HOW'S THIS FOR A HOLYWOOD ENDING?
Major League Soccer’s 2022 Cup Final had a script worthy of Tinseltown’s finest writers, with super-sized servings of tragedy, resurrection, unlikely heroes, guest star cameos and – spoiler alert – a slain elephant. Pass us the popcorn...
Words Simon Stephenson
A little before 7am in a park beside the Natural History Museum of Los Angeles, a group of Latino men are stringing a banner over a palm tree-lined walkway. Its letters, gold on a black background, spell Siempre a tu lado: ‘Always by your side’.
It’s the first Saturday in November and Major League Soccer’s Cup Final is not the biggest sporting event taking place in the United States of America today. It’s not even the biggest sporting event taking place in LA. Right across the street, 65,000 football fans – the other football – will rock up to watch a college game involving USC Trojans and Cal Bears, relegating the MLS Cup Final between LAFC and Philadelphia Union to the day’s second-biggest fixture in the 90037 zip code.
Near to the park, members of the 3252 LAFC supporters’ group are erecting gazebos, hooking up stereos and preparing industrial quantities of rice and beans. An hour later, music is blaring, the park is filled with people clad in black and gold, and the line for free breakfast stretches down the street. Vendors moving through the crowds offer cans of Modelo at $5 apiece, but the 3252 have their own beer supply and plenty to share besides.
Named for the capacity of their standing section, the 3252 are LAFC’s independent supporters’ union. They are the club’s heart and soul. Everybody standing in their section must be prepared to commit to 90 minutes of chanting and dancing – anybody willing to do so will be welcomed. Members of the 3252 share LAFC’s foundational commitment to respect and diversity. Even the group’s battle standard, a skull atop a pole, wears a top hat, as if to imply that any disputes are settled in a gentlemanly fashion.
Seemingly intent on testing the 3252’s adherence to this courteous code, at 9am a lone Philadelphia Union supporter wanders into the park. He is immediately swarmed by a group of heavy-set men dressed in black and gold. Does he want a drink, they ask? A taco? Directions? The only beef found here is being slow-cooked, seasoned and offered as a savoury olive branch by rival fans.
Half a mile away, other Philadelphia Union fans are getting their party on at a tailgate of their own – a tailgate being the North American sports version of a car boot sale, except that instead of bric-a-brac it’s large quantities of booze and food on
