Some count their blessings by years, for us it's by games. We vibrated, screamed, yelled, sung, moved, cried, sweated, booed, feasted, warred and resisted during 419 official Paris-SG games. Between January 30, 2002 and May 15, 2010, we went everywhere. From Lorient to Montpellier, Ujpest, Boavista, Derry, Chelsea, Moscow, Athens, Prague, Sochaux, Marseille, Monaco, St. Denis, Guingamp, Strasbourg, Brive, Bucharest and so on. By bus, train, J9, ferry, plane, hitchhike, car. All ways were employed.

Some called us "the vachettes", others the "Atks". We called ourselves "The group". It bears noting because this name was only for us. 4 at the beginning, we were more than 400 at the end. This is the story of a desire born while sitting on the gray staircase of the Parc des Princes. It was winter, cold. We lit candles and it all started. It was us. It was me. It was you. It was all of you. We were there, together, anonymous with atypical nicknames and hidden stories, lives and faces: Esprit, Gultra, Matou, Tagaz, Rulian, Totof149, Antoine, WTB, Gargus, Mimi, MacMastro, Jon, Guil92, Diego, El Barto, Vocer, Flutiste, Martin, Maël, Jumba, Arménien, Kirby, Sifoo, Titi, Sarah Croch, Naston, Chouchan, Amar, Sytchev, Masterjojo, Balise, Kiki, Pepito, 2ki, Anis, Puma, Billy, Harmonica, Mourad, Guil92, Mike, Seven, Camille Desmoulins, Thanou dit flèche puissante, Groken, Hooman, Marou, Mad Lyon, Ludo, Prass, Serviette, Rasta, Autiste, Quentin, Seb, Thibaut, Beubeu, Face de craie, Sebastino, Totor, Marco, Seb le pompier, Houssine, George, Troublemaker, Planta, Chabs, Artete, Plastic, ITK2000 and so many more.

The «vachettes» were also the Tricards, the DP Crew, the barrière, the biberons, the Paris Ski Gang, the Juniors, the FG, Rachid and his fan, pony, the Zone X, the banner Avril, Barry White’s tifo. Our universe. Our world. It’s really hard to explain what this journey was for us. Nothing was easy, especially in the end. The Parc des Princes can do that. Turn a passion into a priesthood. More than seven years after the official closing clap, we're still here. The link remains, it’s an eternal one. Couples were formed and gave birth to children, the most beautiful thing in the world. At each other’s weddings, the "Funky Group" is always there. Always. Not because we have to, but because it means something to be a brother of the stadium. In bus aisles, or fighting the cold at a gas station, waiting in a humid visitor’s stand, talking during endless meetings in “Paname's”pubs -where nothing gets done anyway- in all those places were born indelible feelings.

When people ask us to explain what we experienced, we often have little to say. You had to be there to understand. Some of us inked their bodies for the group -a tattoo is intimate. It was our secret garden. Our world. Our family. A well-rounded family, especially the Supras who were quickly labeled as "little brothers". It was a big and beautiful family. And like all families, we stick together. You had to be there to see the "Funky family" on the move, and our re-mixed songs called "But who stole Guil's underpants ?" to the tune of "L’orange du marchand" -, our trips with a dress code, Mourad left in the bathroom at a gas station, vomiting, smoking of magical stuff, the records on the forum then in Ganaderia, rows of asses, group pictures, flares, custom shoes to hide flares, drivers, gas stations where they dreaded our arrival en masse. So many memories. Almost too much for one life.

Seven years is both a short and a long time in one life. What is clear is that the group changed everything in our lives for good. Obviously, just like any love story, nothing was perfect. But it was still genuine, faithful, intense, exclusive and authentic. Just like us. A bunch of young fools in love with a club, a city and a stadium. We would come from Paname, the suburbs and even further away to get together around a common cause and live like there was no tomorrow. Student, unemployed, lawyer, baker, worker, teacher, firefighter, delivery man, black, white, arab, asian, we represented the great Paris, the real Paris. A life together that made us progress on a daily basis. To stand up for ourselves. To exist. Because we actually loved each other. And still do. Looking back, all we have lost could have filled us with anger but didn’t.

Granted, we would have loved to see Ibra, Neymar, Verratti, Pastore or Cavani play. But we still enjoyed Pauleta, Rothen, Kezman, Letizi, Reinaldo, Clement and Pichot. They were our soldiers. Our players. Our goats. We decided that the PSG belonged to us from a sentimental point of view. It was passional. It's still true today but from afar... All good stories end. Then, the memories take over.

For us, the light was turned off one evening in May 2010. We were filled with anger, because of a PSG-Montpellier game, and an even more terrible year. It was 7 years ago but feels like yesterday. Still, the group never really ceased to exist. Why would a human tide embarked on a barge to sail on the Seine, one evening in May 2012, if not to celebrate the ten years anniversary of a group with no official activity for the past three years? We were all there. Almost. Everything was the same. We always come. Almost. Because this group lived in us, through us and for us. And it will stay the same. In us, through us and for us. This group is us.

Mathieu Faure

Pensées à Esprit, Gultra, Matou, Tagaz, Rulian, Totof149, Antoine, WTB, Gargus, Mimi, MacMastro, Jon, Guil92, Diego, El Barto, Vocer, Flutiste, Martin, Maël, Jumba, Arménien, Kirby, Sifoo, Titi, Sarah Croch, Naston, Chouchan, Amar, Sytchev, Masterjojo, Balise, Kiki, Pepito, 2ki, Anis, Puma, Billy, Harmonica, Mourad, Mike, Seven, Camille Desmoulins, Thanou, Groken, Hooman, Marou, Mad Lyon, Ludo, Prass, Serviette, Rasta, Autiste, Quentin, Seb, Thibaut, Beubeu, Face de craie, Sebastino, Totor, Marco, Seb le pompier, Houssine, George, Troublemaker, Planta, Chabs, Artete, Plastic, ITK2000, Djomby, Yann, Papy, Bipbip, Amel, Jeremos, Jordan, Guinou, Totti, Erkania, Renard, Matt, Viston, Normality, Paulo, Boboche, Pascaloo, Ninina, Zest, Dixa, Ienien, Coca, MomoDu93, Sebastien Folin, Foukets, Karim, Dan, Joul, Pecu, Josh, Stan, Hadrien, Adeline, Bimbim, Simba, Hypermocho, Yanny, Tchèque, Hugo, Buscape, Aurélie, Rudy, Bisounours, Alexis, Roberto, Aurélien, Orks, Orphé, Fabrice, Sups, Petrolan, Iroquois, Yannick, Amaury, Chupa, Cerise, Adrien, Ben, mini Mastro, Blondinet et tous les autres.

Merci aux traducteur·trice·s: Cécile, Céline et Chris.