For the first time in 35 years as a sports journalist, I turned up for a game and didn’t want to do my job. I wanted to be a fan. Specifically, I wanted to be an Orlando City fan, enjoying the build-up to Sunday’s epic game with Real Salt Lake.
True, it was a gorgeous Sunday afternoon, an ideal Florida March day, with just the right amount of sun (i.e. 100 percent) and just the perfect shade of blue in the sky. The Citrus Bowl also lends itself well to tailgating and all the pre-game festivities the team arrange, making for a wonderful setting for the kind of inclusive, family-friendly ambience that is part college football, part soccer tradition and wholly Orlando unique.
But irrespective of the weather, I was most struck by just how much pure, unadulterated fun the fans were having, before a ball had even been kicked in anger. It was outrageous. Kids were playing soccer, games were being played in every parking lot, barbecues were sizzling and more than a few cold ones were being poured.
The atmosphere was so totally festive, so relaxed and enjoyable, it almost seemed a crime not to linger and soak up the fan vibe as thousands were doing on Sunday.
The siren lure of all those happy supporters and their families created a feelgood buzz that was probably palpable for miles in every direction. ‘Come and party with us,’ it cooed. ‘This is the place to be. Join the Lions family.’
Photo Gallery: #FillTheBowlAgain
And I was completely bummed out by it. Instead of strolling the parking lots and drinking in the vibe, I had to head up to the Citrus Bowl’s hermetically sealed press box, cut myself off from all that fun and festivity, and focus on the nuts and bolts of a game that, ultimately, proved to be even more remarkable than last season’s unforgettable opener.
It was like having to enjoy the occasion in a straitjacket, stifled, confined, constricted. The real enjoyment was just beyond me, tantalizingly close but out of arm’s reach, blissfully personified by every kid kicking a soccer ball and playing cornhole.
Of course, I am paid to be there, to do a professional job and report on the games in a dispassionate, neutral manner. That’s the occupation. As much as Brek and Co. can’t come out pre-game and join in the partying, the writers need to remain aloof and apart, observers but not participators.
But heck if that wasn’t the hardest thing to do on Sunday. I actively envied every single person out in the parking lots and along Mane Street, all totally absorbed in enjoying the occasion and anticipating the excitement to come.
And therein lies the Orlando City secret, separate and distinct from any other sporting occasion. This is a true cultural phenomenon growing right before our eyes in a city that seems tailor-made to embrace and fuel it. It is 100 percent inclusive and completely addictive, a heady mix of companionable camaraderie and fervent sports passion.
And it’s going to grow and mature and deepen in the weeks and months and years to come. This is an absolute grass-roots experience par excellence, and something beyond my previous experience of covering sports.
This is all just a long-winded way of saying, if I don’t make it to the press box for the next game and there is a big gap on MLSsoccer.com, you will know why.
