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Do we have songs?

16/05/2014 By Andy 9 Comments

At the Melbourne Victory – Liverpool match at the MCG in July 2013, some 90,000 sang the classic ballad, You’ll Never Walk Alone. This has become the anthem that unites Liverpool fans throughout the world. It is sung when the team enters the playing field and during games in order to heighten the intensity, the drama and to further encourage the players.

You’ll Never Walk Alone is also the song that is played in the lead up to running marathons in The Netherlands. As I waited at the start line in the Rotterdam marathon, I felt an odd sense of convergence: on that day Liverpool would play Manchester City, the winner seemingly to be in the primary position to win the League title. I was one of 10,000 or so: in my starting block there were mostly men, upwards of 30, dressed in the bare essentials of running gear. I imagined the different crowds of (mainly) men at Liverpool football matches, with fans holding aloft the red scarves: chanting the song in a stoic and reverent manner.

In the week leading up to the game against Melbourne Victory, Liverpool had also been in Jakarta to play against a composite team, known as the Indonesian All Stars. That there were still two main leagues of soccer in Indonesia made it difficult to form a single national team that could best represent the best of Indonesian soccer. But, the crowd, on this day at least, was just like the Melbourne crowd: they were the to see Liverpool. And so, packed into the Gelora BungKarno stadium, some 90,000 sang You’ll Never Walk Alone with a passion and exuberance equal to that of Anfield or Melbourne. The match was as dull as it would be in Melbourne: but, all could state that they had seen the Liverpool play.

 

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But, Liverpool’s victory against Manchester City turned out to be a false sign of the eventual winner of the EPL. A disappointing loss to Chelsea, a shocking draw with Crystal Palace and the title became City’s with ease. City won the title through being consistent and not slipping up along the way. Liverpool played the exciting football and captured a enraptured audience throughout the world. And soon after the title became City’s, subscribers of Instagram were uploading videos directly from Anfield with the hashtag #ynwa.
The 15 second clips of footage were showing the Liverpool fans defiantly singing, chanting You’ll Never Walk Alone at the game’s beginning and conclusion: as if singing along could claim the title that seemed to be within Liverpool’s grasp. Suarez, of 31 goals, left the field with his face covered beneath his shirt, guided by Kolo Toure. He wasn’t walking alone, but this was a disappointing moment. He had given so much joy, hope and pleasure to Liverpool fans throughout the season, he should have looked them in the eyes – each 44,000 of them – and thanked them for their unwavering support.

Indonesian Liverpool supporters hold scarves during a friendly soccer match between Liverpool FC and the Indonesian national team in Jakarta

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Pasoepati, the supporter group of Persis Solo in Indonesia’s second division – the curiously named Divisi Utama (Main League) – have several main chants which they also churn out during important moments in the football game, but, also during the quiet moments of play when nothing much is happening on the field. The anthem for Persis Solo is Satu Jiwa, or, ‘One Soul’, by a group called The Working Class Symphony who play a kind of folk punk. Like You’ll Never Walk Alone, Satu Jiwa, also implores steadfastness in the face of changing and difficult circumstances: “kita tetap satu, apapun yang terjadi”, that is, “we’ll stay together, whatever happens.” Satu Jiwa greets the players as they walk onto the field, just as You’ll Never Walk Alone greets the players at Anfield. These two songs weren’t written for the clubs, but, they have been appropriated into becoming their anthems.

The Pasoepati supporter group state that their aim is to provide a vibrant and lively atmosphere throughout the full 90minutes of each match. One of the chants that is sung is “Alap-Alap Samber Nyawa”, “alap-alap” indicating a sense of threatening, “Samber Nyawa” being the name of a famous prince from Solo and thus indicating their identity. But, the chant of “alap-alap samber nyawa” wouldn’t be sung if it weren’t for its combination of vowel sounds; it almost rhymes, it’s easy to chant. The subsequent lyrics don’t make much sense, too, but no matter: “fly us into the galaxy, you will surely shake the legend, [we are] Persis Surakarto (the old name for the city of Solo)”. And in between there is a big oooooohh—–wwooohhhhh. The chant is sung to the beating of drums. One doesn’t need to be able to sing; one only needs a gut full of energy and a heart full of passion for the team.

