You Never Forget Your First Time

I know when my first time was:

September 3, 2005
Columbus Crew Stadium
Columbus OH
2006 FIFA World Cup Qualifier: USA v Mexico

Six of us met at a friend's place in St. Paul in the wee hours of September 2 and got on the road; I didn't really know what I was in for, to be honest. I'd only been a "supporter" for a few months, which is how I met these jackasses*. Hell, the guy who was sharing driving duties in my car—known to most as Lightning Striker—made me a bit nervous. Twelve hours later, however, we arrived in Columbus with no incident.

* - Jackass is used here as a term of endearment.

There, the fun began.

We headed to O'Shaughnessy's Public House in Columbus's Arena District for the night-before Sam's Army party; these were in the days before the American Outlaws, after all. The party was roaring all night; the people walking by the patio area definitely didn't know what to make of drunken, singing soccer fans. We met a number of the KC Brigade, including many from the Cauldron, who we'd seen a few weeks before at a US Open Cup game (...but that's another story). Drinks were enjoyed; good times were had; hangover seeds were planted.

Saturday was game day. We met up with more members of the Minnesota First Volunteers and headed into the stadium.

Well, they headed in. I made a wrong turn and had to circle around. As I pulled into the parking lot, I looked for our group. I spotted them, and started to drive in that direction when I saw it: a wave of green headed towards the general area where most of the US fans were parked. I hurried into a spot and jumped out of the car with my camera. As luck would have it, I popped out right in the middle of the two groups.

Chanting, singing... and handshakes. Someone near me noted that had we'd been in Europe, there would have been bottles and rocks flying already. Thankfully, this rivalry—while heated and bitter—has a "sly-wink-and-nod" friendliness hidden below the surface.

The game was great; the US won "dos a cero", of course. The supporters' end was live; hell, the entire stadium was up for it. I got some okay video of the second US goal..

After the game, it was back to O'Shaughnessy's for even more partying; it was a joyous time.

Sunday morning came all too quickly. Despite my protestations, we drove the whole way back on Sunday. Twenty-four hours of driving for one game sounds terrible, but I knew then I was hooked.