DAVID GREENE, HOST:
All news is bad news, right? I mean, it's a complaint you sometimes hear about journalism. Well, there are exceptions to that rule, and NPR's Philip Reeves has sent us a letter from London about one of them.
PHILIP REEVES, BYLINE: Something extraordinary is happening here. It started in a sports stadium in London on Saturday. A big crowd had gathered there to watch two English teams, Tottenham and Bolton, do battle in the quarter-finals of the FA Cup. The FA Cup goes back more than 100 years. It's England's favorite domestic soccer tournament - or football, as they call it here.
As the game began, the crowd was happy and excited. Millions were watching live on TV, including me. Everything was fine until a couple of minutes before halftime. Then, out of the blue, a Bolton player called Fabrice Muamba crumpled to the ground.
Muamba's 23. He originates from Congo in central Africa. Like every top-class footballer, Muamba's lean and incredibly fit. Yet he was suffering a cardiac arrest. Medics from both teams raced onto the field. Everyone quickly realized this young man was fighting for his life. The TV cameras respectfully panned away.
Football fans in England can be vile. They hurl obscenities at referees who upset them. They snarl and yell at rival fans. They no longer routinely howl racist abuse at black players, thanks to a big crack-down, but there are still alarming incidents. Nor do drunk English football hooligans often rampage through the streets, attacking everything and everyone in their path, as they used to, a few decades back. Yet they can still be pretty nasty.
On this Saturday afternoon, as Muamba lay there, apparently dying, they were very different. The crowd could see from the distress of the players that something horrible was happening out there on the field. A great hush fell. Then the crowd began chanting.
Fans who usually sing abusive songs about each other joined in unison: Muamba, Muamba, Muamba. While the medics tried again and again to fire up his heart, a multitude was collectively willing Muamba to stay alive.
It was two hours before Muamba's heart was beating again, unaided. By then he was in the hospital, the game had been abandoned, the crowd was quietly heading home, some in tears. Yet the multitude urging Muamba on carried on, growing. Twitter was flooded with goodwill tweets from across the world. As dusk fell, fans from different teams started to turn up outside Bolton's ground to leave messages of support written on their team shirts.
The English are overwhelmingly secular. Sometimes I wonder about this though. Many of those tweets simply said, pray for Muamba. In England, football's tribal. That's not always a bad thing. Football crowds these days often observe a minute's silence to honor the passing of one big sporting figure or another. At such moments, a stadium becomes an arena in which the fans collectively reveal their other side, their down-to-earth decency.
Fabrice Muamba is not a superstar. Before Saturday, many of us didn't know he came to England, aged 11, fleeing political upheaval in Africa. He spoke no English back then, yet he learnt quickly and soon amassed far more academic qualifications than most other British youngsters, let alone, footballers.
Today, a multitude is still tracking his condition. Latest news is Muamba remains in intensive care. But he is showing signs of improvement. The same could be said of England's football fans.
Philip Reeves, NPR News, London.
(SOUNDBITE OF MUSIC)
GREENE: This is NPR News.
NPR transcripts are created on a rush deadline by a contractor for NPR, and accuracy and availability may vary. This text may not be in its final form and may be updated or revised in the future. Please be aware that the authoritative record of NPR's programming is the audio.