‘Army’ Rallies U.S. Soccer Team Fans
Taking a cue from rabid fans elsewhere around the world, members of Sam’s Army will do just about anything to call attention to the exploits of the U.S. soccer team.
The CONCACAF Gold Cup final between Mexico and the United States hadn’t even started Sunday at the Coliseum when the Sammers--as they call themselves--first raised Old Glory.
Dressed in their signature red shirts, they rang cowbells. They banged drums. They wore blue wigs. They donned American flags on their heads like turbans and draped them on their backs like Superman capes. They painted their faces red, white and blue.
Only the most loyal Sammers appeared to be on hand for Sunday’s loss to Mexico because, frankly, it was a surprise to Sam’s Army that the U.S. team had made it that far in the tournament.
Before each game, they set up camp behind one of the goals--”where the crazies sit,” as one of them said--and make their presence known with chants and songs. During the game, when calls don’t go their way, they sing uncomplimentary ditties about the family history of the offending referee.
“What we’re trying to do is create a little soccer culture for fans here,” said Mark Spacone, a Buffalo, N.Y., native who helped form the group. “We were just sick of the apathy. We want the players and the other fans to know we’re there.”
Their enthusiasm has paid off. Each game, Hank Steinbrecher, the general secretary of the U.S. Soccer Federation, pays a visit to the section where the red-shirted crazies have congregated, where he helps sing a few songs--and even bangs a drum.
The soccer players themselves have paid their respects to Sam’s Army.
After wins, players throw their jerseys into the sea of red shirts and waving hands. After a win over Guatemala in 1996, goalie Kasey Keller dove into the Sam’s Army crowd like a Green Bay Packers wide receiver, and the hooting Sammers passed him around over their heads like some human dessert tray.
“It was wild,” Spacone recalled. “He wanted us to crowd surf him. We loved it.”
Nowadays, with enough notice, 1,000 or more Sammers can show up for a big game. But for Sunday’s game, only Southern Californians and a few East Coast die-hards willing to shell out big bucks for last-minute plane tickets managed to show up.
The Gold Cup finale presented other challenges. With only 100 or so Slammers expected, the Army knew it would be outnumbered by tens of thousands of Mexico fans in the sold-out crowd of more than 91,000.
Days before the match, Brentwood Sammer Kyle Dane posted on the Sam’s Army World Wide Web site a warning about what to expect from the Mexico fans, who are known for arriving hours before the match and being extremely vocal. “Keep quiet about rooting for the U.S. until you get into the large group of Sammers,” the warning read in part.
“Once you start shouting ‘USA! USA!’ expect to get stuff thrown at you and lots of angry stares. Hopefully we can get together a big enough group that we can deter any further nastiness.”
The warning proved prophetic. The Sammers had planned to sit together near one of the goals but found their preferred seats taken by Mexico fans. So they split up into pockets around the stadium, waving flags at one another in support.
When the two teams took the field and a cluster of boisterous fans of the U.S. team raised aU.S. flag that stretched across 20 seats, fruit and cups of beer rained down from above.
“Something’s wrong when I can’t raise an American flag in my own country,” Sammer Paul Stewart of Northridge said, ducking as a lemon zinged past his head.
Paul Antonissen took the pelting in stride. Sporting a red and white Cat-in-the-Hat chapeau as well as a Dr. Seuss backpack, Mickey Mouse gloves and a red, white and blue scarf, the 34-year-old San Clemente resident represented the Sammers’ ethic: Enjoy yourself. Scream loud. And don’t worry about what the opposing fans are doing.
The group’s aim is to get noticed, but not through violence that has marred the image of soccer fans elsewhere, where people have been killed in fights before, after or even during matches.
The group got its start after the 1994 World Cup when Spacone and a friend--over beers at a Buffalo bar--decided to start a fan magazine for U.S. soccer followers as a way to capitalize on the energy and enthusiasm the games played in the United States had inspired.
They called their magazine Bookable Offense, for the term used in soccer when a player is cited for a foul and put on warning that he will be ejected for any further offense.
Using the Internet, they put the word out about their magazine and immediately received hundreds of responses. Membership has since grown to 6,000.
In 1995, a core of 25 to 30 fanatics started attending U.S. Cup games in Foxboro, Mass., Piscataway, N.J., and against the Mexican national team in Washington, where they were joined by even more people during the game.
They named themselves Sam’s Army after Uncle Sam, about the same time that coach Steve Sampson took the reins as the U.S. coach. “Most people think we’re named after Steve, but it’s actually old Uncle Sam,” Spacone said. “A couple of our guys even look like the old man himself.”
On Sunday, win or lose, the Sammers were just glad to be at the big game.
As the opposing team’s fans cheered and jeered all around him, as whistles blew and horns blared and fruit flew, Sammer Ozzy Villazon sat in his seat, shivering against the stiff February wind and beaming a satisfied smile.
“I love this, man,” he said. “I really love this.”
