Though my hometown of Portland, Oregon may have only carried the moniker “Soccer City U.S.A.” since 1977 when Pelé played his final competitive match there in front of a packed Civic Stadium crowd, the city has done everything it possibly can to retain that title since. From boasting one of Major League Soccer’s cornerstone franchises in the Timbers whose season ticket waiting list still numbers in the thousands despite a recent stadium renovation that added a near 20% increase in seating capacity, to the NWSL powerhouse Thorns whose record-shattering attendance figures have championed sustainability for the women’s game at the club level, over the last four-plus decades the “City of Roses” has become something of an enclave for soccer fandom in the United States.
A city far ahead of the curve in a nation that on the whole is still learning to appreciate the sport in the way most of the rest of the world does. For me, the prevalent soccer culture is nowadays as much an identifying characteristic of where I grew up as its rainy climate, craft beer, and liberal politics. This, however, was not always the case.
New York Cosmos’ Pelé in action against Seattle Sounders at Civic Stadium. Portland.
Truthfully, growing up in the Portland area I was largely unaware of the city’s place in soccer lore, oblivious to the game’s immense popularity there, and unfamiliar with the vast and meandering Timbers franchise history that dates back to the mid-1970s, beginning in an unrecognizable version of the very same stadium they continue to call home to this day. As a youngster my first love among sports was basketball, and as far as I knew, the only major franchise we had to call our own in town was the NBA’s Trail Blazers, a team and league that are and will always remain close to my heart. As I got older my appreciation for sports branched out to baseball, and later to NCAA and NFL football, but I still had yet to really discover soccer. In the first 29 years of my life, the only live exposure I had to the game at a professional level was the Portland Pride, the city’s early 1990s representative in the long-defunct Continental Indoor Soccer League
View of the new 4,000 seat, four level structure at the Portland Timbers Providence Park stadium addition project.
When I was 25, my entire sports panorama changed. While living at home in Portland, a full year removed from completing studies as a classically-trained musician and seeking steady employment as a member of a full-time symphony orchestra, I accepted a position in México, a country which I have now called home for nearly a decade. I arrived first for a brief stint with an orchestra in Monterrey, a city which in recent years has become known as an epicenter of footballing excellence due to the success of its two standout clubs Tigres and Rayados. Yet it was not until a year later when I took a job with another orchestra in the colonial Central-Mexican city of Guanajuato, that a relative ambivalence toward the sport of soccer grew into an unexpected and unbridled fervor.
Monterrey’s Rogelio Funes Mori (left) fights for the ball with Tigres’ Carlos Salcedo.
Shortly before I arrived in Guanajuato in late 2012, nearby Club León had recently earned promotion back to Liga MX after a ten-year spell in the country’s second division. A historic organization in Mexican soccer since the 1940s that had descended into a period of irrelevance in the early 2000s, they had stormed back into contention at the highest level behind dynamic Uruguayan manager Gustavo Matosas and young players such as Luis Montes, Carlos ‘Gullit’ Peña, and José ‘Gallo’ Vázquez who would grow into stars both for club and country. Having grown up as a heavily-invested sports fan and now arriving in a city and region where I saw myself settling down and building a life, following the local Liga MX club seemed like a natural next step.
Gustavo Matosas reacts during a match between León and Club América, in 2012.
Although in México (compared to the US), the size of a club’s fanbase seems to depend less on its regional connection and more on its historical popularity and media exposure, the physical proximity of a team I support to an area with which I have close, personal ties has always mattered greatly to me, and as such I saw León as the only logical choice for a club to support. Even if they had not been the nearest option geographically, the fast-paced, attacking, high-scoring style of play that Matosas instilled in the organization and the resounding success the team enjoyed on the pitch during the first few years I followed them would have been an ideal introduction to the beautiful game for any budding fan.
A fan of León celebrates his team’s victory after a Liga MX game.
What began as a casual following quickly grew into a fierce dedication and I have now been a León season ticket-holder for the past nine seasons. Given the close proximity between most Liga MX cities I have also attended nearly every away match over the past five years. I still work as an orchestra musician but much of my free time is devoted to soccer. I am known within the club’s social media as “El #FieroViajero”, a portmanteau in Spanish of team nickname “La Fiera” (The Beast) and “viajero” (traveler). As of March 2020 I have attended a total of 200 live León matches, between Liga MX, Copa MX, CONCACAF Champions League, and club friendlies.
León team acknowledges the fans after a CONCACAF Champions League game
As both my knowledge and appreciation for soccer blossomed, I never forgot my roots, and the desire to connect with my hometown Portland Timbers also grew. By the time I began following León, the Timbers were a few years into their MLS existence and establishing themselves as a league powerhouse, winning their first regular season conference title in 2013. I finally managed to see the Timbers for the first time live in 2014 and have made sure to attend at least one home match in Portland every season since. By the time the Timbers claimed their first MLS Cup trophy in 2015, I was a diehard fan of both my hometown and adoptive home teams.
Portland Timbers’ players celebrate after winning the 2015 MLS Cup.
Supporting both a Liga MX and an MLS club in the US is certainly nothing rare. Liga MX remains the most-watched soccer league in the US in terms of television ratings. With such a prominent demographic of Mexican origin in the United States, many fans retain close ties with the clubs of their ancestors, even if they have also adopted an MLS franchise as their own. My story, however, is far more unusual. I take pride in being one of the few Americans with no Mexican ancestry living in México and growing to love a Liga MX club as much or more than the teams I grew up following in the US. My enthusiasm has even spread to my parents back in Portland. In addition to Timbers matches, they also watch all of León’s on Spanish-language television, even though they do not understand the commentary. We all now feel equally comfortable in either club’s jersey. It helps that both teams wear green!
The Timbers Army supporters group displays numerous flags.
It is difficult to completely put into words what being a fan of these two clubs has meant to me. Soccer was something I never even knew I needed in my life and now it is responsible for some of my most memorable experiences, through the support of these teams. Seeing León play two club friendlies at Providence Park in 2016 and 2017 amongst Portland-area León fans was almost surreal. As was accompanying the Timbers Army in Atlanta for the 2018 MLS Cup final and being present at both legs of the 2019 Liga MX Clausura final. Like it aslo was to witness the greatest US Men’s National Team player of all time, Landon Donovan, suiting up for León to finish his professional playing career.
Landon Donovan playing for León during a 2018 Clausura Tournament Liga MX game.
Two clubs 2,500 miles apart and separated by an international border, two fandoms that have found ways to intertwine on a personal level. With as much as is being rumored about a possible MLS/Liga MX Superleague, the possibility of my two favorite clubs ultimately squaring off in a competitive match could become much more likely. Honestly, from an emotional standpoint, I hope that never happens!
