World Cup Championship... kind of

Portland's futball (or, for those of you afflicted with knowledge of the American sport known as football: soccer) team, the Timbers, has a pretty impressive. It's only USL, and Portland isn't a particularly large city, so it's remarkable that the games draw loud, energetic, and sizable crowds to partially fill the slightly miniature stadium (primarily a minor league baseball venue). The Timbers Army makes the games worth going to, even on the occasion of a loss. Despite filling fewer than half the seats of the small stadium, Timbers game crowds provide an unusual opportunity (in the states) to participate in the pulsing mass of passionate and creative futball fans. American football games got nothing on this -- sorry, America.

Being a Timbers fan of any degree is great. But there was talk (read: sighing and resigned acceptance) that futball games in the rest of the world were a whole different beast: enormous stadiums packed with painted legions, whose roaring and stamping cause the city around them to tremble.

Last weekend, I had my first opportunity to experience something approaching this quality of game. By some stroke of last-minute luck, I landed a ticket to the World Cup qualifier match between Moldova and Switzerland. There was (deafening) whispering of a chance that Moldova might be able to win the match, and thus making it past the first round of qualifiers for the only official event more international the a UN meeting. The Swiss are not the strongest of futball players, but would still be a formidable challenge for the Moldovan team. Sadly blaspheming, I arrived moments after kick-off, sitting down at nearly center-field, sideline seats. (!)

I was out of practice, as a fan. My throat was hoarse after only a couple minutes, and I had no idea who I should be watching. I caught on, after a while, though. The Moldovan chants were rather uncreative, and thus easy to learn: Hai Moldova! Hai Moldova! (That is: Come on Moldova!). Still, the stadium was significantly larger than any other futball stadium I had previously seen, and it was packed well beyond the "sold out" level. Several sections, solid red, were obviously Swiss, but the majority of the crowd carried the Moldovan colors. (I wasn't able to find myself apparel in anything above "child's medium" size, this time.)

Ultimately, the Moldovan team lost. We discussed post-game: Clearly, it was because the Moldovans weren't challenging for the ball, and there wasn't enough small play. We fans are experts on the game, of course; we would play, were it not for some knee injury, or some other such excuse. Regardless of the fan review, the Moldovan team made a worthy effort, and it is unfortunate that their bid for the World Cup Championship had to end at Game One. Nonetheless, I feel privileged to have been in attendance. And Moldova's next chance is only a few years away, right?

Now I'm even more eager to attend regular matches -- here, and elsewhere in Europe.