First Match At Ibrox

As I write this, I am reminded of one of my favorite movies, Green Street Hooligans. For those of you who aren't familiar, it's the story of an American kid who goes to visit his sister in London and gets caught up in a supporters club, or "firm" connected with West Ham FC.

Now, to preface, my day did not include violence, skinheads, police, or overall debauchery, but what this does remin

d me of is the part of the movie where Matt Buckner, pl

ayed by Toby McGuire, is found to be journaling about his experiences, a big no no in that culture. Again, there is no top secret information being

disseminated here, but the parallels are somewhat striking.

So I woke up around 10AM, did my usual morning routine--pulled on my jersey and scarf and started walking. For the past couple weeks--or months actually--I've been corresponding with the President of the Edinburgh Rangers Fans Association, a group of fans who travel to pretty much every match on a chartered bus. The meeting place for the bus, however, was in a part of Edinburgh that I had never been to before. So I sloshed along in the rain, along the course that I had previously plotted on Google Maps. I did have to ask directions a couple times--yes, men can do that without losing their manhood--and after about 40 minutes, finally found Haymarket Terrace.

I got on the bus, a double decker packed to the rafters with fans. Right off the bat, Unioni

st tunes were blasted over the loud speakers--everything that makes Rangers fans im/famous as well as legendary. The leader of the group, Scott, took me under his wing, which was really nice. He wasn't that old, but the fact that someone cared enough to take me through the paces was rather comforting. Being an American fan of a Scottish club takes a lot of work and preparation, and while talking about the team is hard enough, knowing what to actually do on a game day is a whole other matter.

So we get to Glasgow, on the route that I had known previously from the summer. We got off at a pub called The District--which turned out to be a real Rangers hotbed. It was packed to the rafters with red, white, and blue. Men with their pints and Ulster tattoos--right out of any

European football textbook. A bunch of us--I was by far the youngest--got some pints and sat and talked about the match ahead. Tennent's had never tasted so good.

Then it got to be about match time, and we walked towards the stadium. It felt like walking onto Yawkey way before a Sox game--vendors everywhere, fathers and sons donning the colors, chants and the whole bit. Seeing Ibrox in the winter, and in action was everything I could have hoped for. The only downside was that we cut it so close to kickoff that I didn't get to do much else other than get in and get out--maybe next time. Anyway, Rangers played poorly, and were only able to salvage a draw thanks to the spectacular play of 19 year old Andy Little, who scored the equalizing goal in about the 87th minute. I wasn't that happy, especially because I had dragged my friend David along (David is a friend I made in Ayr, way back in 2003. We've kept in touch ever since).

Now it's about 9PM, it took me a good 45 minutes to walk back to the bus--only getting lost once or twice. I've cooked dinner and now I'm simply able to savor the fact that I did it. I went to the home of my heroes, for what will hopefully not be the last time. Despite the fact that I am absolutely exhausted, it was an amazing day.