Pasoepati-2

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But a footy game is not a soccer match. Footy grounds differ from soccer stadiums. Footy crowds contrast with those of soccer. A footy game is much longer and the action is more easily dispersed across a bigger playing field. Arguably, one needs more concentration to watch a footy game than a soccer game. Or, perhaps, it is a different kind of attention that is required. Soccer crowds in England or Indonesia are overwhelmingly male, the footy crowds of Australia are much more diverse: a roughly equal number of men and women and of course many children in attendance. The unified macho chanting of You’ll Never Walk Alone, Satu Jiwa, or Alap-alap Samber Nyawa might be not so easily created at a Richmond home game. But, part of me thinks it is possible, to a degree.

Do we have songs to sing at games? Is there a pop ballad that we could appropriate as our own song? A song that we all know the lyrics to, that we can chant during a quarter to rouse our team? Can we write a 4 line chant in homage of our great coach, Tommy Hafey, in the manner that Liverpool fans have songs for their captain Steven Gerrard? Can we have another four line chant in ode to Matthew Richardson who gave us so much pleasure during the long years of hopelessness? (We don’t have success at the moment, but at least we have a degree of hope.) Me thinks we have it in us as a supporter group to come up with songs and chants which can show our passion for our team. Regardless of how our team performs off the field, us fans can devise ways of making the experience of watching the Tiges play more and more enjoyable. Players, coaches, administrators come and go. For 10, 20, 30,40, 50, 60 years – or longer – the fans stay loyal. The fans maketh the club.

tiger crowd

Andy 16/05/2014Filed Under: andy_14 Tagged With: Anfield, chants, crowd, fans, football, footy, Indonesia, Jakarta, Liverpool Football Club, Melbourne, Melbourne Victory, soccer, songs

Jakarta versus Footy

09/04/2014 By Andy 2 Comments

Durian juice

Durian juice

I wake up and turn on the footy. I know Deledio is not playing and this is odd. The young man had played a lot of games in a row; several seasons with barely an injury or dip in form. He is tall and slender: an athletic figure in the style of Chris Judd’s. Deledio has the swagger, self-confidence and looks of a great sportsman; yet, most of the time he has been very good and very consistent. For some this has not been enough. His absence from the team, however, perhaps will indicate his contribution sometimes missed by some critics.

I have slept through most of the first quarter, but, no matter. I see the Tiges are trailing and the Dogs are up and about. It’s too easy to blame it on the venue. The Richmond supporters are thin on the ground. The Docklands stadium is a couple of kilometres from the MCG, but far away in the Tiger’s fans imagination. The second quarter is a shambles and the goals fall in. The commentators are impressed with the pressure of the Dogs. Richmond fans see only a lack of interest from their team’s players. It seems like the days from not so long ago: the punishings from Collingwood, Sydney, Geelong, St.Kilda, Carlton, whoever. Chris Newman and Joel Bowden and others staring at each other as the ball sails, yet again, between the white poles. Today the half-time damage is hardly fatal: the ground is small, the surface is slick and the opposition are yet to have established their reputation.

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Nap time

Nap time

The next morning I wake up and it is six o’clock on a Sunday in central Jakarta. I step out from the hotel and onto Jalan Cikini. It is raining heavily. I am here for a small literary festival and I am going for my run. This should be the day of my long run, but, I know my body hasn’t adjusted to the heat and humidity, so, I will run for an hour only. A sluggish and short run is better than no run. I tell myself that I need to do it to maintain my rhythm and to feel that I am in Jakarta despite the brevity of this visit. A run to feel a part of a place.

The rain is heavier than it looked from the window on the fourth floor. I have just become a part of the rain and it feels unrelenting and as if it is spread uniformly across the Jakartan cityscape. But this is Sunday morning, car free day and I will be going back the next day. I have no time to think about how to spend my time; I must consume the city rapidly before I go back to the Soekarno-Hatta airport and back to Schipol. This is a pleasure I tell myself and it is for myself. I have time to run, time to be with my sense of what Jakarta is and to see how it moves on a slow, rainy Sunday morning.

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In search of lost books

In search of lost books

I run along the left side of the road. There is a pavement and it is a mixed bag of holes, missing bricks and rubbish bins. Occasionally, there are stretches of smooth, uninterrupted footpath. But the meters pass quickly, even on a slow run, and the road, even if it is slightly more dangerous in terms of passing cars, at least it offers a degree of consistency in terms of smoothness. The puddles, though disguise the holes and bumps in the road and I try to land at their edges.

