How religion shapes football fandom

People say Naples is “Italy’s loudest city”. Having visited much of the country, I can attest. However, besides being vibrant and manic, there is a central focus — a saint-like reverence for Diego Maradona. If noisy Naples was an orchestra, he would be the conductor. Just as the Bible tells us we are made in the image of God, Naples is every bit as crazy, beautiful and misunderstood as the footballing great it idolises. 

Of course, Naples is more than just pizza and football; it is home to more historic churches per square kilometre than almost any other city in Europe. Christianity has shaped the city since the first century, AD. Walk down almost any street and you will likely see Shrines to the Virgin Mary.

My time there and the ubiquitousness of Maradona made me reflect on my own religious education. Naturally, the Second Commandment, which warns against false idols, sprang to mind. Looking around Naples, I could not help but wonder whether the city had found a theological loophole — perhaps Maradona made a deal with God (his infamous World Cup goal against England was dubbed The Hand of God afterall). 

Thus remains an intriguing paradox; Naples is one of Europe’s most historically religious cities, and yet it is also perhaps the city most willing to elevate a footballer into something approaching a secular saint.

The answer may lie in the different ways Catholicism and Protestantism have understood the role of images. Catholicism has a long tradition of expressing devotion through iconography. In contrast Protestantism, particularly in its lower-Anglican and Puritan forms, developed a much greater suspicion of religious imagery. 

This distinction is perhaps made most obvious to us in the seventeenth century. 

Charles I’s fondness for pomp and religious symbolism led many critics to suspect he harboured Catholic sympathies (such suspicions were only compounded by his marriage to Henrietta Maria of France, a Catholic). In the eyes of Cromwell and his fellow Puritans, such grandeur looked dangerously Roman. The dispute was ostensibly theological, but it also reflected two competing visions of how devotion should be expressed in our everyday lives.

What sort of impact should we expect this to have on football fans four centuries on? Indeed, Europe has largely secularised. Football has become one of the few institutions capable of inspiring genuine collective passion and has, in many ways, taken the place of religion in people’s daily lives. There is a focus around loyalty, congregation and faith that certainly is comparable to Christianity. It makes sense then that football and how we follow it would be influenced by the religious traditions of the countries in which we live. 

Ironically, the English press has spent decades searching for saviours. David Beckham, Wayne Rooney, Marcus Rashford, Jude Bellingham; each has, at various points, been asked to suffer so we can reflect in their glory. Yet, in England, this adoration is seldom prolonged. The same pundits that elevate players frequently are just as eager to criticise and, eventually, dethrone them. 

Not all that long ago, Bellingham was presented as the future of English football; now his attitude and temperament are regular topics of debate. Rashford’s campaign against child poverty earned him admiration that transcended the game, accompanied by a mural in Manchester and a degree of public affection unusual for a footballer in England. Within a few seasons, questions were asked about his commitment, his performances and, inevitably, his character.

The English, by and large, are remarkably adept at creating heroes and remarkably reluctant to keep them on their pedestals. Granted, Maradona occupies a category of his own. Few players in history have commanded such admiration from their fans and derision from their foes. We have not seen an English Maradona — George Best (from Northern Ireland) is probably the closest we have come. However, while footballing greatness may provide the raw material for idolisation; culture helps determine the form that takes.

Liverpool offers an intriguing exception to the rest of the country. Historically one of England’s most Catholic cities, its football culture possesses a visual and devotional quality that feels distinct from much of the country. Murals dominate streets; giant banners depicting managers and players are unfurled across the Kop; figures such as Shankly, and the famous song You’ll Never Walk Alone by Gerry and the Pacemakers, occupy a place in the city’s imagination extending well beyond football. 

It would be foolish to claim that the club’s supporters are consciously recreating Catholic traditions on matchdays, but cultures don’t operate consciously. The habits of one age survive into another.

Religious traditions shape assumptions about authority, ritual, imagery and devotion, even after that faith itself declines

None of this proves that Naples venerates Maradona because it is Catholic, nor that England’s treatment of its footballers can be explained solely by Cromwellian tradition. Human societies are far too complicated for such neat conclusions. Yet cultures possess long memories. Religious traditions shape assumptions about authority, ritual, imagery and devotion, even after that faith itself declines.

Football, perhaps the closest thing modern Europe possesses to a common civic religion, provides an unusually revealing window into those inherited instincts. The object of devotion may have changed, but the manner in which devotion is expressed continues to resemble our faiths. If societies continue to reflect their religious roots, it should hardly surprise us that football cultures reflect the societies from which they emerge.

Football is a global game, as this World Cup (featuring more nations than any tournament in its near-century-long history) will no doubt demonstrate. Yet for all its universality, the way in which football is experienced in each culture remains unique. In an increasingly homogenised world, there is something rather comforting about that. Perhaps, as we tune in with our friends and family, this too is worth celebrating.