Soccer has the power to heal. I remind myself of this when I arrive at Subaru Park for my first Philadelphia Union game in over a year. The walk to the stadium is eerie and quiet and though the grounds are maintained, from a distance I have visions of the abandoned Brazilian and Russian Olympic venues years after the thrill of hosting came and went. There are no tailgaters in the parking lots, no kids passing a soccer ball in between cars, no smell of burgers on a charcoal grill or sound of beer bottles tossed into a trashcan, no lines for the Port-o-Potty, no selfies by the river, and no friends meeting by the Supporter’s gate to enter together, absent rituals that now signal that something is off.
Empty stadiums, wistful memories and reasoning with a pandemic-disrupted MLS season
