In the endless quest for an explanation of football’s enduring and universal appeal, one aspect that is often overlooked is its aesthetic appeal: the elegance of its motions, the joy of its rhythms and its dance-like qualities. This is not to deny the game’s propensity for unscripted drama, its ambiguous relationship with violence or its role as the last bastion of tribalism. But ultimately, despite all the tedium and frustration, people watch football, in historian David Goldblatt’s words, “to capture singular moments of brilliance”. This facet of the game’s appeal has remained a constant since the time when the fast-paced athleticism, anarchy and grace of football first attracted the attention of ‘modern’ artists and captured the allegiances of working-class communities around the world.
Drawing on diverse examples from English, European and South American football, this article explores some of the linguistic, cultural and actual connections between the worlds of football and dance. It notes how journalists and writers have naturally drawn on the language of dance to aid their depictions of the silky skills and elegant movements of leading players; and how this metaphorical shorthand has been extended to encapsulate (accurately or not) whole styles and cultures of football. It argues that, despite the value that continues to be placed on athleticism and physical vigour, amongst its audience there has always been a deep appreciation of the game’s intrinsic beauty.
The Soviet composer Dmitry Shostakovich, one of the giants of twentieth-century classical music, famously described football as “the ballet of the masses”. In doing so, he was not merely coining a catchy epithet to adorn hipster T-shirts; he was celebrating the game’s aesthetic as well as its athletic qualities. Moreover, he was prepared to put his art where his mouth was. In 1930, when just 23 years old, he composed The Golden Age, a sports ballet whose pivotal ‘Football’ scene kicks off with a blast of an authentic referee’s whistle.
Shostakovich was no ‘plastic fan’. A season ticket holder, he would bunk off early from his teaching commitments at the Leningrad Conservatory to catch Dynamo or Zenit games. When composing in his summer dacha in the country he would walk or hitch a lift to the nearest station in order to catch a train to get to a match. Shostakovich knew many of the city’s famous players personally and on one occasion invited the entire Dynamo team for dinner at his house. He was also besotted with the rhythms and culture of football. According to a fellow composer, Rodion Shchedrin, Shostakovich “loved football … He was fascinated by the atmosphere of football matches: the noise of the spectators’ stand, the shouts of delight, frustration, jubilation”.