MIAMI GARDENS, Fla. — Some balked at the “alarming” ticket prices. Others were scared off by ICE. Some were denied visas by U.S. consular officers. Others simply didn’t give a crap about the Club World Cup. And yet, when this strange new tournament lifted off at 8:06 p.m. here on Saturday, tens of thousands of Al Ahly fans were bouncing, bringing it to life.
More than 60,000 people ultimately filled Hard Rock Stadium. The first arrived several hours earlier, possessed by excitement. They queued at entrances long before 5 p.m., when gates were scheduled to open. Hundreds packed into a narrow corridor, melting in 91-degree heat.
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“We’re gonna pass out,” one woman told a security guard.
Another in a hijab complained about the searing South Florida sun.
But most sang.
They jumped, and clapped, and sweat, and sang.
A few waved Egyptian flags. Others whipped out phones to capture the revelry. Some had traveled from New York, others from nearby, others from Cairo. They came with massive banners and drums, with joy and passion, the type that soccer — or football, or kurat al-qadam, or whatever you call it — makes irrepressible.
They came for a tournament that FIFA vastly overbaked and overhyped. As this inaugural Club World Cup approached in April, May and June, organizers became increasingly worried, and desperate to sell tickets. They slashed prices and concocted special deals. They offered five tickets for $20 to local college students, and freebies to veterans.
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Their fears of empty seats, and a drab atmosphere, hounded the buildup to the tournament. Their missteps, clearly, were plentiful.
But they were bailed out by the sport they govern.
They banked on Lionel Messi igniting their grand venture, and attracting his disciples to the opener. What they seemingly missed was that the allure of the Club World Cup is not glitz and megastars; it’s this organic, deep-rooted passion. It’s whatever compels whole families to arrive at 4:15 for an 8 p.m. match; whatever compels sane men to chant like lovable maniacs. It’s the communities and traditions and love that have grown around this sport over decades and decades, from the Middle East to Europe to South America and beyond.
That’s what brought tens of thousands of Al Ahly fans to South Florida to outnumber supporters of the local team that employs the greatest player ever.
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That’s what brought hundreds, if not thousands, of Palmeiras fans to Times Square the day before their first Club World Cup game Sunday at MetLife Stadium in North Jersey.
That’s what will drive, and in some ways save, this Club World Cup, from city to city and diaspora to diaspora.
There will be some mostly empty stadiums, and some that close their upper decks due to lagging ticket sales, and some duds. FIFA’s promotion (and pricing) of the tournament, at times misguided, at times arrogant, has largely failed in the host country. The Club World Cup, to many casual American fans, remains unknown or indistinguishable from the friendlies and preseason “tournaments” that tour the States every summer.
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And those casual American fans, unfortunately, are the ones to whom many aspects of the event have been tailored. At Saturday’s opener, there was a forgettable pregame show; in-stadium hosts and DJs; and NBA-style, individualized player intros. There were fireworks and a flyover, all sorts of things that might, for some, accentuate the experience.
But the Al Ahly fans in Section 304? They just wanted to sing.
So they sang, and fans halfway across the stadium recognized the songs, and joined in. They bopped up and down, pulsing their arms, making noise that enlivened a 0-0 draw.
And when there was a lull, in the upper deck behind one goal, some supporters of Boca Juniors — an Argentine club that plays here Monday — would randomly start up one of their songs.
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“Boca, my good friend,” they chanted in Spanish. “I don’t care what anybody says. I follow you everywhere. And every time I love you more.”
All of this continued through 90 scoreless minutes. In the 90th, Al Ahly fans were still bouncing. Entire sections of them were standing for no apparent reason — other than, in a word, soccer.
They had braved pregame gridlock and paid $40 for parking. Some had planned vacations that might be among the most expensive they’ll ever take. They made themselves, not Messi, the stars of the opener, and reminded us all why the Club World Cup will, at least to some extent, be a success.
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Or, at least, if you can get past your cynicism, it’ll be fun.
Not every stadium will come alive, but Saturday’s atmosphere, Inter Miami midfielder Telasco Segovia said, “was spectacular.”
