Leadership & Judgment6 min read

You're Spanish Tonight

I didn't grow up around soccer in any meaningful way. I grew up in Michigan, in a town where football was everything. So when I ended up in Europe the summer after high school, I wasn't showing up as a fan.

By Spencer Blanchard

Published October 1, 2024

“Passion like that is shared. It builds. It spreads. It pulls you in before you realize what's happening.”

I didn't grow up around soccer in any meaningful way.

I grew up in Michigan, in a town where football was everything. We went to the state finals five years in a row. That was the standard. That's what people cared about.

Soccer existed, but it didn't carry weight.

So when I ended up in Europe the summer after high school, I wasn't showing up as a fan.

I had taken Spanish all through school, so I was spending time in Spain and France. And by coincidence more than planning, I landed there during the Euros—basically the World Cup, but just for European countries, which, over there, is a massive deal.

At first, we were just walking into bars because that's what there was to do.

And every time, the game was on.

Packed rooms. People standing on chairs. Yelling at the screen like it actually mattered.

We didn't fully get it yet, but you could feel that it did.

We kept watching as we moved from city to city.

Spain had this young team, and there was something about the way they played that pulled you in. Quick passes, constant movement—tiki-taka.

And then there were the players.

I remember buying a jersey somewhere along the way. A young right back who had just broken into the national team—Sergio Ramos.

At the time, he wasn't a legend. Just this aggressive, confident defender flying up and down the field next to Carles Puyol anchoring everything behind him.

I didn't know the full story. I didn't know what he'd become.

But it felt like I was catching something early.

Somewhere along the way, we stopped just watching.

We started planning nights around games. Cheering with people we didn't know. Talking about moments after.

City by city, it built.

By the time they made the final, I was in Madrid.

It didn't feel random.

It felt like we had followed them there.

That night, the city didn't feel normal.

There was a hum before kickoff. Streets filling up. People packed into bars. Red everywhere.

We found a spot just off one of the main roads. I was there with my best friends from high school. Jersey on.

Spain scores. Torres. 1–0.

I've never seen anything like what happened next.

The city didn't celebrate. It broke open.

People flooded the streets. Strangers grabbing each other. Climbing on anything they could find. Singing, yelling, flags everywhere.

There was no hesitation. No self-awareness.

Just full participation.

We made our way toward Plaza Mayor, getting pulled with the crowd more than walking ourselves.

At one point, a guy stops me, starts speaking rapid Spanish, smiling, grabs my shoulders, and kisses me on the cheek.

I laughed and said, "I'm not Spanish."

He looked at me for a second.

Then said, "You're Spanish tonight."

And he meant it.

I've thought about that line more than I expected to.

Because it explains something we usually get wrong.

We talk about passion like it's an individual trait. He's passionate. She really cares.

But that's not what that was.

I didn't show up passionate about Spanish soccer.

That happened to me.

Passion like that is shared.

It builds. It spreads. It pulls you in before you realize what's happening.

Bar by bar. Game by game. City by city.

Until one day someone can look at you and say, "You're part of this," and it feels true.

Years later, I saw the same thing again, this time from the outside.

I was in Mexico with my wife and her family, walking through the city, when people started running—actually running—toward this one man.

It wasn't like tourists spotting a celebrity.

There was something else in it. Gratitude.

Grown men sprinting. People emotional in a way you don't usually see in public.

I didn't recognize him at first.

Then it clicked.

He was the head coach of Argentina's national team.

They had just won the FIFA World Cup, led by Lionel Messi.

And here he was, just walking down a street in Mexico.

People weren't just excited to see him.

They were thanking him.

Like he had done something for them.

Which, in a way, he had.

That's when it really settled for me.

What I felt in Madrid wasn't unique.

It's what happens when people feel like they're part of something bigger than themselves.

When identity and shared experience line up.

When people are allowed to care—fully, visibly, without holding it back.

There's probably a version of this that turns into a business lesson.

This isn't that.

But I do think there's a question in it:

Where in your life do you actually feel part of something?

Not watching it. Not adjacent to it.

In it.

Because if you've felt it—even once—you know how powerful it is.

And how rare it can be.

Executive Summary

Key Takeaways & Executive Summary

TL;DR

True organizational passion is not an individual trait but a collective experience that builds momentum through shared identity and participation. When people feel they are genuinely part of something larger than themselves, they shed self-awareness and contribute with full commitment. I learned this lesson by witnessing how a city turned a group of strangers into fans during a championship run. Leaders must recognize that belonging is a byproduct of consistent, shared investment rather than a mandate from the top down.

Core Operating Takeaways

→Build culture through cumulative shared experience. Passion does not exist in a vacuum, but spreads when people commit to the process together over time. Like watching games bar by bar, building a team requires the constant, incremental participation that eventually creates a sense of belonging.
→Remove the barriers to full participation. People only invest deeply when they are allowed to care without self-consciousness or hesitation. When a team feels safe enough to be fully in, the collective output shifts from obligation to genuine ownership.
→Align identity with common purpose. A sense of belonging emerges when individual identity overlaps with the organization’s mission. I saw this in Madrid where the atmosphere made even an outsider feel like they were part of the victory, proving that purpose must be felt to be effective.

Questions & Answers

Q: How do you foster a sense of belonging in a team that feels like spectators?

You move them from the sidelines to the center of the action by creating recurring, high-stakes shared moments. I found that belonging is not a status you grant but a byproduct of collective experience, so you must provide the environment where people can feel like they are building the outcome together.

Q: Can you force passion within a workforce?

Passion cannot be coerced because it is a voluntary response to feeling part of something significant. My experience in Europe taught me that genuine commitment happens when you build a momentum that pulls people in naturally, rather than asking them to manufacture excitement for a cause they do not identify with.

Q: What is the primary indicator that a team has transitioned from working to belonging?

The transition happens when team members stop acting like detached observers and start taking personal ownership of the group's success. When people quit worrying about their individual roles and start acting with the full, uninhibited participation I saw in the streets of Madrid, you know they have fully bought in.