olé olé

on the misuse of a sporting tradition

Marching Orders

club america vs. portland timbers • locale: 45°31′17″N 122°41′30″W: Providence Park, Portland, Oregon

August 9, 2026 • 7.30pm PST

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It was already a bit of an odd atmoosphere, given the local team was listed as the away side, a necessary technicality in a competition such as this.

Leagues Cup, the MLS-regular-season-disrupting spectacle that is an inter-leagues tournament between MLS and Liga MX sides, has taken place entirely in the U.S. thus far, a feature the MX sides must both relish (to win when the odds are stacked against you in the way they are amidst three consecutive ‘away’ games in a foreign country, where even when you are listed as the home team you are not home, an almost cruel trick of words) and equally despise, being away from your own home and, likely, family for weeks at a time, which, admittedly, is probably not too far from their normal experience as professional footballers.

The attending body outside of the local supporters section in Providence Park, which makes up the eastern wrap of the park, was predominantly yellow with the famous Club America kits.

But Timbers Army, as always showed up in great numbers and held their own against the onslaught of the ‘home’ supportership.

But any lover of the game nestled in P.P. that night might have picked up on an Odd Occurrence, toward the end of the second half and into the second after half time.

It’s important to preface this Odd Occurrence with the state of the game at that point. Here is a very brief timeline of the big moments in the first half:

• 6′: Club America goal scored by #7 Brian Rodriguez; an awe-inspiring free-kick from well outside the box, maybe 30+ yards from goal. A special

• 20′: Portland Timbers goals scored by #99 Kristoffer Velde; Velde pounces on a mistake in distribution by Club America goal keeper, winning the ball high in the attacking third, driving into the box, beating two or three players and slotting the ball low into the net

Other than those two goals, there were two bookings, each team picking up a yellow.

Club America went on to win the game, scoring in the 63′ and 88′.

That said, I am not sure I could say that in the first half, either team was better. Both teams had their moments, whethered storms well, offered chances going forward and, overall, looked up for the game. I might describe the first half as quite even.

And it is here, in the first half, that I am focused because this is when the Odd Occurrence took place.

With the game even at a goal apiece, possession and chances not being controlled outright by either team, a certain chant began filtering through the ‘home’ (Club America) fans any time a Club America player got hold of the ball: olés.

Olé chants are of course not an Odd Occurrence at a football match. In fact they are very common.

For the uninitiated, the olé chant, which is nothing more than it sounds, the shouting of the word “Olé,” typically follows this pattern:

1. a team in total control of the game, with little to no chance of dropping a lead and losing, has the ball.
2. each time the ball is passed or moved along to another player, the fans of the team on top shout Olé.
3. the shouting of the Olé is heavily dependent on the state of the game and, in the moment of the chant, in the state of possession of the ball.

It wasn’t that the olé chant was heard in the stadium but when the chant was heard which was so bewildering.

I love the Olé chant, have been a part of a chorus of such celebratory howls myself many a time. But this aforementioned use, when drawn and not in any real control of the game, is a bastardization of the use of the chant.

It is now that I will happily be called a romantic, or perhaps a wimpish killjoy. But I would argue that overuse or misuse of rhetoric does nothing but weaken its very purpose: in the case of the Olé chant, to rub salt in the wound of your opponent while celbrating the achievements of your own side in being superior, both at, in the instance of the chant, keeping the ball, as well as ensuring a positive result.

That said, if the chant is being shouted and it isn’t to rub salt in the wounds of your opponent, who are on equal terms with your own side, meaning your own side have no achievement to celebrate, than what is the purpose of the chant? Is it solely to celebrate a string of completed passes, when a string of completed passes could lead to nothing more than a loss of possession at some other quadrant of the pitch?

I heard the chants each time a Club America player successfully completed a pass, watching as their team offered no threat other than keeping the ball, in no control over the game, and couldn’t help wondering if there was something that I was missing.

Was there an individual match-up that was at the center of attention? Was each pass actually worth much more in the count toward the club’s millionth pass ever completed?

Neither of these were the case; in the end it was a case of pretenders. No one chanting Olé at that point cared about the scoreline or about their team’s control over the game. Because if they did, they would have known that at that point there was nothing yet to cheer about.

Club America went on to win the game, 3-1, grabbing full control around the 70th minute, after they went up 2-1. There might have been Olés shouted during this period when they would have been expected, but the truth is, if there were, I don’t remember.