Dr. Stephen P. Andon
Associate Professor, Department of Journalism and Sports Media College of Communication and Media Montclair State University. A native of rural Maryland, Stephen P. Andon received his Ph.D. from the College of Communication and Information at Florida State University in 2011 after writing a dissertation on sports memorabilia. His undergraduate career at Boston College consisted of work in television, radio, and digital film production – with stints at WBAL-TV, WHFC-FM, and at ESPN covering the 2002 World Cup.
Playing on the dynamic between popular culture and the rhetorical theories of place and memory, his research interests include the role of history and myth among sports fan cultures, constitutive rhetoric in sport, nostalgic influences in sport, and the rhetoric of stadium narratives.
Email: andons@monclair.edu
Unlike most national teams in world soccer, there is no official national stadium for the team – a place where history, memory, belonging, and tradition have stood the test of time – places like Wembley Stadium in England, the Azteca in Mexico, or Cairo International in Egypt. Throughout its history, and especially in the last 30 years, a combination of factors have made it difficult for the USMNT to establish a home field advantage at a singular location – outside of, perhaps, Columbus, Ohio.
With no home, no repository of memory in a physical form, no place to go as a pilgrimage ritual, the USMNT has struggled to gain traction with a broader spectrum of American fans. With no Lambeau Field or Fenway Park, American men’s soccer has been starved recently of culturally-pervasive myths that bring fans together – or what communication scholars would call constitutive rhetoric. That is, communication that hails and interpellates an audience into a collective group.
The most common culprit for this starvation is that sellout crowds at USMNT home matches are peppered with intense fans from the opposing teams. In a NYT article from 2013 explaining why the USMNT had not solidified a particular home stadium, Sunil Gulati, then-president of the United States Soccer Federation, explained that one of the biggest obstacles is, “ensuring a crowd that is pro-United States.”
An additional factor is that there are a dozen or so cities that seem to want to crown themselves as the spiritual home of American soccer. This debate usually simmers between Major League Soccer cities in non-World Cup years, but the hosting of the World Cup brought further introspection. Portland has long claimed its place as Soccer City, USA, but nearby rival Seattle has also laid claim to that title, while Kansas City owns the trademark, “Soccer Capital of America.” Meanwhile, US Soccer has recently opened a new training and administrative facility outside of Atlanta even though the National Soccer Hall of Fame sits in suburban Dallas. Historical claims to the home of US men’s soccer have also been claimed by St. Louis, due to the production of local talent that has represented the national team, but the same claim has been made by Kearny, New Jersey, which The Gothamist recently labeled “the Cradle of American soccer.”
As a result of this, it has been almost impossible for the USMNT to develop a sense of home, with all of the symbolism of place and mythmaking central to it. We’re too disjointed, too contentious, and too divided. A regrettably familiar refrain.
And unlike Mexico, whose national team was slated to play in the Azteca Stadium during the World Cup, the USMNT elected to base its World Cup matches on America’s west coast in Los Angeles, Seattle, and San Francisco. These cities were not chosen in order to join the debate as America’s soccer capital, however. FIFA had decided the USMNT’s opening game would take place in Los Angeles, and the other locations were strategically chosen to minimize travel distance, avoid changes in time zones, and take advantage of temperate summer weather.
So, with a decades-long problem with home, and a decision to prioritize expedience, the USMNT entered the tournament as hosts with an emotional distance from its fans and the American populace – to say nothing of problems with ticket prices or dissonance between political leadership and patriotism. What could bring unify US fans – what could interpellate, or hail them – into a collective?
Naturally, a 1971 folk pop hit performed by a New Mexico-born Coloradan who co-wrote the song with a couple of songwriters inspired by a road in Maryland and whose lyrics mention places in nearby Virginia – and not its western counterpart. Somewhat incredulously, John Denver’s “Country Roads,” became the USMNT’s interpellating rhetorical artifact – plucked from a FIFA playlist given to every stadium in the entire tournament (the song was played at games in Mexico and Canada as well).
Moments after their overwhelming defeat of Paraguay, the players’ faces glowed in appreciation, and maybe a bit of awe when the speakers in Seattle Stadium blared out a sing-a-long favorite and the crowd spontaneously joined in unison.
Soon, it seemed, the entire stadium was swaying and belting out, “Take me home, country roads.” The episode, more akin to the jubilant scenes in college sports, was a first for US soccer, which spent weeks ahead of the World Cup defending its fans’ well-intentioned but, at times, cringe-worthy chants on social media. And the players took notice.
“It just gives you chills,” star forward Christian Pulisic said.
“It was incredible,” defender Tim Ream added, “I had to ask myself, ‘Is this real life?’”
The phenomenon drew quite a good deal of media coverage. Clips went viral on social media.
The song’s generic feeling of American-ness “does not require much,” The Washington Post noted. Perfect for a team with an Argentinian coach, players born and/or raised abroad, and without a single player from the Mountain State. As defender Chris Richards clearly explained, “All of us know that part of being American is knowing ‘Country Roads,’ so we’re all singing it together.
So a song about home, memory, and belonging – rather than a place – became the perfect unifying call for an American soccer fanbase that was lacking the mythology needed to coalesce support around the team at its home World Cup.
For the first time in the history of the USMNT, and for a few weeks at least, any place in the US could be home.
