nap and luckily woke up in time to watch Italy beat England in penalty kicks, which means the game was either incredibly exciting or really slow and boring until the last fifteen minutes, but all I remember is hearing the match commentator speaking quickly in Italian but intermittently saying, “Glenn Johnson,” which for some reason is the only name that stuck out to me.  The details of the game are not important though in comparison to where I was watching the game.  I was living in the Trastevere district, and we watched the game next to the west bank of the Tiber.  From where I was sitting, I could see the old synagogue, St. Peter’s Basilica, and Castel Sant’Angelo.  It was the best way to start out my trip.

I did not have to wait long to watch another game.  Italy played Germany in Warsaw only four days later.  With a little more sleep and with more people, I went back to the Tiber to watch the semi-finals.  However, not all was good.  That night my friends from Germany had to park their car at the German embassy out of fear that if the Italians lost, people would destroy it, which was my first encounter with the real effects of hooliganism.  It was an exciting game, and Italy won so the car was safe, but the concern I saw was real and I had never really encountered anything like it to that point.  While my friends were not happy, I was ecstatic because I had cheered on Italy.  I am neither German nor Italian, so I rooted for the home team.  After all, how often are you in a country that is actually on the verge of winning a major tournament?

The final game came three days later.  Italy played the defending European and World champion Spain.  A red team versus a blue team.  Two historic powerhouses going at each other.  Instead of the Tiber, I watched in a crowd of forty thousand at the Circus Maximus, a public park that stands where the first and largest ancient Roman stadium was located.  The city had set up four massive screens, so the people of the city could watch together and share in the nation’s triumphs.  It was supposed to be an amazing night, but the game did not go as planned.

When I got to the grounds, the first thing I saw was two massive Nazi flags, and a flare landed about fifteen feet away from me during the national anthems.  This set the tone for the rest of the night, and I was nervous.  I did not know much about the game or the players, but I knew that if things started to turn against the Italian team, the peaceful excitement would degrade to anger quickly.  And I was right.  The first set of bottles were thrown at the massive screen after Spain scored its second goal, but it was only a few and people calmed down after half time whistle blew because there was hope.  A barrage of bottles and flares were thrown at the screen after Spain’s third goal.  The large panels started to go black one by one as angry fans launched whatever they could turn into a projectile at them.  By the fourth goal only moments later, a riot was on the verge of breaking out, and the group of us Americans watching the game got out of there in a hurry.

Luckily for the city, no major incidents occurred that night.  In hindsight, I was in much less danger than I realized, but it was a lesson nonetheless in the dark side of soccer.  Overall, my experience was fantastic though.  I am passionate about the sport thanks to those nights in Italy.

Born and raised in the melting pot that is New York City, Benji Newman has always enjoyed being immersed in different cultures. He has studied, worked, and traveled all over Europe and hopes to visit South America in the near future. Graduating from the University of Michigan this spring, he will continue his studies in the fall by attending a Master's of International Economics and Affairs program.

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