MEXICO CITY (Nov. 13, 2013) — An American friend will visit the Azteca today when the Mexicans face New Zealand in the first leg of a home-and-home World Cup qualifier. At a US-Mexico futbol match, regardless of venue, the rooting intersts are crystal clear. But here? What are his obligations?
Earlier this week, he and I exchanged the obligatory musings about bringing along rain gear, or at least a wide-brimmed hat, to guard against flying bags of urine — especially once he revealed that he’d be rooting for the Kiwis. All well and good to be so declaratively brave in a Facebook exchange. We’ll see how overtly manifest his NZ support will be once the whistle blows.
There are, of course, myriad dramas swirling around the Mexican capital today, as El Tri desperately attempt to punch their tickets to Brazil and quell a national anxiety that has raged for months. Our neighbors to the south stumbled badly throughout the CONCACAF’s Hexagonal qualifiers. The security blanket of Estadio Azteca — a place where Mexicans had, until this summer, lost but one time in World Cup qualifying history — has been shredded. They’ve gone through three coaches in three months. Mexicans view World Cup qualification as a birthright. Were it not for the Americans’ last minute victory over Panama in the final qualifier, El Tri would have already been eliminated.
My friend’s decision to go south and root for the Kiwis begs a more nuanced, decidedly North American question. Should U.S. soccer fans be rooting for the Mexicans today, and next week, when the second leg is played in Auckland? I mean, should they ever do such a thing?
US-Mexico: One-side Partisanship
Yes, the Mexicans are our most bitter regional rivals. But they also represent our confederation, and their failure to qualify would diminish CONCACAF. Failure to advance would perhaps diminish the region’s automatic qualifying places for the 2018 World Cup, and certainly diminish this summer’s tournament.
It’s hard not to admire the Kiwis and their grit: They were the only undefeated team in South Africa 2010, grinding out three desultory draws. But the Mexicans — with their hordes of traveling fans, attractive style, outsized national expectations, and seeming inability to play for desultory results — would be the clear choice of neutrals the world over.
But are we, as U.S. soccer partisans, allowed to root for NZ? Can we play the role of neutrals?
We cannot soberly address these questions without first considering how Mexican fans might react were the roles reversed, for they are anything but neutral on the subject of U.S. soccer. Just what are our obligations here?
Let’s boil it down: They hate us. There is indeed no nuance here for the Mexicans. For 24 hours, perhaps they appreciated the fact that our win in Panama — actually, a tie would have done it — saved their bacon, enabling this last-ditch qualifying opportunity vs. New Zealand. But they don’t give a damn about the confederation or its reputation. If the roles were reversed, the Mexicans back New Zealand. No question.
Uniquely One-Sided
The U.S.-Mexico rivalry stands alone in this respect. I can’t think of another example where the footballing vitriol is so one-sided. Mexicans don’t see the rise of U.S. soccer these last two decades as a boost for CONCACAF, or a means to better prepare their own teams for World Cup performance — an issue of longstanding for the Mexicans, frankly, coming as they do from such a notoriously weak confederation. They don’t see a true rival here in North America as remotely interesting or worthwhile. They don’t see the positive impact of Mexican-Americans — on U.S. rosters, on our style of play — as an ego-boosting reflection of their own footballing prowess.
Mexicans see the rise of U.S. soccer as an affront.
El Tri routinely play friendly internationals in the U.S., where huge numbers of expatriates guarantee a sellout — and max revenue for the Mexican Football Federation. Fans of the national team living in Mexico (which is to say, the entire country) views this as yet another indignity.
Intellectually, American partisans may understand that soccer is special. It’s one of the few things Mexicans have always been able to lord over their rich, voracious, imperialist neighbors to the north: tequila, daytime soaps, proper tortillas and futbol. These are people who still revile Landon Donovan for discreetly taking a pre-game piss beside a Guadalajara pitch — 9 years ago, prior to an Olympic qualifier. They viewed it, and continue to view it, all these years later, as a willful desecration of Mexican soil.
Mexican fans wish us ill, full stop. This broad, cultural dynamic spills over to the players themselves. They understand the expectations: win against Los Yanquis, and win big. Failure to do so will subject them to ongoing, perhaps lifelong harassment from their own fans and media. It might cost a coach his job or a player his place in the national team.
There is no real pressure for the U.S. team to perform against Mexico. There is no day-to-day job security at stake, no broad ramifications. Soccer doesn’t yet mean that much to Americans, culturally. That’s not the case for Mexico. In fact, it’s just the opposite.
See it for yourself…
Watch the Mexican players the next time they face the Americans. After the national anthems, when they make their way down the hand-shaking line, there are no smiles and niceties exchanged. Not from the Mexicans. They stand there, stoned faced, because their compatriots are watching them, ready to pounce on idle chumminess. Observe them after the game ends. If the Mexicans should lose, many pointedly refuse to shake their opponents’ hands. This is very bad form according to the etiquette of international futbol especially. But they know what’s at stake. They can’t afford to be palzy-walzy with the gringos — Mexican fans and media would not stand for it.
In fact, should a Mexican player present an American opponent with a truly cheap shot — like the time Ramon Ramirez kicked Alexi Lalas in the balls, in 1997, or when assistant coach Paco Ramirez bitch-slapped Frankie Hedjuk after the Americans eliminated Mexico from the 2002 World Cup — fans and media hail him as a kind of hero.
This subject confounds me, frankly. The U.S.-Mexico rivalry is littered with this sort of bullshit behavior. But I understand their emotional response, even if I don’t respect it. They’re toting baggage that I legitimately cannot imagine.
Indeed, I find myself rooting for the Mexicans when they’re not playing the U.S., in the same way I will surely root for the Hondurans and Costa Ricans this summer in Brazil. They are North Americans, after all. These continental brothers carry the banner for soccer in this part of the world. They play with flair, to win. The Mexicans in particular truly do add something to a big tournament, in a way that New Zealand never could.
So, by the time you read this, my friend is already in Mexico City. He’ll be the one guy rooting for the Kiwis, while 100,000 back El Tri. And I will join them, because I’m a CONCACAF partisan — and I know this sort of behavior will confound and piss off our Mexicans brothers all the more.