Does it Matter Where They’re From? Club Teams, National Teams, and the Connection to Home
When England recently announced the potential host cities that will host games if that country is awarded the 2018 World Cup, one stood out: Milton Keynes. The MK Stadium that would host games is home to MK Dons, among the most controversial teams in England. MK Dons are controversial, of course, because they are the first “franchise” club in that country. As Tom Dunmore has chronicled extensively at Pitch Invasion, the club formerly known as Wimbledon FC was taken over, moved from London to Milton Keynes, and attempted to claim the club’s long history (ultimately unsuccessfully). What makes MK Dons – and thus the potential staging of World Cup games at its stadium – so controversial is the novelty of its history. It is the only team to have broken the longstanding connection between clubs and the community in which they grew up. Indeed, this connection is part of what gives many clubs in Europe their unique character (think, for instance, of Barcelona’s Catalan identity). So strong is the connection that Premier League trial balloons about the possibility of staging 39th games around the globe were shot down by outraged fans, incensed that clubs were putting profit over everything else.
The Football Supporters’ Federation protest sign against the 39th game (photo: Football Supporters’ Federation)
The strength of connection between teams and their place of origin may come as a bit of a surprise to American fans. Professional sports in the US became “franchised” so early on that Americans learned quickly that no club was too closely tied to its home to avoid being moved if its owner saw fit. Baseball’s Brooklyn Dodgers fans were heartbroken in 1957 when owner Walter O’Malley took the team 3000 miles west to its new home in Los Angeles. The same fate befell the American football Baltimore Colts, whose owner moved the team to Indianapolis in the middle of a snowy 1984 night. While I don’t want to deny the often strong connection between American sports teams and their homes (Red Sox nation, hold your fire), we in the US have seen teams ripped from one place and moved to another often enough to become quite cynical about the connection between clubs and their homes. Professional sports in the US are, and long have been, as much about business as anything else.
This is not the case in much of Europe, where clubs, from their beginnings, came to be strongly associated with the place from which they sprang. The late rise of professionalism in the UK, in particular, meant that clubs’ players often came from the local community and lived in it the same as any other member. Clubs’ identities came to be closely tied to those of the local community, and separating the club from its community was largely seen as a non-starter (that said, Arsenal’s move from South to North London in 1913 is a huge exception). Indeed, clubs more often served to incorporate arriving immigrants into their new communities. Many Irish men in Glasgow found a home at Celtic, for instance, just as many migrants from southern Spain found a home at Barcelona FC. One recent migrant, Eseteban, told the website The Travel Rag: “When I came here from Andalusia one of the ways I was able to feel part of the city and part of Catalonia was to support Barça. It was hard being a migrant but the club gives you an identity. Now I feel Catalan and I’m proud to live in Barcelona.”
If club teams are closely tied to their homes, one might imagine national teams would be even more so. It can be argued that especially in these times of increased globalization, sports are one of the few arenas in which people can continue to feel a strong connection to their countries. But in the 21st century, the connection between nations and their national teams is changing dramatically. The bond between national teams and the nations from which they come is, in many cases, no longer as strong as it once was.
At the conclusion of World Cup qualifying last month, Tim Vickery noted that many South American fans must now wait a long time before they will see their teams play at home. Vickery points out that a “gentleman’s agreement” means that European clubs release their players for friendlies as long as these matches are played in Europe. Having the chance to gather their best players is one reason that many national teams play matches outside of their home countries, but it is far from the only one. Often just as important is the chance to make money. When Brazil played England in recent friendly, the game did not take place in London or Rio de Janeiro. It was played instead in Doha, Qatar. Brazil has outsourced the scheduling of its friendly matches to Swiss company Kentaro, leading the seleçao jetting off in recent years to destinations such as Chicago, Boston, Seattle, Dortmund, Montpellier, Dublin and London. Brazil has clearly capitalized on its global appeal, though it is an interesting question to wonder how Brazil’s image may change it the team never plays in Brazil.
Brazil vs. England in Qatar (photo: Who Ate All the Pies)
Other countries have played abroad in the hopes of improving their national teams. This is the approach that New Zealand has employed in recent years, as Colin Peacock outlined on a recent Football Weekly podcast after that country qualified for the World Cup: “They decided: look, no one ever comes to New Zealand to play so we will assemble our team of journeymen from the second tiers of various leagues across the world and Ryan Nelsen if he can make it and play a few games across Europe. They absolutely targeted this opportunity and now they’ve done it.”
While the examples given so far all involve distancing national teams from their fans, there is also an interesting trend of teams going to places where migrants have settled. Mexico is perhaps the best example of this. The Mexican national team often takes advantage of the millions of Mexicans and Mexican-Americans in the United States and plays friendlies north of the border. A look at recent results shows Mexico lining up against Peru, Colombia, and Argentina on American soil, not to mention regular friendlies against the United States itself, all of which sell out huge stadiums. The appeal of playing its games abroad for the Mexican federation is two-fold: it gives Mexican fans abroad the chance to see their team play while giving the federation the opportunity to rake in huge sums of money. Indeed, this combination leads many countries with immigrant populations in the United States to stage matches here (see, for example, a recent friendly between Honduras and Peru played in Florida).
Sports are about creating community, as Simon Kuper has pointed out recently. He quotes Michael Oriard, who writes in his new book about college (American) football, that “a college football game at Michigan or Alabama, with its bands and cheerleaders, its pre-game tailgating, and its postgame partying, is something like a folk festival providing a sense of community, meaningful ritual, and sheer pleasure for millions of Americans each weekend in the fall.” Yet what happens when those games occur far from the place from which the team springs? Increased ease of communication and travel, key features of the contemporary wave of globalization, are changing the connection between soccer teams and the places from which they come. While the strong connection that many European clubs have to their place of origin has made moves such as that of MK Dons the exception to the rule, national teams throughout the world are increasingly playing matches wherever they can top-quality opponents, émigré fans or oodles of cash. Ironically, the national teams, whose existence is in part predicated on their connection to specific places, are coming to be less and less tied to their homeland than are club teams.
December 25th, 2009 16:12
Wow. My Christmas just got getter. Glad you’re back. Great article as usual.