I wasn’t asked, I was told. I am a Roma fan. I’d only been in Rome 30 minutes.
I’m learning that football here is not just a sport, it’s an identity. It’s a way of life.
I have nothing to compare it to other than politics in America. But it’s more. It’s not something you choose or decide for yourself. It’s who you are. Your father and grandfather and his grandfather were Roma fans, so you are a Roma fan.
Even the chants and the anthems give a glimpse of the heart of the fans.
When I sit here and listen to my friend share about his love for his team, I can’t help but think it’s beautiful.
I know that the stadium is filled with fowl language, alcohol, drugs, and fighting. But seeing a group of people love something and come together with passion makes me want to be a fan.
It’s a religion of it’s own. Worshipping a god on the field. It has rituals and songs and it is their first love.
It has the power to bring people together and separate them. Fans will go to war, for their team. Willing to potentially kill someone sitting across the line from them in the stadium.
And Rome has the best fans. They are the most creative and intimidating, known throughout the league. They are a part of the team themselves.
The opposing fans may try to chant in return. But as soon as they hear the Roma anthem, they go from chanting, to video taping, to praising. Even they cant’t deny it.
Go Roma!
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