I enjoy flexing my creative muscles (some times more than others) by helping with my supporter group’s tifos. I often spend a lot of time creating and/or executing something that is sometimes seen for mere seconds – and sometimes only once. I personally like to try to bring in a variety of references: things that remind me of players, puns, pop culture, art, etc. My preference is to focus more on the soccer team we’re supporting versus the team we’re playing, but sometimes some light banter-generating content is fun too đ
It’s not always specifically about the team, though. For example, during Pride a few years ago, I knew through my work with the Riot board that we planned a full Pride-themed smoke release before the game started. I wanted to have something with a message attached to it to contribute, but not something as big as a tifo. I was worried about risking losing the message or overshadowing the display. I settled on a two stick design, with (literal) hand painted letters on top of a Progress Pride flag. I’ve mused previously on social media about the evolution of the words I used and how I ended up on them, going from leading with LET US… (a plea) to ultimately WE WILL THRIVE LOVE PLAY DREAM RIOT (a statement, that no one’s permission was required for these acts). As much as I am fond of the other designs I’ve made, that one is the most weighty and substantive for me. Seeing it flying that day in the Riot section among the smoke, as well as at other games and tailgates since, always fills me with emotion:
Bringing me to where we find ourselves in 2025. June is a few short weeks away from now. Some have suggested recently or outright said the Riot seems “too focused” on messaging around Pride. There’s a lot of strife – both internal and external – about whether this is or should be a priority. Our teams aren’t even officially holding a Pride Night this year. When it comes down to it, the Riot is a soccer supporters group, so why wade (or continue to wade) into “controversial” or seemingly “political” mattters?
Two reasons: first, soccer has always been political. Collective action is a proud and longstanding tradition in supporter group culture. (Books and essays have been written about this, and my musing would be less eloquent than those, so feel free to go look some history up for yourself.) Whether it’s pushing back to create safe spaces, protest injustice, or even force some reflection from the club they’re supporting, vocal allyship and advocation is seen across teams, leagues, and continents. Second: the existence of LGBTQ+ people shouldn’t be controversial. Full stop. I could expound further upon these points, but honestly, if you want to disagree with me on the internet, come find me on Bluesky. (Though, if you find these takes spicy, I don’t know that you necessarily want to venture over there.)
So we’ve established why I feel it’s important to show support. So now…what do “we” say? It’s a bleak and downright dangerous time for queer people. Words are often empty, and should be backed up with action – day in and day out. My bent for Pride messaging is often towards positivity or resilience. I will show my (proud) inner nerd here, but please stick with me, if you will:
There are a few tabletop role playing game shows I enjoy watching. For the sake of brevity (and-warning-spoilers here, if you think you may ever watch Dimension 20’s Fantasy High!), one of them has a romance between a main player character (played by someone at the table), Figeuroth “Fig” Faeth, and a nonplayer character (played by the dungeon master/game master), Ayda Aguefort: a half-phoenix wizard librarian who, during the events of the Junior High season, is timetraveling into the past with her human wizard dad (yes, really) Ayda writes a letter to Fig, delivered during one of the sessions via meteor storm (again: yes, really), that always gets me in my feels:
“I have sent these rocky chunks across the galaxy, and they have travelled since the beginning of time, to tell you that I love you. In each moment of our mutual ignorance, where we had yet to meet, this message was already spinning its way to you through time and space to illuminate the night sky to tell you: I love you. Us, our love, like time, has been inevitable and strange; I have walked in its shadow joyfully. It gives me peace to know that in my darkest moments, my love for you was already on its way, flying through the stars. We have been on our way to save us since before the lights of our world were first lit. Pretty cool, my darling paramour.“
What does this have to do with Pride and tifos and positivity? Besides being an example of a very beautiful queer love story, it’s a reminder of longevity. LGBTQ+ people have been living, loving, and fighting for rights and for each other – in this country and around the world – for decades. Last month, the UK Supreme Court ruled against trans people, and in favor of fear and hatred. The English FA (Football Association) has decided to ban trans participation in soccer at all levels. Trans kids here in the US who just want to play sports with their friends, one of the most American past-times, are actively being discriminated against, often to the detriment of not just their own lives but also generally women’s sports. It’s so easy to be overwhelmed by the enormity of the progress still to be made, and sometimes being actively unmade, seemingly everywhere.
And yet.
I have to believe that, as MLK said, “the moral arc of the universe is long, but bends towards justice.” I like to imagine, just as Ayda is sending her love letter into the ether, trusting it will reach her paramour, that every act of joy, and hope, and fight, and love made across the years by queer people and those that love them is making its way to the present and to the future. “We have been on our way to save us since before the lights of our world were first lit.” Even when things feel bleak, learning about the past and investing in the present and collective future is crucial. Being who we needed when we were young. Living lives that we never knew or hoped were possible.
If you’ll allow, another venture back into nerd life: the same game master who runs Fantasy High (shout out to Brennan Lee Mulligan1) ran another game in another world (Critical Role’s Exandria). Set in the day before an apocalyptic event in their world, the people who listened and watched those episodes knew that the characters were likely doomed, even before it started. How it ended, however (again kind of spoilers!) was a lot more complex and beautiful. In his post-script to the story, Brennan talked about the power of stories:
“Why do we tell stories? To try to make sense of a world that can be terrifying and enormous. In Exandria, I don’t know that your story will long be known. I don’t know who will remain to tell it, but it did happen â and it did matter. And though the Calamity is here, because of you, it will not be here forever.”
Telling queer stories, sowing seeds of support and change and hope, is important. Showing that things can be different, even just for the length of a soccer game. Taking the concept of “other” and giving a face and name and personhood to that: no longer seeing LGBTQ+ people as some kind of nebulous “threat” but as real humans and families and people you stand shoulder to shoulder with-inhaling goal smoke and waving flags and chanting with in the stands. Maybe that could even at some point translate to seeing us outside of games, out in your community. Working alongside for change and equality and the betterment of our society. Because we will be.
Now to figure how to fit all of that on a two stick…
- You, sir, will never read these words, but they are yours all the same, and they mean a great deal to me. âŠī¸