By squeakyrobot
I am not loyal to the United States. This makes me a super adaptable sports fan. So when I got the opportunity to partake in Russia’s hockey season, to become one with the crowd as a SKA (St. Petersburg’s hockey team) fan, I couldn’t pass it up.
The SKA arena is situated in the southeast area of the city. It is appropriately named “The Ice Palace”. The stadium is in decent shape; it’s the typical donut layout you’d find in arenas all over the United States. In fact, the place felt so similar I occasionally forgot that I was in Russia. And then the cheer section shouting Russian slangs, cheers, rants, and curses would warp me back to the USSR.
It was SKA versus Kazan, a supposedly formidable opponent. But maybe they weren’t so formidable. We won five to two.
I loved the atmosphere. I loved the moment when my team made a goal and I loved everyone for a split second and everyone loved me. Impulsive shouting erupted from my vocal cords. I felt that tingle of excitement when SKA’s puck would hit the back of Kazan’s net. I jumped out of my seat with my hands in the air five separate times. I half-jumped when we all thought there was going to be a goal but it didn't work out.
Sports have a way of bringing the world together and a way of tearing it apart. My Kazan-supporting friend can attest. But the epic thing about sporting events is that they’re the same all over the world. It’s a language everyone speaks. Because you don’t need to speak. You don't think. You just feel. Some games or matches are more intense than others, and that's when the lack of though gets dangerous: riots and fighting might break out, fans might storm the field, and fires may spontaneously burst into existence. But there is no difference between a hockey game in Russia and a hockey game in the United States or elsewhere. These events attract those who are most passionate, and that passion translates into a perfectly palpable experience. Everyone was Russian in that stadium, even if you weren’t Russian.