Joe Bahr February 3, 2014 Welcome to The Blue Hell Intro: Hi, my name is Joe Bahr and this

is my audio narrative essay, titled Welcome to The Blue Hell I leaned back to the creak of the old wooden chair. Surrounded by white walls adorned with seashells, I was a fish out of water. Tonight I was supposed to be in a sea of blue, the Blue Hell. In place of the freedom of fresh, summer air and sardine-packed bleachers, I was chained to the rickety chair. Nonetheless, it was August 8th and I was left in a Hilton Head condos quaint kitchen. After a day full of bursting into every nearby bar only to be slapped back onto the street each time, the white walls brought back the blank stares I received every time I asked about Sporting Kansas City. The only comfort I felt came from the window back to Kansas City that sat on the glass table in front of me. But even that was not good enough. Looking through the window, I was a mere spectator, an outsider. Henry, on the other hand, was stationed in the heart of the Cauldron. He would live to tell the tale while I would forever be haunted by the missed opportunity. Despite being a lengthy six months, it seems as just yesterday that my friend Henry and I attended our first Sporting game. Soon after, we made the decision to purchase season tickets in the legendary Cauldron, the supporters section of the stadium commonly referred to as the Blue Hell. Prior to the start of the season, Henry and I made the trek to the Sporting Park loading docks. While there, we painted a banner of strikers CJ Sapong and Kei Kamara to be flown in the stadium.

We went on to learn chants and develop friendships with other supporters, meeting kids, adults, Hispanics, whites, blacks, and Asians alike. This was new to me, seeing people from every situation, and every neighborhood of Kansas City come together as one. One very special man we met that day was Hector Solorio. Hector, without a doubt is the heart and soul of the fans in Sporting Park. Since the founding of the team in 1996, he has attended countless matches at empty football stadiums and pathetic minor league baseball fields. The team was constantly on the brink of collapsing, yet Hector steadfastly remained loyal. Little did he know, he was sculpting the pillars of what would become the greatest fan base in Major League Soccer. Nowadays, he can be proud of his teams home stadium, Sporting Park. It is his job to bring the world-class venue to life, and it is from the Cauldron that he operates. Clad in a homemade headdress of Sporting Blue feathers, Hector marches into Sporting Park with a fervor for the team that is unmatched. It is this fervor that pumps the blood and adrenaline through each individual in Sporting Park leading to an atmosphere that has a life of its own. ... Still encircled by the white walls, the first half of the U.S. Open Cup Championship game came to a close. Over the course of the half, the window proved to be hazy, and I could scarcely observe the action, even when squinting. Even worse, the chants I so dearly loved to sacrifice my voice for were hardly noticeable. I decided to check my Twitter feed. Low and behold, the first tweet I found depicted a banner covering more than half of the 2000 Cauldron members. Coupled with an intricate design of a golden chalice surrounded by the words For the Glory of the

City, this banner evoked a sense of pride I had never felt towards my city. Henry and I went on to discuss the details of the first half over text, noting certain individuals play and general observations, just as we always did. Soon enough halftime ended. I returned to my window with my right leg now in a constant tremor. A few minutes in, I pulled out my phone and saw a video that captured Hector conducting his army of supporters. *CUE CHANT* The section was as alive as ever, and the organic atmosphere I so dearly treasured was at least audible. Out of the corner of my eye I came across the banner of Sapong and Kamara. I had seen it plenty of times at the games, but never before on camera. I cranked up the volume and could suddenly hear the chants in full voice, and decided to softly join in, slowly growing louder. The feelings of pride and collectivism came flowing back, and I could sense the pulse of the Cauldron. Suddenly I was back in KC, back in the stands swaying with the sea of blue and belting chants until my voice gave out. Just like that, my window had transformed into my lifeline. The white walls were gone and they took the silence with them. In an epic ending, Sporting won over Seattle in penalty kicks, making for one of the wildest games I had ever witnessed. How did I miss such a game! In all honesty I would have felt better if we had lost! Nonetheless, I would always have to cope with the heartbreak of missing an extraordinarily historic event. While we have both remained season ticket holders, Henry and I have been forced to miss games while away at school, making do with live Internet streams like I did in Hilton Head. Henry now attends the University of Virginia, however we

still text during every game. Thanks to the many tweets, photos, and videos that come from the Cauldron, we have both remained engaged in the team. These personal connections have helped us to understand that we are still very much members of the Cauldron family. Looking back, I may not have been in KC for the championship game; however, I was nonetheless a part of the spirit that helped propel our boys to the victory. This is a fact that no one can take away, and I give all credit to the lifeline that filled a white-walled kitchen with the spirit of Hector Solorio and the pulse of the Blue Hell.