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Crew Crazies
A little vulgarity, a little controversy and a lot of cheering and jeering is breathing new life into the soccer season
By CRAIG MERZ
When the Columbus Crew displaced the Hudson Street Hooligans, its largest and ballsiest supporter group, from a prime taunting location behind the north goal of Crew Stadium after the 2007 season to make way for a drab concrete concert stage, the move was met with disdain from scorned fans.
Even the Crew Union supporters in section 103 on the east side of the stands were sympathetic to the plight of HSH.
“We shared same concerns. It was their area,” the Union’s Kevin McCollough said.
What could have been a public relations nightmare—the disenfranchising of the most ardent fans—evolved into a coup for the front office.
Flash ahead to a rowdy night in late May where more than 1,500 people are immersed in a cauldron of drumbeats, smoke bombs, F-bombs and streamers in the northeast corner of the stadium now known as Nordecke—German for “north deck” in homage to the city’s heritage.
The bleachers are mere steppingstones for those who stand and scream, “You suck, asshole!” every time the New England keeper has a goal kick. The assemblage from Hudson Street Hooligans, Crew Union and the mostly Latino La Turbina de Las Amarillas (Yellow Turbines) are now collectively packed into sections 139-142. “It turned out really good. It got everybody together,” Smith said. “It was something that, I guess, if we were a little smarter we would have welcomed it. But when it first came around we were like, ‘Hey, they took out our section.’”
No longer does the House that Lamar (Hunt) Built resemble the stoic indifference at another Ohio State-Youngstown State yawner in Ohio Stadium; a basketball game Value City Arena-style, or the resigned doom that permeates Nationwide Arena after another oh-so-close loss.
“The difference is huge,” said Crew coach Sigi Schmid. “I have been coming to Columbus watching games and now coaching games since 1999. The atmosphere has never been better here. It’s a united front.”
At least it was until the last Major League Soccer home game on July 5, when some members of La Turbina felt they were being targeted for abuse, allegedly by a member or members of the other support groups. At the international exhibition (a “friendly” in soccer talk) against Argentina’s Independiente on July 10, La Turbina separated themselves and formed on the opposite side of the stage in the northwest corner.
The rift was as much cultural as physical, according to Crew Union’s McCollough, because La Turbina favors a vibrant South American-style flair with a constant drumbeat and percussions.
“Turbina is a way of expressing how you love the game. It’s very authentic, very unique. Its roots are in the Spanish culture. It’s a way of celebrating the game,” said Chile native Eddie Carvacho, the Crew’s director of Hispanic Business Development.
Yet, the persistent thump-thump-thump apparently interfered with the other groups’ European-influenced chants and cheers, sparking an in-house squabble resembling the Franklin County Commissioners awarding of contracts for Huntington Park.
Although group leaders downplayed the split, a supporters’ summit was arranged Tuesday evening at Crew Stadium. The meeting was critical enough to draw Schmid and five players—including Spanish-speaking forwards Guillermo Barros Schelotto of Argentina and Alejandro Moreno of Venezuela.
More than 30 people representing the three fan groups attended.
“We wanted to let them know all of them are important to our success and if there are any ideas, we need to talk,” Schmid said.
That they did in the Huntington Club for more than 70 minutes in a gathering that was closed to the media. The parties emerged smiling and seemingly ready to go arm-in-arm and sing “Kumbaya” (second verse in Español, por favor) at tonight’s home game against Kansas City.
La Turbina will return to the Nordecke and, in turn, the other groups will ensure their seats are saved before the match as well as help with hanging banners. The supporters will try to better coordinate the drums and chants and the two Anglo-centric groups are learning some Spanish songs.
“We didn’t really know any last year. Now we know two or three,” McCollough said.
To be fair, the Hooligans and Crew Union are philosophically different as well. While the Hooligans hang out at Ruby Tuesday (the bar on Summit Street, not the restaurant chain), drink up and march to the stadium, the Crew Union prefers Fado Irish Pub at Easton for its soccer viewing parties.
Inside Crew Stadium, the Hooligans are the R-rated rants of the late George Carlin, while the Crew Union would be the mainstream musings of Jerry Seinfeld.
Yet, they co-exist, separated only by an aisle, “At this point we couldn’t afford to have a rivalry if we wanted to. We need to get more people sitting in this section,” Smith said.
Collectively, the Nordecke has pulled some of the attention away from one of the best Crew seasons in franchise history. The team has the second-most points in MLS and appears poised to see its first post-season action since 2004. During a May 24 game against New England, a fan’s video caught an unidentified person (supporters insist it was a straggler and not one of their own) yelling racial slurs at Revolution players. This occurred after bottles were tossed onto the field and play was disrupted when streamers canvassed the area in front of Nordecke, where the Revolution attempted corner kicks.
