I know nothing about professional soccer.
I know the basics.
Ball in net = goal
Don’t touch the ball with your hands.
Red and yellow flags are bad.
You get the point.
On Sunday night, I went to an New York City Football Club. I went with some important people in my life. The game was at Yankee Stadium. It was a beautiful fall night. NYCFC scored 2 goals. The team from Ohio scored 0. For some reason I don’t understand, that was not enough goals for NYCFC to win.
Their season ended Sunday night.
There were 5 extra minutes to play at the end of the game. You never know how many minutes are left at the end of the game. You just wait for the referee to blow the final whistle and that’s it. It’s the most exciting part of the game.
So the final whistle blew, and the game was over. So was the season.
Then it happened. About one minute of boooooooo’s from the crowd.
But one minute later, the boo’s stopped. And those still in the crowd started clapping. Then they clapped a little louder. Then a little louder.
The negativity left the stadium. Or maybe it was defeated by the positivity of the applause.
The four of us leaned against a small ledge on a terrace with a stunning view of the green asphalt resting over the diamond.
I looked at these 3 people. They were clapping. And I smiled inside. Because I knew.
I knew that at the end of the game, I was surrounded by people that clapped, instead of booed.
I was surrounded by people that stayed instead of left.
I was surrounded by people that celebrated instead of mourned.
But most of all, I was surrounded by people who kept their own score.
And we won.
Not just Sunday night.