I run past Bakoel Koffie cafe, Holland Bakery with its kitsch windmill, Vietopia Vietnamese restaurant and towards the Aryaduta Hotel standing behind the Tugu Tani. It was there that I watched Barak Obama’s mistake riddled inauguration from one of its floors. The man who had given countless unblinking speeches slipped up on a prescribed formality. This was a significant moment in history, the commentators repeated endlessly. ‘America’s first black president’. At the time, the Jakartan taxi drivers and many others spoke of their enthusiasm for Barak. He too knew Cikini, Menteng, after having lived and gone to school there as a child. When later gave a speech at the University of Indonesia, south of Jakarta, he said, to a rapturous applause, “pulang kampung nih”, “I’ve come home”.

I turn left and run past the former US embassy – looking like the leftovers of a military campaign – and towards Jalan Thamrin: the centre of Jakarta and the meeting point for many on car-free Sunday mornings. But, it is still early and the rain is putting off those who somewhat doubtful about whether to go out for their morning run, jog, bicycle ride, or to do their aerobics. I pass a couple of teenagers running in their basketball uniforms. There is a listlessness to their gait. I feel it too: the rain, the heat, the meals I’ve eaten which I wouldn’t have eaten were I at home. My eating patterns have been disturbed by the flights, the change in cooking oils. I have found some peanut butter and some thin, sugary bread as an attempt at my standard breakfast, but, it too proves slightly off what I was looking for.

Jl.Thamrin becomes Jl.Sudirman and Sudirman’s sculpture stands erect at the street’s starting point. A still, upright and authoritative body language. There is a rise in the road – it’s not a hill – but it’s a couple of hundred meters long and it goes upwards. I run past a stretch of five star hotels. There are runners in groups, wearing their club’s t-shirts, led by their coaches in their most-up-to-date gear. Cyclists too are in their essential lycra; chatting in Indonesian, English, Russian.

I return and run through the Monas park. Here, a different set of exercises are more common: those that are contained in squares, rectangles. Tai chi practitioners perform their slow movements with the gently undulating tunes of classical music. There are perhaps a dozen different groups: some with a few members, some with a couple of dozen. How things change: up until the late 1990s, public displays of Chinese culture were forbidden. The changes brought about by reformasi have made Chinese-ness increasingly consumable and comfortable for the Jakartan cityscape. Chinese New Year decorations adorn the malls, the Chinese New Year is celebrated as a national holiday. Others do line-dancing. There are small courts for football and basketball. Joggers do laps of the park on the brick paths which feel hard beneath one’s feet.

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The game ends and the Tiges are on 98 and the Dogs have the digits of one zero zero next to their name on the screen. Ah, that was frustrating, entertaining, disappointing. It was another footy game for the catalogue to be filed under ‘perhaps we really didn’t need to lose that one’, ‘lack of hunger in the first half cost us in the end’. The captain was brilliant all day and in the first half all others were hanging about somewhere in the background. The captain says a couple of days later that the team is yet to nut out how to stop other teams getting a run on. This kind of honesty is all a little unbecoming. “Well, nut it out would ya!” I feel like shouting at the screen.

This was a game of little sustenance to fans beyond the teams involved. The players played their roles – providing hope, frustration and pleasure in equal measure. The commentators got excited as usual. Another job that has trouble with honesty: so it is easy to say at the end of the Melbourne-GWS game: “well, that was a great game, it really opened up towards the end.” I found it to be a repeat but dressed-up performance of Glen Iris Gladiators under-12s versus Richmond Citizens circa 1988. Indeed, this game had no-Rioli moment of poise, balance, artistry: just Giansiracusa’s guile and Brandon Ellis’s rawness which led to the Tiges unnecessary defeat.

Brett Deledio is in a suit and hanging about the change rooms at half-time, looking out of place. Alex Rance is a guest in the commentary box – looking neat, handsome and smiling and staring straight into the camera – and he is sounding out of place. A 50meter goal from Deledio would have been welcome. Rance’s defending too, would have been welcome. But, they’re suited up, rather than bedecked in the Yellow and Black. That is the game, too. I turn it off knowing that I’ve seen a game: again I liked the new assertiveness of Griffiths, again I wondered if King’s reputation is doing all the talking rather than his playing. Brett, play next week, being in a suit during a Tige’s game, doesn’t become you.

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I leave Jakarta and come back to the brief anonymity of Schipol. The festival too, was like the football game and my run. Somewhere between being and becoming, frustration and realisation.

A civilised discussion between author and publisher

A civilised discussion between author and publisher

Andy 09/04/2014Filed Under: andy_14 Tagged With: Bulldogs, footy, Jakarta, running, Tigers

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