“That was a wakeup call,” said Crew general manager Mark McCullers. Before the next home game on June 7, the league slapped Crew fans on the hand with an edict: “Streamers are not to be used to impact on-field competition or thrown toward a player, referee or stadium staff member. While the spontaneous use of streamers and confetti as an expression of fan enthusiasm will not be prohibited, the continued practice will be kept under review.”
While the mandate was issued league-wide, it clearly was intended for Columbus and became a source of agitation—McCullers said his staff had come to the same conclusion and could have handled it internally. It also became a badge of honor.
“On some degree it makes you feel a little proud because it was directed at us,” Smith said. “I don’t think we went too far throwing streamers. People who threw beer bottles at opposing teams, that shouldn’t happen. People who throw smoke bombs in the run of play, that shouldn’t happen and I understand the front office banning smoke bombs.”
Added McCollough, “I had mixed feelings. We brought a great atmosphere here. We’ve gotten people very involved and enthusiastic. At the same time we had a few people who crossed the line. They gave us an inch and they took a mile.”
This wasn’t the first time MLS issued a warning to the Crew about fan behavior. After Columbus scored twice in the final three minutes to beat New England 3-2 on May 11, 1996, in the third-ever home game, the fans stormed the Ohio Stadium pitch as the stunned—and probably scared—players jumped the sign boards and raced toward the locker rooms. The team was threatened with a fine if there was a repeat performance.
Calmer times have prevailed since the latest MLS bow-shot in Crew Stadium. The number of tossing incidents has dropped noticeably. McCullers went so far as to say he’d feel safe letting his family sit among the supporters. Still, signs are posted and fans are warned when they buy tickets that their seats are near the rowdy revelers.
“If that’s the experience you want, that’s the place to be. If not, there are other options,” McCullers said.
Schelotto, who has witnessed rabid fans in his home country, where fields are surrounded by barbed wire fences, said he appreciates what the supporters in Columbus are doing. He said he especially enjoys the interplay when he sets up for a corner kick and Nordecke, in unison, gives the Wayne and Garth “We’re not worthy” bow.
“The people give the love for me,” he said. “I like it. Here it’s good, it’s fun.” That’s the whole idea, Smith said of his group, “I can’t speak for everybody, but the majority of people, we just like to stand and yell and drink.”
And if there are the sporadic squabbles, well, that’s because it’s a family, said Carvacho.
“We all love the Crew. That’s the underlying objective. That corner exemplifies Columbus because of the diversity not only of race, but the diversity of ideas and ways of expressing themselves.”
If Nordecke indeed represents a snapshot of the city, then a chorus of “You suck” is in order. But please, no streamers.
“We were pissed off,” said Hooligan Jonathan “Smitty” Smith.
Even the Crew Union supporters in section 103 on the east side of the stands were sympathetic to the plight of HSH.
“We shared same concerns. It was their area,” the Union’s Kevin McCollough said.
What could have been a public relations nightmare—the disenfranchising of the most ardent fans—evolved into a coup for the front office.
Flash ahead to a rowdy night in late May where more than 1,500 people are immersed in a cauldron of drumbeats, smoke bombs, F-bombs and streamers in the northeast corner of the stadium now known as Nordecke—German for “north deck” in homage to the city’s heritage.
The bleachers are mere steppingstones for those who stand and scream, “You suck, asshole!” every time the New England keeper has a goal kick. The assemblage from Hudson Street Hooligans, Crew Union and the mostly Latino La Turbina de Las Amarillas (Yellow Turbines) are now collectively packed into sections 139-142. “It turned out really good. It got everybody together,” Smith said. “It was something that, I guess, if we were a little smarter we would have welcomed it. But when it first came around we were like, ‘Hey, they took out our section.’”
No longer does the House that Lamar (Hunt) Built resemble the stoic indifference at another Ohio State-Youngstown State yawner in Ohio Stadium; a basketball game Value City Arena-style, or the resigned doom that permeates Nationwide Arena after another oh-so-close loss.
“The difference is huge,” said Crew coach Sigi Schmid. “I have been coming to Columbus watching games and now coaching games since 1999. The atmosphere has never been better here. It’s a united front.”
At least it was until the last Major League Soccer home game on July 5, when some members of La Turbina felt they were being targeted for abuse, allegedly by a member or members of the other support groups. At the international exhibition (a “friendly” in soccer talk) against Argentina’s Independiente on July 10, La Turbina separated themselves and formed on the opposite side of the stage in the northwest corner.
"The atmosphere has never been better here," said Crew coach Sigi Schmid.
The rift was as much cultural as physical, according to Crew Union’s McCollough, because La Turbina favors a vibrant South American-style flair with a constant drumbeat and percussions.
“Turbina is a way of expressing how you love the game. It’s very authentic, very unique. Its roots are in the Spanish culture. It’s a way of celebrating the game,” said Chile native Eddie Carvacho, the Crew’s director of Hispanic Business Development.
