This story appeared in the L.A. Weekly newspaper April 7, 2005:

-----------------------------------

Until the recent media blitz, the only Chivas I knew was Regal — and that’s a Chivas I can’t afford.

Turns out that Chivas, when pronounced CHEE-vas, is also Spanish slang for goats and the name of the hugely popular soccer team from Guadalajara that has just debuted a new spinoff team, Chivas USA. They joined Major League Soccer after paying 26 million bucks with the intent of dominating the league. Imagine George Steinbrenner buying his way into Japanese baseball with a team named the Japanese Yankees. Same deal.

Saturday, my friend Doug and I were at the HomeDepotCenter in Carson for the historic first game. But it was actually the Chivas’ opposing team that we came to see. Doug, a huge soccer fan, is from Washington and is ardent about his hometown team, DC United.

Which is one of the reasons the promotion for Chivas USA gave me pause. Chivas owner Jorge Vergara wasn’t trying to woo guys like me when he declared in the Los Angeles Times Magazine, “It’s the Latins versus the Gringos. And we’re going to win.”

When he also stated, “We’re taking the U.S. back, little by little,” I became somewhat concerned. My friend Doug and I may be the two palest guys in L.A., and we would be sitting alone rooting for DC United, the so-called Gringo team.

The question in my mind wasn’t, would we be pummeled? It was, would the pummeling occur before, during or after the game? But I resigned myself to the idea, because, after all, isn’t that what being a soccer hooligan is all about?

On game day, however, no pummeling would occur, even though DC United beat Chivas USA, 2-0.

Mexican pride was present but not overwhelming. A small section outside the stands was turned into “Chivastown,” sort of a mock Mexican village with an exhibit dedicated to the history of the original Chivas team. There was traditional Mexican food, music and dancing. And I discovered that posole makes a dandy sports snack, especially when watching a mariachi halftime show.

The crowd wasn’t as intimidating as I had imagined. For one thing, with everyone wearing Chivas’ traditional red-and-white striped jerseys, the stadium looked like a giant TGI Friday’s convention.

Many were families simply enjoying a beautiful afternoon together. When Doug and I moronically screamed “DC United!” after a TV camera pointed at us, no one even bothered to douse us in beer.

Near the end of the game, I witnessed something quite surprising. The crowd started a spontaneous chant of “Chivas USA!” But the emphasis wasn’t on the “Chivas.” It was on the “USA.”

That’s when I learned a valuable lesson: It doesn’t matter what color our skin is. It doesn’t matter where we were born. When we go to sporting events in Carson, Anaheim, Pasadena or L.A., we are all Southern Californians. We all share the same great weather and pay too much for event parking. And we’re simply too laid-back to be soccer hooligans.

—Dog Davis

Chivas USA