United We Watch

I watched some World Cup soccer today. I watched my home country play against England. I heard some nasty things being said about the English team (I was in a bar). It made me sad. It's just a game. The beautiful game, after all, which is something to remember. The players play because they love to play (and it's how they make their money). And people watch, all over the world. And people say things. And suddenly, millions of people are experts when it comes to soccer, or football as it's often called.

And so I drank my two-dollar beers and tuned out some of the more stupid comments. And I enjoyed the powerful quiet--perhaps even some milliseconds of silence--because there were actually quiet moments in the bar, moments which tended to happen in between the Big Plays, which were the ones that often required cheering.

There's really something interesting that happens when fans watch a game. It's a home team love and focused sporting excitement that drives many a fan (and some people even have money riding on the games, which adds another level). But for me, most of the time, I don't really get into the game like those around me. And so this makes it easier for me to observe everyone else. I like to watch the people watching the games. They get so into it. It's amazing. If they could only see themselves, and hear the things they are saying. Some people take the games very seriously--with their crazy eye TV screen watching, and their trash talking, and wild cheering, and cell phone score checking (because there's so many games to keep track of). The Serious Fans have really demonstrated just how deep the obsession goes. I'm not saying it's good or bad. I'm just saying that after watching some World Cup soccer in a Maryland bar, it's safe to say that fans can really get into the games.

Now people in the stadiums love to cheer. I knew this. You can hear it in the background of certain televised games: an almost constant cheering drone that lasts for most of the game. And cheering at a game kind of makes sense. You cheer for the team you want to win, and hope the cheering drives them into athletic brilliance and then victory. But what about the fans who scream at the TV screens? It's hard to say what their goals are. Probably just a energy release or outlet, a demonstration of what's on their minds. And as I was watching the people around me yell, I found myself thinking: the TV is not a microphone, no matter how loud you try to yell.

But who am I to say that their yelling has no power? Has such a thing ever been studied? Energy is a powerful thing with mysterious connotations. And maybe someday every bar room and living room will have a microphone and a direct line into the stadium or arena of the fan's own choosing. And in the ceilings of stadiums, there will be thousands of little speakers, high quality/high power speakers, so that when the dedicated fans yell, the players will actually hear and receive the energy. Players will of course have to wear special high-tech thousand-dollar ear plugs so they can block some of the tremendous noise that will be hitting them at every angle, vibrating their athletic bodies like some sort of strange exercise machine from the future. Stadiums will also have to be built with very high standards to handle the sonic bombardment. And fans will have to sign wavers so they can't sue over hearing loss. And every stadium will have to install a giant soundproof shield over the stadium, otherwise the noise of a game would disturb every home within ten miles. And for those roofless stadiums, the Sound Shield would be the roof, as well as being a fixture where all the speakers could be mounted.

And when such systems are implemented, and I get my financial cut for inventing the True Voice Fan Intercom, you might find me in some famous bar in America, buying a round for the house. And then I'll get up on the bar and give speech, instructing the screaming fans to maybe just take a break. And for a minute or so, we'll pump a round of pure quiet into whatever stadium speaker that bar is broadcasting to, and that little pocket of silence will rain down onto the field, and maybe, just maybe, for one glorious moment, some sweaty player who's chock full of exhaustion will be able to zero in on that one speaker and hear the quiet hum of a silent bar which is the stuff that angels sing of.