A Woman’s Voice – Where Women Have Their Say About Soccer

In an exclusive feature on Prost Amerika, we will attempt to redress the gender balance in Seattle’s soccer journalistic community. Prost Amerika will search the Pacific Northwest for the best women writers to bring you their views and articles on all things affecting soccer, both here and internationally.

One Woman’s Slide into the Blissful Abyss of Soccerholism
By Audrey Gervasi

Hello, my name is Audrey and I’m a soccerholic. I am writing this piece in the hopes of tempting you into that same terribly wonderful fate. But first, let me clarify something. I’ve never been a soccer mom in the traditional sense of a woman who drives kids around to soccer practices in an SUV while wearing mom jeans. No, by “soccer mom” I mean a mom who loves—or more accurately, is addicted to–soccer, and more specifically, our beloved Seattle Sounders. Soccer mom is what I call myself, but the term is a euphemism for SOCCERHOLIC.

I’ve never been much of a sports fan, other than rooting for the Boston Red Sox, my home team. So my journey into soccer fandom, let alone addiction, was a bit unexpected. It began innocently enough. After my daughter left for college I believed I was dealing with my empty nest in a healthy way. I have a life. Besides my work as a lawyer, I spend time with friends, date occasionally, and love to ballroom dance and hike. And then, one fateful day in February, my young friend Trish invited (tempted?) me to accompany her on a road trip to Portland to watch the Sounders play their first public friendly against the University of Portland Pilots.

Trish is a fellow ballroom dancer whom I met at the Washington Dance Club back in 2006. I learned early on that she is an avid soccer player and fan. In the summer of 2008 she landed a position as media relations intern with the USL Sounders. As I listened to her recount her experiences, especially her descriptions of the exquisitely fit young men, my interest in soccer began to grow. What I didn’t realize is that soccer fandom is as contagious as swine flu, and more addictive than heroin.

Oh, daughter, daughter, is this love, I’m feeling?

My initial motive for making the trip was to spend quality time with my young friend and my 19-year-old daughter Arielle, who accompanied us, and to discover what all the fuss was about. Little did I suspect the slippery slope down which I was about to slide. In Portland, we cruised around the pitch before the match, snapping photographs and watching the boys go through their paces. At that time we were able to get up close and personal with the team members—we practically accosted them on their way out to the pitch from the locker room, with no one to stop us. The boys are young, fit, and attractive, so needless to say Arielle and I enjoyed ourselves fully with this pre-game activity.

The match was truly exciting, although the rival team, the University of Portland Pilots, didn’t stand a chance against the professionals that the Sounders showed themselves to be. Their formations were exquisite and their moves relaxed, while the Portland boys ran frenetically to and fro. Not surprisingly, the Sounders beat the college boys “soundly” (4-1). Suddenly, I was hooked. I think it was the speed and dexterity displayed by the players, the fact that you can’t look away for a second without the possibility of missing something, and the very visible display of constant teamwork. True, teamwork is required in all sports, but in high-speed soccer, both its presence and its absence is seen and felt more keenly.

After the Portland match, I caught Sounders fever. I bought season tickets. I started reading up on the team, its history, and its players. As opening day approached, I became more and more excited. I thought those tickets would never arrive in the mail (they did). And now that the season is in full swing, I’m incurably hooked. Soccer fans are the most enthusiastic sports fans ever. We share a spiritual bond. We wear team scarves and jerseys, we paint our faces, we sing fan songs, we chant, we stand together throughout the matches.

These are the well-known symptoms of soccer fandom, but there are others–the lesser-known symptoms of advanced soccerholism that tell you when you are beyond all help. First, you find excuses to bring up soccer in every conversation. You casually mention the subject, and if the other person seems remotely interested, you launch into an effusive soliloquy of everything you know about the sport, and the Sounders. I was quite proud of myself when I ran into a fellow on the bus and tried this trick. He was actually impressed with my soccer knowledge, which in my opinion is still in the developmental stages. This is the second symptom: harboring a secret ambition to talk intelligently about soccer and all its nuances, casually throwing around terms like “offside,” “set piece,” and “red card” or discussing Freddie Ljungberg’s calf injury (or just knowing how to spell “Ljungberg”). The third and perhaps most dangerous symptom is that while you are discussing soccer, your blood pressure rises, you start to hyperventilate, and the only thing that shuts you up is the lack of oxygen to your brain. Finally, the true soccer addict lives from soccer match to soccer match, counting the hours until the next one and filling the time reading soccer blogs, looking for news about the players, plotting ways to meet them (naturally I am going to meet Seba Le Toux at his autograph signing on May 12 – woo hoo!), planning trips to away matches . . . . oh, and you NEVER miss a match. Ever. If you must miss one, and only a life-threatening situation will suffice as an excuse (OK, your daughter’s jazz concert might work too), then videotaping or TIVOing is a must. Also, fellow addicts will often agree to text you or keep you apprised by phone.

With each match I see more and more women joining the ranks of Sounders fans. This is a wonderful thing. Why should the men have all the fun? In the words of BJ Thomas, I’ve got it bad for you (Sounders) but I don’t need a cure. I’ll just stay addicted and hope I can endure. Won’t you join me?