TIFO’s, the 12th man & A KID WHO LOVED ‘GAZZETTA FOOTBALL ITALIA’
The Supporters Section at LAFC’s BMO Stadium is at the North End. There are 3,252 seats in it. None of which are operational during matches. I’m not joking. Here’s a picture of how the seats are set-up….
Don’t even think of sitting during a match!
With the area holding 3,252 fans, the Official Supporter Group for LAFC is known as…yes, you’ve guessed it: The 3252 (pronounced ‘The 3.2.5.2’ or ‘The 32.52’) And if you add those numbers together, you get 12. The significance of that number? It represents the fans being ‘the 12th man.’
Genius!
Now here’s where it gets a little bit ‘The Judeans People Front’ vs ‘The People’s Front of Judea.’ Under the umbrella of The 3252, there are 9 official Supporters Groups. And these, collectively, make up The 3252. Take a look at my piece titled ‘THE DAY SON HEUNG-MIN FACETIMED ME’ for the list.
I’ve been going to LAFC matches since June 29th, 2025. A veteran, if you will. Since that glorious Summers eve when we fell to the ‘might’ of Vancouver Whitecaps, I have, in turn, fallen hook, line and sinker for this goddamn club and have gone on a fandom rampage like no other:
Sorting my Season Ticket for the 2026 campaign. Becoming a member of the aforementioned 3252 and one of the 9 splinter groups - TSG (Tigers Supporters Group). And most importantly, wrecking my wife’s head most evening’s with hugely important questions like:
Why is there such a lack of creativity in our midfield?
Is Denis Bouanga better than David Vela?
And why does David Martinez look like a kid who’s just been told there’s no Santa every time he walks out onto the pitch?
To which she calmly replies:
“Karl, I don’t fucking care. Pass me the salt.”
As the weeks have passed with me (and my wife, to be fair!) adjusting to this new found obsession, I have become more and more familiar with the workings of MLS’s greatest Supporters Group and what I will say is this:
They are very welcoming and, at the same time, do not, in any capacity, fuck around.
It is a machine so well oiled it is shocking they have not secured sponsorship from Jiffy Lube.
They are an organization so in tune with its members, they could take charge of a small to medium sized town - maybe a Santa Clarita. Most definitely a Simi Valley - and manage it with their eyes closed.
They’re a group so well organized, it could run the parents WhatsApp group for my kids TK class without Diane, the stay-at-home Mom with too much time on her hands, getting her Skims in a twist because no one told her it was ‘Stuffie Day’ on Wednesday.
This supporters group run things. And runs them very well.
So how did I become a member of such a prestigious organisation? What did I need to do to prove my worthiness? Meet some random dude dressed head-to-toe in Black and Gold down a back alley, exchange a predetermined phrase sent to me via a private Telegram channel followed by a complex handshake I had learned through a password protected Vimeo link after signing a waiver forfeiting my vital organs in the event of something happening to me 1) before my 65th birthday or 2) at an away game versus Carson (whichever came first)?
No.
I just had to logon onto www.the3252.net, hand over $70 and wait for my custom scarf, badge and keyring to arrive in the mail.
By the way, if I ever talk about how much money I’m pumping into this goddamn club and/or its affiliates, don’t mention it to the Mrs. I’m pretty sure she thinks it’s all free and is just revelling in the joy of having several evenings a month to herself at home while I go out with my “football friends to watch the match.” Whereas the reality is, I’ve most likely spent more money on LAFC merch in the last 3 and half months than I did in the 40 years I’ve been supporting Manchester United.
Anyway…
What have I learned since joining this Band of Brothers & Sisters?
With great membership, comes great responsibility.
Specifically, getting off my ‘tired by 6pm’ arse and participating in some of the initiatives the group is involved in. Which leads nicely into my first extra-curricular experience with them:
TIFO PREP!
Part of being a member of TSG is the distinct privilege of being added to their Slack account where everything and anything LAFC related is posted under a surprisingly large number of headings:
Away Days
Chants
Community Service (not what you think if you think like me!)
Events
General
Tailgate
Tickets
Watch Party
And “TIFO.”
Jesus, Diane would have a wet dream seeing how organised this group is. Although women don’t have wet dreams. Perhaps Diane has a penis? I don’t know. I’m not here to judge.
Moving on…
For those unfamiliar with what a TIFO is, here’s how Google describes it:
“A TIFO is a coordinated, choreographed visual display by sports fans. It is most often seen in a stadium's supporters' section and can include a variety of elements, such as giant banners, large flags, or a mosaic of coloured cards held up by thousands of people to create a unified image or message.”
One of the many TIFO’s The 3252 have created over the years.
WHO INVENTED IT?
The Italians of course! And its origins go as far back as the 1960’s. Although my first memory of seeing one was the mid 90’s when, on a Saturday morning before lining out for my hometown team Leixlip United, I’d sit down in the living-room with a bowl of Weetabix, throw on Channel 4 and settle in to watch Gazzetta Football Italia - a highlights show of the previous weeks Serie A action presented by James Richardson. This sudden influx of Italian football to Irish and British TV screens was brought about by the transfer of Paul Gascoigne from Spurs to Lazio. England’s troubled golden boy had fled his North London nest to the timeless grandeur of Rome. And the cameras weren’t too far behind.
Watching that show was always a tremendous source of inspiration. How could it not be? I went from watching Lee Hendrie, Warren Barton and Julian Dicks to Roberto Baggio, Alessandro Del Piero and the Holy Trinity of Dutch football Gullit, Rijkard and Van Basten!
When it came time to head off to my match, I’d leap off the couch itching to get on the pitch and tear down the left wing no matter how wet and bitterly cold a morning it was!
