Carol Motsinger

cmotsinger@enquirer.com

It seemed like the safe bet a couple years ago, to wager against soccer going big-time in Cincinnati.

We already failed once. Twice.

Actually, three, four, five, six, seven, eight times total – in one form or another – since 1972. But that's not the math that matters here.

Not today, not in our ever-shrinking world that has long belonged to the Beautiful Game. Not today, when accessibility and authenticity carry the highest value. When being there first, being a part of a new beginning of something big is integral.

Not today, when the sports fan of tomorrow doesn't view sentimentality and pride of place as equal.

If you bet against Futbol Club Cincinnati, you don't know who we are anymore.

This city is coming of age. And we grew up playing soccer.

FCC is the right idea at the right time, in the right place and from the right people. And now, on the cusp of what's poised to be the club's biggest match yet against Crystal Palace FC, the question is why is it working? And what does it say about us?

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The success is a confluence of factors, both knowable and unknowable, engineered and organic. A lot are the things we can hold in our hands, see with our eyes. The rest might be magic, and a little luck.

Jeff Berding didn't just bet on soccer. The president and general manager left behind an almost 20-year career with the Cincinnati Bengals to launch the professional club last year.

"We knew we had a great soccer history, a passionate soccer fan base," he said. "And we thought that if we did things the right way, we had an exceptional opportunity to tap into that and build on that."

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Berding also credits the fans with, well, attracting all these fans. Like the 35,061 of them for Saturday's Crystal Palace friendly. That's more than the average Reds game this season.

"It's not just what we do on the field," Berding said. "It's the game experience."

He calls the influential followers the "maestros of Nippert Stadium." They are the members of Die Innenstadt (that's German for "city center") and The Pride, two independent FCC supporters' clubs.

Berding's description is spot-on for those who pack the five sections of the stadium, the home turf within the home turf called The Bailey. They expertly arrange and conduct the clapping, cheering, singing, drumming that echo through the stadium each home game.

Everybody everywhere

Lance McAlister, 700WLW/ESPN 1530 Sports talk host, describes it this way. It feels "like a happening." Or a "movement."

None of that is actually programmed by the front office. That's a far cry from Berding's NFL days when Jumbotrons led the charge for every first down.

Soccer doesn't have its version of a seventh-inning stretch, either, because there's no need for it. Unlike during often sluggish baseball games, that soccer ball and those supporters don't stop moving.

It's more than the style of play that's getting people excited right now. That hasn't really changed since 1972. But the players have.

This is a 21st-century kink. Soccer is not a man's game anymore. Almost as many girls as boys play the sport in the United States, with the number of girls increasing since 1995.

It's also truly global. With an estimated four percent of people on the planet playing, there is someone to cheer for who looks like each of us.

And today, we get to watch them all. English Premier League games air on NBC. Not to mention online streaming services for all the other ones. And then social media brings all of this and all of us together.

On June 12, all those things came together for Cincinnati in a single tweet. The world fit in 140 characters: A screengrab of a fan wearing FCC gear during a televised UEFA Euro 2016 match lit up social media locally.

Back at Nippert Stadium, the devoted drove makes sure the fandom feels decidedly local. The Bailey chants are chock full of Cincinnati inside jokes, like phrases from an old sports quiz show on WLW radio. Others are declarations of community pride, too, with a dash of playful self-deprecation.

With a few simple syllables, the supporters capture the spirit of a burgeoning side of the city.

It's a side of the city that's a bit younger, a lot snarkier. They'll embrace Cincinnati's quirks, beat other people to the punch line. And they are probably in Over-the-Rhine right now.

Chant sections lines like "Olé, olé, olé, olé, no one likes us, but that's okay" would be at home on a T-shirt at popular Cincinnati-centric apparel source Homage on Vine Street.

Fan group's chants are catchy and commercial-like slogans. That's on purpose. Anyone can learn them and they want everyone in the game.

Check out the fans sites. There are maps, lyrics, SoundCloud with the songs. It's a soccer fan starter kit. No assembly required.

The art of not engineering

Berding knows that he has to give the supporters room to be authentic, to do their own thing in his space. But what they do has to represent the city and club with respect and class.

This is where the right people and that right idea come to play.

Today's fan see right through engineered enthusiasm. For this to feel real, it has to actually be real.

MLS has learned that lesson already. More than 44,000 Seattle Sounders FC fans pack the NFL stadium there, that's almost 12,000 more than the average of the next most popular team in the league.

Why? The fan alliance possesses the power to vote on major team decisions, like the removal of the general manager. So along with season tickets, they have emotional and legitimate buy-in.

Berding aims for a similar buy-in in Cincinnati. Balanced, of course, with the club's needs.

Die Innenstadt founder Ryan Lammi and others like him want the same thing. That's one of the reasons the relationship works.

Lammi loves his hometown. His other major passion: Over-the-Rhine historic building preservation. But with FCC, he wanted to be a part of its next-big-thing for the city.

The Reds are on pace to have their worst record ever. So FCC's 11-game winning streak this season welcomed hometown fans wanting to believe in something. And want a break from worrying if the Bengals can finally, finally win a playoff game next year.

Even the mannequin outside of the Koch Sporting Goods on Fourth Street, the oldest store of its kind in the Queen City, switched teams. Normally decked out in Reds regalia this time of year, he's worn FCC gear most of the season.

But what's happening here isn't happening everywhere in the league.

No other venue could even handle it: Nippert's 40,000-person capacity is almost twice as big as the Harrison, New Jersey team's stadium, the next largest location in the United Soccer League. So it's no coincidence that Cincinnati is one of three places that Crystal Palace is playing in its North American pre-season tour.

But what is the difference? What's Cincinnati's edge?

The Queen wears Toms

It might just be the tangible proof that the Queen City is now a hipster. Think streetcar and start-ups. Think speciality doughnut shops and craft beer.

This is not your grandfather's Cincinnati and this is not your grandfather's game.

That said, family is still a part of what's happening. That's what Heather Mitts thinks.

She should know. She kicked her first soccer ball here. And now the Cincinnati native has three Olympic Gold medals.

Mitts is also part of the pioneering U.S. women's national team. In 1991, it became the first U.S. soccer organization, male or female, to win big internationally. And is still the powerhouse to beat going into the upcoming Rio Olympics.

Thanks to those champions, there's a generation that grew up at least knowing the rules, if not following on them, on the field.

Today, that generation is now the mothers and fathers who take their kids to Mitts soccer camp in Blue Ash. And with tickets as low a $10 a piece, some of those parents can afford soccer camp and take the whole family to an FCC match in a single weekend.

That's the other section of fandom that matters in the Nippert Stadium stands.

It's quieter than the boisterous Bailey types. No flags, no smoke, no facepaint. But they have to be a key part of the FCC fan community for the success is sustained. Proof that the next generation of Cincinnati sports fan just might grow up a soccer supporter.

During the bout against Bethlehem Steel FC July 2, a father sat near the sidelines, holding his young boy in his lap.

"Look at how he did that?" he says to his son, pointing to a player who just headed the ball. "That's what we were practicing the other day."

Nick Hagglund was that boy once. His father that father. He was his soccer coach here until he was a 10. Hagglund kept playing, notably with the team at Xavier University and now MLS team Toronto FC.

Sure, Cincinnati taught him the practical skills he needed for his career. But it taught him something else, something he thinks of often before he takes the field in front of the 20,000 fans who support his Canadian club.

It all starts with enjoying the sport, having a passion for it, he said.

A beginning built on pure, positive emotion? That's love. And no one wants that to end.

Reporter Paul Dehner Jr. contributed.