Yet, the persistent thump-thump-thump apparently interfered with the other groups’ European-influenced chants and cheers, sparking an in-house squabble resembling the Franklin County Commissioners awarding of contracts for Huntington Park.
Although group leaders downplayed the split, a supporters’ summit was arranged Tuesday evening at Crew Stadium. The meeting was critical enough to draw Schmid and five players—including Spanish-speaking forwards Guillermo Barros Schelotto of Argentina and Alejandro Moreno of Venezuela.
More than 30 people representing the three fan groups attended.
“We wanted to let them know all of them are important to our success and if there are any ideas, we need to talk,” Schmid said.
That they did in the Huntington Club for more than 70 minutes in a gathering that was closed to the media. The parties emerged smiling and seemingly ready to go arm-in-arm and sing “Kumbaya” (second verse in Español, por favor) at tonight’s home game against Kansas City.
La Turbina will return to the Nordecke and, in turn, the other groups will ensure their seats are saved before the match as well as help with hanging banners. The supporters will try to better coordinate the drums and chants and the two Anglo-centric groups are learning some Spanish songs.
“We didn’t really know any last year. Now we know two or three,” McCollough said.
To be fair, the Hooligans and Crew Union are philosophically different as well. While the Hooligans hang out at Ruby Tuesday (the bar on Summit Street, not the restaurant chain), drink up and march to the stadium, the Crew Union prefers Fado Irish Pub at Easton for its soccer viewing parties.
Inside Crew Stadium, the Hooligans are the R-rated rants of the late George Carlin, while the Crew Union would be the mainstream musings of Jerry Seinfeld.
Yet, they co-exist, separated only by an aisle, “At this point we couldn’t afford to have a rivalry if we wanted to. We need to get more people sitting in this section,” Smith said.
Collectively, the Nordecke has pulled some of the attention away from one of the best Crew seasons in franchise history. The team has the second-most points in MLS and appears poised to see its first post-season action since 2004. During a May 24 game against New England, a fan’s video caught an unidentified person (supporters insist it was a straggler and not one of their own) yelling racial slurs at Revolution players. This occurred after bottles were tossed onto the field and play was disrupted when streamers canvassed the area in front of Nordecke, where the Revolution attempted corner kicks.
“That was a wakeup call,” said Crew general manager Mark McCullers. Before the next home game on June 7, the league slapped Crew fans on the hand with an edict: “Streamers are not to be used to impact on-field competition or thrown toward a player, referee or stadium staff member. While the spontaneous use of streamers and confetti as an expression of fan enthusiasm will not be prohibited, the continued practice will be kept under review.”
In other words, puff it, but don’t inhale.
While the mandate was issued league-wide, it clearly was intended for Columbus and became a source of agitation—McCullers said his staff had come to the same conclusion and could have handled it internally. It also became a badge of honor.
“On some degree it makes you feel a little proud because it was directed at us,” Smith said. “I don’t think we went too far throwing streamers. People who threw beer bottles at opposing teams, that shouldn’t happen. People who throw smoke bombs in the run of play, that shouldn’t happen and I understand the front office banning smoke bombs.”
Added McCollough, “I had mixed feelings. We brought a great atmosphere here. We’ve gotten people very involved and enthusiastic. At the same time we had a few people who crossed the line. They gave us an inch and they took a mile.”
This wasn’t the first time MLS issued a warning to the Crew about fan behavior. After Columbus scored twice in the final three minutes to beat New England 3-2 on May 11, 1996, in the third-ever home game, the fans stormed the Ohio Stadium pitch as the stunned—and probably scared—players jumped the sign boards and raced toward the locker rooms. The team was threatened with a fine if there was a repeat performance.
Calmer times have prevailed since the latest MLS bow-shot in Crew Stadium. The number of tossing incidents has dropped noticeably. McCullers went so far as to say he’d feel safe letting his family sit among the supporters. Still, signs are posted and fans are warned when they buy tickets that their seats are near the rowdy revelers.
“If that’s the experience you want, that’s the place to be. If not, there are other options,” McCullers said.
Schelotto, who has witnessed rabid fans in his home country, where fields are surrounded by barbed wire fences, said he appreciates what the supporters in Columbus are doing. He said he especially enjoys the interplay when he sets up for a corner kick and Nordecke, in unison, gives the Wayne and Garth “We’re not worthy” bow.
“The people give the love for me,” he said. “I like it. Here it’s good, it’s fun.” That’s the whole idea, Smith said of his group, “I can’t speak for everybody, but the majority of people, we just like to stand and yell and drink.”
And if there are the sporadic squabbles, well, that’s because it’s a family, said Carvacho.
“We all love the Crew. That’s the underlying objective. That corner exemplifies Columbus because of the diversity not only of race, but the diversity of ideas and ways of expressing themselves.”
If Nordecke indeed represents a snapshot of the city, then a chorus of “You suck” is in order. But please, no streamers.
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