Phoenix Magazine June 2021

Why I Love Football – Erin Sullenberger Sometimes I feel utterly ungrateful for the thing that keeps me motivated every day. Some of my recent experiences along with social media have changed the scope of my appreciation towards this wonderful sport, and finally, I’d like to officially recognize exactly why I love football.

Last summer, I traveled to Germany with an exchange group, and I had the wonderful opportunity to play football with a team of German boys. To say that I had a good time would be a total understatement. As I ran by and passed to the players around me, I felt their love for the game. They were incredibly creative; they tried out different moves, different runs, and different shooting techniques. They played like no American I had ever seen before. They played with such love, such passion --- as if football was their whole world. They played with their hearts.

And since then, all I’ve wanted to do was go over to Europe to play professionally. If I ever have the chance to play with players like that again, I want to be able to feel the European love and passion for the game again.

I’ve traveled to Europe on a few occasions, but on my first trip, I experienced the immense passion that football has on these people. I was planning to attend a Bayern Munich quarter-final Champions league game against the Portuguese Benfica. The afternoon before the game, my father and I were getting some pizza in a small shop in center-city Munich when we came across a crowd of Benfica fans, singing and dancing. They traveled halfway across Europe for the team they love, and as I watched them scream and run around with such love fueling their every move, I couldn’t help but smile.

Additionally, I watched a short TV series called The English Game, and one of the most important ideas I took from the show was that football really does bring life to people. During the Industrial Revolution, lower-class people were forced to work in unbearable conditions, but the one thing that kept them motivated was being able to watch their hometown football team compete every Sunday. Football really was their life.

This morning, on Instagram, I scrolled across a video of a bunch of African children playing football barefoot in the mud. Perhaps if I were living in a third-world country without much going for me, I, too, would play in absolutely any condition. But sitting here, on a warm bed, in the United States of America, makes me wonder if I could ever demonstrate that much dedication to something. But watching these children playing from their hearts made me realize something. Oftentimes, I have bad games or I don’t train as well as I would have liked. Because of human nature, I make excuses, telling myself that there had to be a reason (outside of my laziness or carelessness) that I played poorly. But as I sit here watching these Africans play, I think to myself how lucky I am to live where I live, play where I play, and be who I am. In honor of those who don’t have proper opportunities to play football at their highest potential, it is my responsibility to never waste a moment of the game. I must be the best player that I can be, for 7