Too often, organisers think atmosphere is switched on when the lights go down or the teams walk out. In reality, the energy that electrifies stadiums, fan zones, and festival grounds is cultivated hours—sometimes days—before the event even starts.

Our research at Liverpool’s Anfield shows how atmosphere builds in stages. Hours before kick-off, nearby streets, pubs, and public transport become rehearsal spaces for shared rituals—fans singing, chatting, displaying colours, and sharing stories. These moments prime individuals emotionally, fostering a sense of unity that spills naturally into the venue.

The same applies to festivals and mega-events. Look at the Glastonbury Festival: the journey to the site, the campsite culture, the anticipation in queues—these seemingly peripheral experiences shape how people connect, behave, and engage once inside. If those early moments fall flat, the main event rarely recovers.

The takeaway? Atmosphere isn’t confined to formal programming. Organisers who engage with transport providers, local businesses, and public spaces to create safe, inclusive, and vibrant warm-up zones tap into a vital source of emotional energy. Ignore the build-up, and you risk walking into a venue full of people but empty of atmosphere.

At the heart of any electric atmosphere lies ritual—the repeated, symbolic acts that synchronise emotions and bring strangers together. These rituals can be spontaneous or formal, simple or elaborate, but their power to unify a crowd is undeniable.

Consider the iconic anthem You’ll Never Walk Alone at Anfield. It is not simply a song—it is a ritual that aligns thousands of fans emotionally, transforming them from isolated individuals into a connected, energised mass. The same is true for the New Zealand All Blacks’ haka or the collective chanting at music festivals. These moments of synchronised behaviour generate what sociologists call "emotional energy"—a contagious feeling of belonging and excitement.

Crucially, rituals are not always planned by organisers. Many emerge organically from fan culture over time. Attempts to impose artificial rituals—think forced sing-alongs or staged mid-match performances—often feel hollow, even embarrassing, as seen in numerous Premier League stadiums trying (and failing) to inject atmosphere with generic pop songs like Sweet Caroline.

The lesson for organisers is clear: successful atmosphere depends on recognising, nurturing, and sometimes co-creating rituals with the community—not engineering them from the top down. Fans must feel ownership of these moments for them to resonate authentically.

One of the most common mistakes in event design is assuming that atmosphere can be fast-tracked. You can’t. The electric energy associated with legendary venues or iconic festivals isn’t built overnight—it is the product of history, culture, and repeated, shared experiences.

Look at the contrasts. In established football grounds like Anfield or Old Trafford, atmosphere feels organic, rooted in decades of rituals, stories, and community participation. The smell of food in the streets, the songs passed down generations, the visual symbols—all create a sensory environment that feels real.

By contrast, new stadiums or emerging mega-events often struggle with atmosphere precisely because they lack this embedded culture. Saudi Arabia’s efforts to position itself as a global football hub illustrate this challenge. Despite world-class infrastructure, carefully curated symbols, and choreographed crowd displays, many observers describe the atmosphere as flat or inauthentic. Why? Because atmosphere cannot be bought—it must be lived, developed, and allowed to evolve over time.

This is not a critique of new events but a reminder of patience. Atmosphere grows when organisers invest in community, ritual, and fan ownership—when they stop forcing spectacle and start fostering belonging.

Too often, organisers treat attendees as passive consumers, there to watch, spend, and leave. But the research is unequivocal: the most memorable atmospheres arise when fans actively shape the experience themselves.

In football, fan groups create chants, banners, and rituals that transform games into shared, emotional spectacles. In festivals, attendees co-design atmosphere through costumes, campsite traditions, and spontaneous celebrations. Even in urban fan zones or public viewing areas, the energy stems not from elaborate staging but from people bringing their own traditions, behaviours, and creativity.

Crucially, attempts to impose atmosphere without this participation often fall flat. Sky Sports' failed experiments with scripted mid-game entertainment or the Tokyo Olympics' sterile, crowd-less venues during COVID-19 are stark reminders that atmosphere cannot be delivered—it must be co-created.

The solution is simple but strategic: organisers must step back, listen, and engage with core fan groups and local communities. Whether through consultation, providing space for rituals to emerge, or collaborating on pre-event activities, co-creation ensures atmosphere feels authentic, energising, and inclusive. Fans are not an audience to manage—they are the beating heart of the atmosphere you hope to create.

A common blind spot for organisers is assuming atmosphere starts and ends at the venue gates. In reality, the energy that defines an event is shaped across the entire destination—from transport hubs and public spaces to local bars, cafés, and streets.

Cities that host major events but fail to engage their wider environment often produce fragmented, underwhelming experiences. Empty stadium surroundings, disconnected public transport, or sterile fan zones drain energy rather than build it.

In contrast, Liverpool Football Club’s collaboration with local pubs and transport operators demonstrates how atmosphere becomes a seamless, city-wide journey. Fans’ experience starts hours before kick-off, with rituals in local spaces warming them up emotionally. By the time they reach the stadium, they are already connected, energised, and part of the shared narrative.

The same principle applies to mega-events. If Paris wants to recapture the Olympic buzz in 2024, it must think beyond venues. Partnering with local businesses, designing welcoming public spaces, and integrating fan activities city-wide can turn isolated events into a connected, immersive experience that extends atmosphere beyond ticket holders to residents and visitors alike.