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It's a bit of an understatement that the United States is big on sports. Be it baseball, basketball, or football, almost every American student has been on some sort of athletic team or taken lessons at some point during their childhood. Even more so, in the states, "sports" as a concept has taken on a life of its own: it's a billion dollar industry with multiple TV channels and a slew of weekends over the course of a year dedicated to various sporting endeavors.

So how do sports fit into Europe? More specifically, how do sports fit into the United Kingdom?

The biggest sport - in both Europe and the United Kingdom - is clearly football, or soccer as Americans call it. Each country has a national team, and various cities have their own teams as well. London, for example, has four teams that I know of, and near the end of October I went to one of the games.

I saw the Tottenham Hot Spurs play (and defeat) a Greek team at their home stadium. A friend of mine, who loves European football and actually understood what he was doing, organized the trip and booked field-level seats near the center of the pitch. The stadium - being outdoors - was quite cold, and it even started to rain at one point. However the atmosphere was lively - fans jumping out of their seat and screaming at goals or fouls - and the home team dominated play. Though I didn't know the official rules, it was easy enough to follow the action. My friend ended up explaining the rules to a group of us, but I mostly ignored him and focused on watching the game; I chose to apply NHL rules to the football game instead of struggling to digest my friend's diatribe, and for the most part, it served me well.

Hockey is one sport that England does not have, but the rest of Europe - especially the Slavic countries - loves. For me personally, one of the worst aspects of studying in London was the lack of hockey. Though I'm a Californian, my father instilled in me a love for the Philadelphia Flyers and ice hockey, and it kills me that I'm missing the first half of their season.

So when I traveled to Prague immediately following the football game in October, I made sure to catch a hockey match. The team names were all in Czech, so I have no idea who played who, but I do know that the home team won and it was a fantastic game. Since I'm so much more knowledgeable about hockey than I am about football, I can actually detail some differences between NHL hockey and European hockey.

To begin with, European rinks are slightly larger, their goalies are allowed to play the puck from anywhere behind the net, not just within the trapezoid, and offensive players are not allowed to enter the goalie's crease. Moreso, European hockey includes harsher penalties for players who break the rules.

And what do these rules include? No fighting. That's right, hockey lovers, in European hockey, you aren't allowed to fight or even be too physical. Check too hard? You're ejected from the game. Throw a single punch? You may be suspended for several games. As I witnessed in Prague, this creates a completely altered style of hockey. Instead of being physical, players emphasize their finesse and puck-handling skills. They use more fancy, fast passes and less of a forecheck to take the lead. How do I feel about these changes? Well for one thing, it makes it a little more understandable for me to watch players in the NHL - such as Finish Kimmo Timonen or Jaromir Jagr from the Czech Republic - play games so much less physical than American or Canadian born players. In general, however? I think I prefer American hockey. Though the skill with which these Slavic players handle the puck is awe-inspiring, there is a certain level of physicality I’ve come to expect in hockey, and it doesn’t feel right to watch the game without it.

Overall, Europe lacks some of the American sports - such as basketball and football - and it has some sports that we don’t have, like cricket and rugby. To anyone interested in studying abroad, I highly recommend watching some sort of athletic game in your foreign country; it can be really telling in regards to the culture.

By makenadingwell

image (7)It finally happened. I went somewhere where the line for the men’s bathroom was twice as long as the one for the women’s.

I attended my first official European football game! I had my eye on tickets for the Champions League game between Real Madrid and Liverpool for weeks and finally found a couple the night before. After going to local bars to watch games with friends all semester and missing the ‘El Clásico’ against Barcelona for a program excursion, I was itching for some football. I didn’t come to Madrid to miss seeing the team I’ve adored for years. I was not going to miss seeing the Spanish "B.B.C." players, which my Spanish professor explained stood for "Bale, Benzema, and Cristiano."

For days I scanned websites and daydreamt of finally seeing each esteemed player, the reverberation of chanting fans, and the sensation of being consumed by the crowd’s passion. And while the game was packed and invigorating, the atmosphere outside was almost as intense.

After anxiously adjusting my gloves and Madrid scarf, I set off from my quiet neighborhood for the chilly fifteen-minute walk to Santiago Bernabéu, Real Madrid’s enormous home stadium. The streets grew boisterous as the crowds collected by color. The bellowing Liverpool fans that amassed in scarlet red could be heard blocks away as they sang raucously. They paused at every other corner to survey the intersection, reaffirming their tourist status. As the shape of the colossal Bernabéu ultimately appeared, looming over the neighboring buildings, throngs of Real Madrid fans slowly emerged, arrayed in black and white and brushing past the lingering tourists. Some cheered passionately, but many merely chatted with each other in thick Spanish accents, occasionally smirking confidently at the disorderly Liverpool fans.image (6)

Upon arrival, I hurried into the nearby metro entrance to wait for my friend and to escape the crisp evening breeze. Anxiously scanning the rowdy crowds, I spotted a flustered older English fan struggling to communicate with a metro employee. When the unruly swarm of attendees filtered through the turnstiles and disappeared up the stairs, I approached the disillusioned pair and offered to translate. The fan had lost his family, and therefore his ticket to the match, while the metro employee offered advice for a meeting location. The whole transaction was both gratifying and comical, not only due to the proficiency of my Spanish, but also because the thick Liverpool accent seemed to be the harder of the two to understand.

As I walked away to accost my late friend, I overheard the British fan say to the employee, “Sweet girl, nice people you have in Madrid. Lucky she spoke English.” And so that’s how it ended, Madrid 1 – Liverpool 0, just like the final score sheet. I can't wait to go back.