We Don’t Do That Here

NYCFC Fans Showed Up. Some Missed the Point.

There’s something I’ve been trying to wrap my head around since Tuesday night.

And I’ll be honest, I don’t quite get it.

Because in our short time doing this, we’ve crossed paths with supporters from all over. Different clubs, different cities, different vibes. And sure, there are always moments. A little back and forth. A disagreement here or there.

But for the most part? It’s been respectful. Competitive, yes. Passionate, absolutely. But grounded in the understanding that we’re all trying to build something here.

Grow the game. Grow the culture. Give people a reason to care.

Which is why Tuesday stood out.

Not all of it. Not even most of it. But enough.

Enough to notice a version of soccer culture that feels less about community and more about performance. Less about the place you’re in and more about the image you’re trying to project.

Flares. Damage. Posturing. The kind of stuff that feels pulled from a different time and a different place, dropped into a community that hasn’t asked for it.

And maybe that’s what I’m trying to understand.

Because here’s the part that makes it even stranger. A good portion of the people who built what we have with the 914th Infantry Supporters Group came from and still support NYCFC in one way or another.

There’s shared DNA here. Shared history. Shared love of the game.

Which makes the disconnect even more confusing.

And to be clear, this isn’t about everyone.

Far from it.

The players from New York City FC? Class. Full stop. Guys were coming over, saying hello at the tailgate, engaging with people like it was the most normal thing in the world. That matters.

Most of their supporters? Same story. Plenty of people made their way over, grabbed a drink, hung out, and were welcomed like anyone else. That’s how this is supposed to work.

And honestly, the atmosphere they brought? Credit where it’s due.

The drumming. The singing. The noise all night long. That’s the standard. That’s what a proper away end should feel like. We’re still building that. Half the time we’re just trying to keep a beat and not lose the drum entirely.

I love that part of it. I want more of that.

And yes, let’s be honest about the other side of it too. Nights like this bring attention. They bring new eyes. They bring money into the building. That matters for a young club trying to grow. We get the trade.

But it’s the little stuff.

The unnecessary stuff.

The things that don’t add to the atmosphere, don’t build anything, don’t make the experience better for anyone involved.

And to be clear, this isn’t about flares themselves. We pop smoke. It’s part of the atmosphere when it’s done right. But tossing them into dry brush on a street that’s only recently seen a major house fire? That’s not culture. That’s reckless. And it’s the kind of thing that can land a club like Westchester SC in real trouble for something they had nothing to do with.

That’s the part I can’t quite get behind.

And look, maybe I’m missing something.

If there’s someone closer to that side of it, someone who lives that culture and can explain it in a way that makes sense, I’m genuinely open to hearing it.

Not the highlight reel version.

Not the mythology.

The actual why.

Because I keep coming back to this.

We’ve seen rivalries before. Real ones. Petty ones. The kind that lived and breathed in this area long before any of this. You go back to the old Mayor’s Cup days and you had New York Yankees fans snatching New York Mets banners and Mets fans trying to walk out with Yankees pennants. It was heated. It was territorial. It was stupid in all the right ways.

But it was also mutual.

That’s the difference I can’t quite square.

Because what we saw Tuesday didn’t feel like that. It didn’t feel like two sides building something off each other. It felt like something else entirely. Something a little more performative. A little more one-sided.

And maybe that’s where the disconnect is.

Because there’s a big difference between a rivalry and punching down. Between shared hostility and imported theatrics.

So if there’s a perspective here I’m missing, I’m open to it.

But until then, I’m pretty comfortable with where we stand.

We’re building something here in Westchester. It’s not perfect. It’s not finished. But it’s real. It’s inclusive. It’s welcoming. It’s something people are choosing to be part of.

You can be loud. You can be passionate. You can be intense. You can sing for 90 minutes and lose your voice doing it.

But you don’t burn the place down.

You don’t trash someone else’s home.

You don’t confuse chaos with culture.

We don’t do that here.

And maybe I don’t have all the answers.

Maybe there’s context I’m missing. Maybe there’s a perspective I haven’t heard yet.

If there is, I’m open to it.

Sound off in the comments. Respectfully. I’d genuinely like to understand it better.

Because at the end of the day, we all say we want the same thing.

A game that grows. A culture that lasts. And something worth showing up for.