Because You Never Asked

     (6/02)

     If one is athletically inclined, as this writer is, it's very difficult to come to Europe on a regular basis and not begin to interest yourself in this soccer thing. But even for the average American, who's soccer I.Q. is somewhere in the Mongoloid range, the word "hooligan" has taken on some new meaning in the last 20 years.

     Hooligan: youthful, male soccer fan, mostly associated with England but not exclusively, who follows his team to other countries primarily to instigate riotous, anarchic situations of physical aggression culminating in bloodshed, destruction of property and, on occasion, even to loss of life.

     Put simply, Hooligans come to soccer events to kick the bleep out of whoever wants to do the same to them. At this juncture of Hooligan history, it would be difficult to call these people soccer fans. Any logical observer can only conclude that the soccer matches are little more than an hors d'oeuvre to the pitched battles of urban slaughter that have become the main course for these hoodlums.

     Nor might one consider these manifestations as patriotic acts. A Hooligan certainly does not act with the Queen's honor in mind or in defense of their British heritage. Hooliganism seems to be far more an exercise in animal instinct than national pride. The participants are more like loosely confederated tribes or gangs than citizens of a contemporary nation state. Except for the fact that their purposes are different, Hooligans almost hearken back to the groups formed by humans in prehistoric times.

     Indeed, this is very primitive behavior.

     Every 4 years a tournament is played to decide which country is the champion of Europe. After 2 years of qualifying, the final 16 teams gather at one sight in order to crown the King. With the exception of Brazil and Argentina, nothing rivals European soccer and this tournament is second only to the World Cup in prestige.

     This is a year for the European Championships and it is being hosted jointly by Belgium and Holland. Unfortunately, once again, the unruly actions of the English Hooligans are hanging over the event like the stench of a nearby slaughterhouse. In spite of the fact that none of these actions are now a surprise to anyone --- the local police were hyper prepared and ready --- their Neanderthal behavior has not been adequately controlled. It has even been suggested, in the middle of the whole "fandango", that the English team be sent home. As I write, they have been given one more chance.

     Is it really possible to explain all this?

     Any attempt at an explanation could only be conjectural theory extracted from the whole tangled web of human experience collectively played out since the dawn of time. What I am about to offer could never be considered "Gospel" conclusion, but I feel confident enough to at least present it for discussion.

     One does not have to be a certified psychologist (or is it psychiatrist?) to realize that some kind of frustration is being acted out in these totally superfluous acts of violence and macho posturing. Nor does one have to be a certified sociologist to conclude that this Hooliganism is primarily a working class art form. (I think sociologists conclude such things.) It is not unusual for the less sophisticated laminations of modern Occidental society to manifest their feelings in violent behavior. Our great prizefighters do not come from the high fiber, low fat realm of weekend golf. In the past, working class frustration was usually the result of material deprivation; "we're poor, we're hungry" . etc. This could hardly be the case in analyzing Hooligan activities. England is a modern state that has provided well for its people. The young men participating in this burlesque are not suffering in their physical well being. They are well fed, well clothed, adequately housed and have enough spare change to periodically go forth and reek havoc in foreign lands. We are dealing with something far more subtle and subconscious in trying to understand this moronic display of irrationality.              

     If we can discard the frustrations of poverty, we can only suppose that something more emotional is triggering these outbursts of meaningless rebellion. (Would James Dean have been a Hooligan?) One possible explanation could relate this all to the exaggerated devotion our culture shows to "competition". Western society seems to be on a never-ending quest to divide us into "winners" and "losers", "successes" and "failures", people with or without "it". Perhaps modern man's ultimate motivation is driven by the difference between fame and anonymity. This neurotic compulsion to be someone other than another faceless form in the crowd, could be playing some part in this mutant behavior. Deep down in the dusty, cobwebbed basement of the Hooligan's consciousness, there must be the realization that the dye is already cast, that the jury is in: I am "nobody"; I will never be "somebody". I can't make a soccer ball stick to my foot like a piece of Velcro. The girl I make love to will not look like a Spice Girl. I am doomed to watch TV and not be on it.

     Perhaps more than anything, the Hooligan is seeking Andy Warhol's elusive 15 minutes of fame.

     One of the great ironies of modern life, in spite of the ever-growing avalanche of stimuli to amuse oneself with, is a tendency for people to be bored. There is so much diversionary choice to be had: so many television choices; so much music; so much sports; so many Disneylands and new movie releases; so much Internet, Online communications and E-Trade shopping possibilities. One might think this huge buffet of amusement choices would satiate most anyone's appetite for "fun", that it would almost obliterate the idea of boredom. But the buffet has turned out to be less a healthy source of sustenance and more a neurotic, unhealthy addiction.

     In a simpler time --- maybe no more than before the age of TV --- people lived more in step with the natural rhythms around them. The ebbs and flows of the seasons, the weather, and other more subtle elements, helped shape our expectations and behavior. We were not conditioned to expect more than that. We didn't need this constant flow of artificial stimulation to ward off boredom.

     Viewed against this backdrop, the irony of boredom in a hyper-stimulated world starts to become more logical. In much the same way an over emphasis on material things creates more stealing, an extreme dependence on outside stimulation will create more boredom. What will I entertain myself with next? What haven't I heard, seen or done before? What's new? What can excite me now? The more eternal, classic concepts of human stimulation --- the beauty of nature, of communal interaction, of the fraternal harmony of life itself --- are considered stale, outdated, uninteresting.

     I'm bored.

     The Hooligans have escaped boredom with perhaps the most effective, time-tested remedy of all: combat!

     A couple of days ago, one of the newspapers on the local stands plastered its front page with a large photo of a Hooligan. He was being led away by two Belgian "gendarmes". His hands were classically cuffed behind him, a position that seemed to thrust his chest and beach ball belly directly towards the viewer. His soiled tee shirt could not contain the full girth of his sumo-like stomach and a part of it oozed over his belt line like a piece of melted wax. A few strands of unruly hair escaped the cover of a red bandana and his arms were liberally sprinkled with a catalog of tattoos. He looked directly into the camera, as if he'd been looking for it all his life. Curiously enough, his expression had a Mona Lisa-like quality that was hard to decipher. Was he sneering or smiling?

     This particular Hooligan had now reached the pinnacle of his profession. "And the Oscar for the best performance by a Hooligan ."