It’s amazing that no matter where you travel, some things are universal - no matter how different people or places initially seem. For instance; airports always seem to have only two check-in gates manned and open when you’re trying to board your flight, despite there being another twenty or so that are sitting idle. Alternatively, you can be anywhere from Indiana to India and you’ll still see those familiar golden arches.
Football is one of these universal concepts.
During my stay in Europe I’ve periodically worn my Socceroo or Glory gear - not just because I’m proud of the teams I support, but simply because living in Perth I’ve never really had need to buy scarves or beanies outside my sporting pursuits - the simple fact is, they’re all I’ve got. As you may well imagine, these unusually coloured garments have attracted a number of surprised looks from the European public; you get plenty of double takes, especially when in areas not often frequented by tourists. If nothing else, it’s an excellent conversation starter with the natives.
‘oose P - G - F - C then?
This was the very first question asked of me when I ordered breakfast at a small-town cafe in Mansfield, just north of Nottingham, last month. I didn’t even get to specify how I’d like my tea (one sugar, thanks) before the inquisitive middle-aged lady behind the counter started her interrogation. I started to explain about my football team back home - What, proper football or that ‘Ozzie Rules’? Oh, lovely, football then - and soon enough she came out with some fairly remarkable statements of her own.
“Ooh, I had a cousin, he played for let me see - Sydney Olympia - in the 1980s” she readily explained. “He really loved it down there - works at a local school now you see”. I had a bit of a laugh, explained the end of the NSL to the beginning of the new league, but she was already lost in her nostalgia. “Could have moved there too you see, but I’m scared of sharks. How’s Olympia doing these days then?”.
“Er, good...” I said, taking my English breakfast and looking over at the free table next to me. “I think they’re doing quite well. They’re expecting a big increase in fans this year, too”. As this seemed to make her happy, I had no intention of telling her that ‘doing well’ for Sydney Olympic consisted of the NSW Premier League and that ‘big increase’ in fans meant ceasing the counting of animals as fans and having a line of people at the canteen ten-deep.
Ne, Australan!
I had yet another close encounter of the football kind in a souvenir shop in the Old Jewish Quarter of Prague. With my Socceroos scarf wrapped around my neck in a poor attempt to keep out the -6C maximum temperature, the shop assistant swanned over to me crying, “Ah, Brasil!”. Pausing in confusion for a second, I remembered my manners and managed to stammer “Ne - Australan”, although this didn’t put him off for a second. Evidently sensing an easy sale through male chumminess, he put an arm on my shoulder and said in a heavy Czech accent, “I like your hat”.
Considering my purple Glory beanie was sitting on my head, I was immediately confused as to whether this bloke was a Glory supporter, a former visitor to Perth, or mistaking me for a Fiorentina fan. In any case, I doubt it mattered - he had an audience and he was going to use it. Pointing to a ridiculously overpriced and most likely fake AC Sparta Prague replica shirt, he said “This - this is my team. I give you good price!”. Whilst desperately trying to avoid being sold a shirt whose logo was clearly no more than a sticker pasted on red-brown cotton, I suddenly noticed a green scarf featuring, of all things, a kangaroo.
Bohemian Rhapsody
In the early 1980s, Bohemians was one of the form teams of communist Czechoslovakia. Collecting the 1982/83 Czechoslovak First League title and appearing in the semi finals of the UEFA Cup, they were a top side prior to AC Sparta Prague’s three decade long domination of the league. The club was originally established in 1905, but it wasn’t until 1927 that ‘Bohemka’ were to gain their rather unique sporting identity.
You see, around this time Australian soccer’s governing body wanted a high-class European team to tour the country and inspire the populace to play this very British of games. The mother country was the obvious choice, but England soon rejected their overtures, seeing no point in coming to such a footballing backwater - colony or no colony. Other big-name European sides were also approached, but saw no value in Australia either. Then some bright spark had the idea of taking this Prague-based club, relabelling them ‘Czechoslovakia’, and bringing them out to the other side of the world. After all, being a backwater, the Australian public wouldn’t know the difference...
To the Australian Soccer Association’s credit, the tour was actually highly successful. Good crowds came to see the teams play, the football was of a high standard, and Bohemians may as well have been the Czech national team given the number of gifted players they boasted. Australia loved Bohemians, and what’s more, Bohemians loved Australia. When the players finally ended their tour, it is said that many wanted to stay behind rather than return to their homeland.
As a parting gift, the team was given two live kangaroos, which they ended up donating to the Prague Zoo. They evidently cast a fair spell on the team as, in a final nod towards the hospitality of their hosts, the club approved a change of logo to none other than the kangaroo, the enduring image of the Australian outback. Now, I’m not one to judge here, but you didn’t see the ‘Hong Kong Chinese’ team which toured around the same time do the same thing.
But the Bohemians story doesn’t end there - oh no. In 2005, the club unfortunately went bankrupt, and was relegated to the third tier of football in the Czech Republic. In an act of gross commercialism, another club called FC Strižkov Praha 9 (fantastic name, really) saw a marketing opportunity and bought up the now-bankrupt Bohemians brand. Now calling themselves FC Bohemians Praha, this club kept the Kangaroo as a feature of top-level Czech football.
As you may imagine, ‘real’ Bohemians supporters were rather upset at this development, and in true football fan style they formed their own team, Bohemians 1905, to carry on the legacy of the original club. In a story deserving of its own hollywood film, last year 1905 finally managed to gain promotion back to the Gambrinus Liga; where they now face none other than FC Bohemians Praha, the ‘fake Bohemka’. This meant that Prague residents could now experience the rather insane concept of a ‘Kangaroo’ derby in the middle of their city, god knows how many miles away from Kangaroo country. In a delicious twist of poetic justice, the current Gambrinus Liga table shows that Bohemians 1905 are currently seven points clear of their copycat rivals, who occupy last place on the league table.
Lost In Translation
Now, I don’t know about you, but I love this kind of thing. It is one of the truly great things about our game that no matter where you go, you will find a story worth telling or a fellow fan who, despite all language barriers, can demonstrate as much passion for their team as you do for yours. In a world where we are increasingly suspicious of anyone different to ourselves, it’s reassuring to know that we have things like football to remind us that we’re not altogether that different at all.
FIFA recognises 208 different nations as part of their footballing umbrella. Think about that for a moment - this is an international organisation with more members than the United Nations. It means that you can be anywhere from Djibouti to Denmark, or Australia to Aruba, and someone will be kicking a football around. Our game - the world game - truly is a universal language.
It’s only fitting then that in the week leading up to the Wellington-Perth elimination final, I happened to be in a tour group walking around Prague with a couple of Kiwi travellers. Naturally, we got talking about our respective journeys, the quality of the local beer, and the fact that a Czech hobo was playing the digeridoo in the middle of Charles Bridge. At one point, I asked if he was going to be watching the big game against the boys from the west this weekend, and he nodded. “Can’t wait to whip your boys back across the Tasman” he said.
Surprised yet again at how this truly global sport can strike up conversation in the most remote of places, I immediately launched into some ‘Glory Reject’ banter, and some opinions on ex-Kiwi and Glory players Adrian Webster and Jeremy Christie. Puzzled, he looked at me before replying - “Nah bro, I’m talking ‘bout the Super Rugby. Soccer’s for poofs!”
Proving, I suppose, that even the most universal of languages still has its limits.