At that time there wasn’t a league in the world that could touch Serie A. Well, maybe the Dublin District School Boys League. But let’s not quibble over semantics. They were both excellent leagues in their own right. And we’re not here to compare.
What I’m saying is, Serie A was what the then Premiership - the now Premier League - aspired to be:
The best players in football were in Italy.
The best wages in football were in Italy.
The best haircuts in football were in Italy.
And I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of trepidation with every passing season that my hero, Ryan Giggs would be tempted by the lure of the Lira with a move to a Milan or a Juve. Turns out he was more tempted by the lure of his brothers Mrs. But that’s a discussion for another day.
Ryan Giggs. Great Player. Terrible Brother.
I loved watching Italian football. And the fans were so different to what I was used to seeing or hearing on BBC’s Match of the Day. They seemed a lot more…passionate. Italians more passionate than the English? Don’t be so ridiculous! And this passion seemed to leap off the terraces of the San Siro, through the TV screen and into my living room. The maniacal, guttural chants punctuated by the magnificent illumination of flares that emitted clouds so thick you could barely make out the sexy step-overs, the thunderous tackles or the flamboyant dives by these paper-thin warriors dripping in blood, sweat and ‘Eternity for Men.’
And sometimes, if the occasion called for it, all the above would be preceded by a magnificently elaborate display by the fans as the teams walked out onto the pitch.
The TIFO.
So what’s the significance of a TIFO? Well, it’s many things. It’s an expression of a club's identity. A show of loyalty. A form of psychological warfare. And an act of artistic expression. All in one giant piece of meticulously decorated art lovingly created by men and women with a religious-like devotion to their club. It represents the collective spirit of a fanbase. So, when Lucas, one of TSG’s hierarchy, put out the call in the Slack group asking for volunteers to help place one of the TIFO’s in the North End a few days before the home debut of Son Hueng-Min, I could not type “COUNT ME IN!!” fast enough…right after I texted the Mrs. to see if it was okay.
Thursday rolled around and I arrived at B-MO not really knowing what the hell I was going to be doing. But it wasn’t long until it was all made clear. I met Lucas in the carpark along with a couple of other members who explained proceedings and before I knew it, we were hauling a massive canvas bag out of the boot (trunk!) of a car and carrying it into the stadium. It was at this point I learned a very important part of TIFO etiquette:
The one rule about the TIFO is… You don’t talk about the TIFO.
It’s a kind of passive Fight Club where you substitute beating seven shades of shite out of someone for artistic expression. I was told in no uncertain terms that there is no posting pictures or videos before the event has taken place. There’s to be no talking about it to friends or family for fear of the surprise being ruined. Which is understandable. I mean, if my 6 year old got wind of it, you may as well cancel the entire thing. That shit would be all over the school yard before you could say:
“What the fuck is a K-POP Demon Hunter?”
And when it comes to the creation of a brand new TIFO? That is Pentagon level secrecy. Times and locations are on a strict need-to-know basis and only released last minute. You cannot under any circumstance share that information with anyone outside the community for fear of rival supporters arriving unannounced to sabotage the efforts. This is serious shit, lads. I’ve never been part of a covert military operation, but I imagine being part of a new TIFO design is similar to that of Seal Team 6 flying into Pakistan airspace under the cover of darkness to take out Bin-Laden. And frankly, I’m here for it!
As we walked through the stadium carrying this ridiculously long bag, a passer-by would have been forgiven if they thought it was a body-bag containing the remains of ex-England international and famed beanpole, Peter Crouch. But I was struck by how quiet it was. The stadium was in complete silence. Much like walking into a church on a morning where no service is scheduled. Just a few devoted parishioners kneeling in reverence to whatever God they believe in. And I couldn’t help but think; “This is cool.” Profound, I know. But it was. Knowing you’re one of only a handful of people there on a random Thursday helping put something together that will add so much to the atmosphere of an upcoming match is really fucking cool! I suddenly felt a sense of pride come over me.
Church on a non service day.
There were around 12 of us there on the day. One of whom I found out was what’s known as a ‘Capo’ - they’re the guys and gals who stand on platforms at the front of the North End. The conductors of a great orchestra, guiding the crowd through a hymnbook of chants and songs with the passion and precision of Gustavo Dudamel leading the LA Phil. These Capo’s so focused on the task at hand, they rarely turn to see what is happening on the pitch. Instead sneaking in cheeky glances at the big screen in the corner of the stand, all the while riling up the natives into frenzied chants like…
“DALE! DALE! DALE! BLACK & GOLD!”
I seemed to be surrounded by LAFC royalty. And I was more than privileged to be a new pawn in this particular court.
We finally got the TIFO laid out. It sat on the ground across the 3rd row from the front. All the kinks had been shaken out. We trialled how it would be pulled up the stand on the day, making sure no snags would scupper the smooth flow of its unfurling. The corners were then tied to the nearest rails for ease of access on Sunday. And that was that. I said my goodbyes to the gang, took a brief trip into the LAFC Store where I quickly realised I’d need to sell a kidney in order to buy a hat. My first contribution to this supporter lead community was complete. And as educational as it was enjoyable.
Match day and the fruits of our labour.
This whole supporter group experience with LAFC is new ground for me. I’ve never had it despite following football my entire life. As a 46 year old man, it’s not often you find a new group of people with whom you enjoy spending time with. At this age of middle-ness, it’s more common to settle for what you’ve got. Sinking into the familiarity of friends you’ve known for decades and the family you’ve created with the person mad enough to stay with you til death do you part. And that’s fine. But it’s really nice to happen upon something new that was totally unexpected. LAFC is that. And long may it last.