I had an interaction today that I have probably had, to greater and lesser degrees, dozens of times in my life. The US was playing Mexico in a World Cup qualifying match, and I was going to watch with some people at a bar. When I arrived, the ever-present internal struggle of deciding who I was going to root for in the match reared its ugly head. Luckily, I now have a foolproof system for making this decision: I flip a coin. I flipped my coin, it landed on heads, and just like that the decision was made - tonight, I am a red-blooded American rooting for the unceremonious destruction of the Mexican National team. No mercy, just goals. Someone, a person I know tangentially through other people but certainly not a close friend, saw this coin flip. They really did not appreciate my system of deciding my rooting interest for the night and were incredulous at the idea that I could support both teams. This wasn’t a friendly anger; they were very very mad at me. They called me a “dirty Mexican” and a “Tex-Mex piece of shit.” Yes, you read that right. That sort of rhetoric might have been taken in jest if it came from one of my closest friends, as I am more than comfortable in a ball busting environment with people that I am close with but coming from a relatively unknown person this was a direct attack. I did not take kindly to it, and we got in a bit of a spat that got separated by our mutual friends. Falling into the toxic masculinity trap of pushing and shoving was not my proudest moment, but if there is a range of justifiability for standing up for yourself I’d say being called a “dirty Mexican” falls squarely in the acceptable side of the spectrum.

 

I can’t even be that mad at this person for their general reaction (I can be mad for the racial attacks, those were uncalled for) to my dual fandom, as if there is anything in my life that brings out unbridled passion and tribalism it is most definitely soccer. There is a way to have that discussion in a jovial way with a little playful ribbing, and we would probably end up being friends, but this person did not have such a tactful methodology in their toolbox. I totally get the enthusiasm. I live and die by my favorite soccer teams, Tottenham and Barcelona on the club level and the US and Mexico on the international level.

 

I know there will be some soccer hardos, of which I am one, who will read that I have two favorite club level teams and then scoff at me and write me off as not a “true fan.” Believe me, this dilemma is just a smaller version of this whole identity thing we have been talking about, so I know it isn’t ideal but let me try to briefly explain myself even though it is a total tangent. Tottenham was my first, and still main, love. I started supporting this club when I was in 3rd grade by total chance, as I just kind of randomly picked a team I was watching one day and decided I was a fan of that team. They weren’t a good team that year, they finished in the middle of the table and hadn’t won anything of note for years (and still haven’t since then much to my chagrin). Then, later in my life my grandmother on my father’s side would marry an Englishman who also supported Tottenham, so it only solidified my love of the club. Barcelona is the 1b to Tottenham’s 1a in my life, and as you probably could have guessed my support of this club stems from my Catalan roots. The only time I ever root against Barcelona is if they are playing Tottenham, and my hatred of their main rivals, Real Madrid, is only superseded by my hatred of Tottenham’s main foe Arsenal, or as I not so affectionately refer to them – Farsenal. I wish I could do a whole project on my love for my clubs and my hatred for our rivals, but alas that will have to wait. I am intensely proud of both of these clubs, and if you were to ask any of my friends, they will tell you how true this really is. Ok. Club soccer tangent over, back to the national level.

 

There is a slight problem with this support set up – the US and Mexican national soccer teams HATE each other and are bitter rivals. This isn’t your run of the mill American sports rivalry where fans might talk a little smack here and there. It isn’t a little “fuck Mexico” or “pendejos gringos” and then we all hug and get along after the match. This rivalry, like many other soccer rivalries, gets personal and sometimes violent. Mexican and American fans throw things from the stands at the players on the field, groups of so-called “ultras” or superfans get in fights in the streets, and the players do not hold back from violent tackles on the pitch. So, whenever a fan of one nation hears that I support both, it doesn’t sit well. They often tell me that I have to pick a side or that I am a traitor and should feel ashamed of myself. I have pretty thick skin, so I almost never take this personally (as we have seen, there is a line), but it doesn’t take a genius to see the parallels between this soccer dilemma with the broader issues at hand in my life.

 

Although circumstances, like the one I described above, that devolve into ad hominem racial and ethnic attacks are never warranted, I do think there is a validity to the underlying point. Players with dual citizenship have to decide what team they play for, and after a certain number of matches for their nation they are locked in and can’t change. I think I am nearing my cutoff point, and I should decide on a similar 1a and 1b setup like I have for my club teams. I have felt like this choice was overdue for a few years now, but every time I try to finalize my decision I feel this strange overwhelming sense of dread, so I give up. However, I think I am ready now. I can’t think of a better way to announce this life changing decision than through this journal entry, so here it is: Team USA 1a, Mexican National team 1b. I will not be taking questions at this time.