Forza Roma

It’s not entertainment, it’s identity.

We were told this before entering the stadium. I had been warned about the intensity we would face, but nothing could have prepared us for what we experienced.

It’s Thursday night and anticipation has been building. We walk down the street and see the red begin to bleed the streets. Police are positioned around the city. As we watch the pink glow above the stadium we buy our Roma scarves and jerseys. We are officially fans. We eat our sandwiches on the sidewalk, now fueled for the night ahead.

It’s time.

The crowd is pouring in from every direction. As you get closer to the stadium you can hear the shouts begin.

We walk down to our seats. Row 17 seat 10. We are on the front lines. And now it is war.

I take my seat and to my right there is bullet proof glass and guards. On the other side is the opposing team’s fans and the fighting has already begun. I may not know the words, but I understand the gestures. Taunting each other back and fourth from our side and there’s. Cups and trash are being thrown over the wall. The guards are already holding back men and the whistle hasn’t even blown.

I feel the pull. I am a Roma fan! This is my team. It’s starts the stirring in my heart and when they announce the players I cheer with all I have. Waving the banner we sing our anthem. Forza Roma! Forza Roma!

Game on!

The game goes on and I am half watching the ball on the field and half watching the fans next to me. Also watching from above for items being thrown. For 20 minutes after the first goal the man in front of me is shouting the same word with a matching gesture over and over. I don’t know the word, I don’t think I want to. They score the second goal to tie the game and the crowd erupts. Spain’s fans break through the wall of guards pushing and shoving. From our side they retaliate and push through our group to get to the wall. I wonder how strong the glass is. I miss both the goals because I am distracted. The game is tied 1-1 and excitement and fear fill my body. At half time they tape off the section which gives me little confidence. But when the whistle blows again and the armed police guards with shields and batons enter the stadium I feel some relief.

With minutes left in the game our eyes are glued on the field. Watching so many chances be missed. But now Spain has the ball and I can feel it building. No one is stepping. Where is our defense? The shot.

The silence is the sound of heartbreak. We don’t even react to the gestures behind the glass. The sadness is so heavy you can feel it.

No time left. It’s better to leave early. Walking up the stairs, passing faces of people broken in spirit.

The quote says it all. “You’re everyone’s when you win. You’re mine when you lose.” True love.

“It’s not entertainment. It’s identity.”

Football is a religion. For someone searching for meaning and purpose it offers everything our hearts desire, just in the wrong place.

The team and the players are the gods. You’re identity is your team. It’s not something you choose, you are born into it. It offers weekly worship at the temple, a stadium glowing at night. It’s has worship anthems that are sung from the bleeding throats of 100,000 fans. You have a community of people with loyalty deeper than blood with a common mission and purpose. You break bread together, feasting in the streets before the game. A purpose. You go to war each night as your team takes the field. And even when they disappoint you, you will still love them. Forza Roma.

One night at the stadium will prove that “Our hearts are restless, until we find our rest in Thee.”

God and the church offers us everything where Roma falls short. In Christ we have already won the war. Jesus is our MVP and He won our victory at Calvary. There was no bullet proof glass for Him when He took on the full weight of sin. And in Him we are born into a new team. We have a new identity that isn’t chosen. We are the Beloved. And we are invited into a new community, His bride the church. We gather to sing our hymns of praise for what He has done, break bread, and encourage one another in the faith.

And it’s a love we can never understand. He has chosen people to be His church and to be His bride. But we fall short. We fail and lose over and over. But that is grace. Undeserved love. “You are mine when you lose.”

And now our battle is not against flesh and blood but powers and principalities. We go to war everyday on mission in the battlefield of faith. Forza Yahweh.

“When we find our rest in thee.” Only then can we truly enjoy the game as it was meant to be. With an identity that can never be shaken.