Ah, once again we are upon the weekend. And any man worth his weight in blood, sweat and tears is gearing up for a weekend of football and nail biting match results of their favorite leagues. Although I have been told by Natasha's father that I am now too old to play the beautiful game, I hope to find myself involved in some pick-up games at the rather lovely artificial pitch at Cadman Plaza this Saturday morning. Although I find it to be a tremendous and competitive workout, it is a rather civil and gentlemanly affair compared to the lion's den that we where thrown into two weekends in St. Petersburg. Yes, the St. Petersburg in Russia.
To further my Russian birthday surprise, Natasha and Kate arrange for us to see last year's Russian premier league's champions Zenit go up against their much hated rival, Moscow's Spartak. It was no easy feat to procure four tickets in a city of eight million when the stadium can only hold 20,000 vodka fueled fans on opening day of a new season. But thankfully Kate's coworker, and our new friend, Andrey was up to the task. We don't know how he did it, but when asked, he just cracked a half grin, tilted his head to towards his shoulder and raised his eyebrows. Enough said.
Over the years I have heard people go on about how a particular basketball arena's fans screaming and jeering create a "sixth man" that crushes a visiting team's hope and spirt. I have witnessed the rowdiness of Yankee Stadium's "Bleacher Bums" harassing poser Yankee fans during the playoffs as harshly as they would a visiting Red Sox fan during the regular season. I have heard the pagan and base club chants of the English Premiership. And we have all seen American football's overweight, half-naked fans painted in team colors being escorted from the stadium after a few too many Bud Lights. But none of this was able to prepare myself for my day with Zenit.
After making our way though a 2 kilometer perimeter alcohol-free zone of police, militia and other uniformed and well protected, baton wielding peacemakers we found ourselves in a Russian line* to the one entrance of this moated stadium. After three more check points, ticket checks and frisks from stone-faced and muted guards we found our way up to our seats. With Natasha and Kate layered and covered from head to toe, we followed St. Petersburg native Andrey who was sporting a tee-shirt and Members Only type jacket on this cold, but sunny day.
We found ourselves seated about 20 yards from the visiting Spartak fan section, a pulsating, groaning mass of red, white and black flanked by helmeted riot police and at the ready. No, this was not Giants stadium where you could give a good old ribbing to the Dallas fan sitting next to you. This was war. And as with war of old, there were beating drums, battle cries and giant flags waving under an ominous and amassing storm front. But the corralled Spartak section seemed no match for the blue and white sea of Zenit fans that engulfed them. But then again, football matches are won and lost on the pitch.
Although this was opening day the pitch was grass bare, and a muddy mess. This is St. Petersburg in March after all, and as history has shown us, the people of this city are more hardened and determined than any the world has known before. And today's battle was no different. It was a skillfully played match where hustle and determination won balls and opportunities for the Zenit side. Half-time found us at nil, nil and in our own fight for hot dogs and candy. The hot dog, although covered in mustard, ketchup and thousand islands dressing, did little to put itself in league with a New York dirty-water-dog. However, the second half of the match would provide the fireworks that our snacks could not deliver.
As the second half began, so did the mayhem in the stadium as we started to see smoke bombs and flares light up at the far end of the stadium. All in all it looked like a commando operation or tragic railway accident that threatened a nearby town with toxic fumes. Natasha, Kate and I looked at each other as the stadium erupted with cheers. Play continued as the visiting fans showed what they were packing while the security forces looked on. As Andrey was to explain to us first-timers, this was all in line with normalcy, and the security forces had to give a little so the people could blow off some steam.
As the Zenit dominated game drew to a close, Spartak found themselves the lucky recipients of a 0-0 tie. A solemn procession of blue and white brought us around the stadium, through the still silent security forces and over the moat as Spartak supporters remained in the stadium for an escort to their awaiting busses. All in all an amazing experience to be remembered.
After a 2-0 win over Moscow last week, and an upcoming match against second place Rubin this week, I think that I will be following this talented Zenit team throughout the season. All the best to you and your team Andrey, thank you so much. I hope the next few weeks find you back on the pitch yourself.
* There is no such thing as a line in Russia as we found out.
