Now your ¡FUTURISMOS! have something indisputable in common with Le Grand Zidane: Playing under the stars suits us. Never mind that during a night game, thanks to the floodlights, the stars are every bit as visible as they are at noon. Atmosphere is felt rather than seen and for our first ever game outdoors -- which just so happened to be in the dead of night (we didn’t get underway until shortly after 10) -- the atmosphere was something just this side of Olympian with the anticipation of our celestial spectators.
¿Would your ¡FUTURISMOS! live up to the grandeur of the setting?
Considering Big Pete was home with Godley tending to their day-old child Li’l Godley Jr… ¿could we?
The answer isn’t “yes”… it’s “¡HELL YES!”
WELCOME BACK, PRETTY BOY BRAN~D. NOW BE SO KIND AS TO IMPREGNATE LI’L PETE.
After a one game hiatus Bran~D was back in action. Initially we assumed he returned because of his undying love of futbol and his ¡FUTURISMOS! A few minutes into the game he clarified where exactly he intended to place his afore mentioned love.
Bran~D was running back with his head up field and Li’l Pete was running up with her head up field. Neither saw the other (or so Bran~D claims) and the collided. Rather than let Li’l Pete tumble Bran~D decided to ride her to the ground. So he grabbed her around the waist and then as gently as he is able he guided her to the ground and mounted her.
After the game I inquired with the CSC Sports official as to whether this was the first recorded incident of a player attempting to impregnate another on the field during the game. She shook her head and said “futbol isn’t the other international language for nothin’.”
No word yet on how Li’l Pete and Bran~D are going to deal with custody of their futbol love child, but a name has been selected: Godley.
GOAL (8th minute) ¡F! 0 -- VRAS 1: THE MYSTERIOUS CASE OF THE OBLONG FOOTBALL
Everyone I’ve talked to about what happened here has a different story, which is the heart of any good mystery. Here’s what everyone agrees about.
VRAS had the ball and were bringing it up the middle of the field roughly 40-feet from our goal. A football americano rolled onto the pitch somewhere near the futbol. VRAS scored a moment later. There was a minor uproar as several ¡FUTURISMOS! descended upon the ref arguing the goal should be disallowed due to the football americano interference. The ref agreed but claimed that since he has already counted the goal he couldn’t take it back. I lodged a formal complaint with the CSC Sports official nearby and we continued the game under formal protest.
The question very much in doubt is to what extent that football americano actually influenced the play. Some say the football americano darn near touched the futbol. Others say it was nearby but not that close. Some claim they thought play had stopped for the ball to be cleared, others don’t. It may have been the case that the VRAS player who scored the goal actually shot because he thought play had stopped and just teed off for practice (like a basketball player shooting a three before heading to the bench after a timeout was called). At least some contingent of VRAS believed the goal should have been disallowed.
Such is the existential nature of futbol. ¿Did a ref really see Zidane headbutt that filthy Italian who got what was coming to him? ¿How could the ref had seen the Liverpool goal that knocked Chelsea out of the Champion’s League in 2005? ¿How safe would we be from Terrorists who want to feed our freedom to their atomic powered, cyborg-Communist children if Al Gore had pushed for a total Florida recount in 2000?
No one knows. But the goal stood and VRAS lead 1-0.
GOAL (16th minute) ¡F! 1 -- VRAS 1: ELLIOT WOULD LIKE FISH WITH THAT CHIP
The football americano goal lead didn’t last the half.
Elliot’s second goal of the season was reminiscent of his first, and both seemingly the result of Harry Potter-like interference. From roughly 20-feet out, dead center Elliot chipped the ball toward the goal with the VRAS keeper playing 10-feet out. She was caught hopelessly out of position and her only recourse was a prayer to Zeus. As the Fates would have it Zeus was busy contemplating the fate of the child he had recently conceived while disguised as Pretty Boy Bran~D and her prayer fell on preoccupied ears.
Elliot’s chip once again fell over the hand of helpless keeper and under the crossbar. The score was leveled and Elliot had netted his second beauty of the season.
HALF TIME ¡F! 1 -- VON RASCHKE ALL-STARS 1
Your ¡FUTURISMOS! played a beautiful first half. We switched back to a 3-3 formation and it worked wonders. It shored up our defense but didn’t slacken our attack. There was exactly one noteworthy defensive lapse – a two-on-none break for VRAS that Khan snuffed out with ease.
We did not have the ten-minute blues that plagued us the previous games. Our pace never wavered and -- Hera help us -- we even did a good job of getting the ball in from goal kicks and throw-ins (bugaboo areas for us in the past). We actually look something like a futbol team now.
Easily our best half of the season.
HASSLE DOING WHAT SHE DOES: MAKING PEOPLE WANT TO DESTROY HER
The 1-1 score stood until roughly the 40th minute (there are 48 in a game).
Hassle (Kristy Hoffman’s new, and I think permanent, nickname) is likely our most annoying player in the eyes of our opponents. She’s our most deft ball handler, often deploying a series of fakes and shifting her relation to the ball to get her defender out of position. She, along with Elliot, is also our most consistent hounder of opponents with the ball. Put together and I suspect she quickly garners a bad reputation with our opponents. A suspicion bore out by the fact that in three games she has already been flattened by an opposing man twice. The second flattening set up our second goal on the night.
Hassle had the ball just inside the VRAS box. A VRAS guy came steaming in from behind her. I don’t know if she had paused to deploy a fake or two, but whatever the case the VRAS guy misjudged something because he just ran through her. Imagine running full speed behind an unsuspecting person and all out Lawrence Taylor-style flying tackling them from behind. The kind of the thing where if you’re luck/un-lucky you might kill the person you’re tackling.
That’s what this looked like. The whole sideline gasped as she slammed to the ground and then immediately starting screeching at the ref. The CSC Sports official lady came over to calm us down assuring us it was under control.
The ref awarded us a penalty kick, and if ever a PK were deserved it was then.
GOAL (40th minute) ¡F! 2 -- VRAS 1: ELLIOT… ONCE AGAIN
Elliot took the penalty. He drilled the ball to the lower left corner. The VRAS keeper guessed correctly and blocked it, but she couldn’t control it. Elliot was on the ball in a flash and deposited it into the right corner over the prostrate keeper.
That’s all there is to say about that. Elliot’s second goal of the night and third of the season, accounting for all ¡FUTURISMOS! goals thus far this year.
EIGHT GIDDY AND EXCRUCIATING MINUTES
Elliot’s second goal gave your ¡FUTURISMOS! a 2-1 lead with under eight minutes to play. You can’t imagine the bewildering feeling that elicited on the sideline for the next seven minutes.
Every cleared ball was greeted with boisterous cheers. Every success, no matter how small, was serenaded with giddy, almost delirious applause: a good pass, hustling down an errant ball, just kicking the ball far away – all of it hailed with jubilant but frantic energy.
We were going to win this game. Our first ever outright win. VRAS hadn’t mounted a serious threat the entire second half. Your ¡FUTURISMOS! had played sound defense the entire game. The minutes dwindled.
Five minutes. Looking promising.
Four minutes. The end was within our grasp.
Three minutes. The end was sitting on the end of our middle finger.
Two minutes. A sure thing. Thoughts of a jubilant mobbing of the field dancing through our heads.
One minute. Absolutely in the bag.
GOAL (48th, and final, minute) ¡F! 2 -- VRAS 2: A SEEING EYE SNIPE IF EVER ONE WERE KICKED
In the last minute of the game (literally, I checked my watch) Zeus changed his mind. A VRAS guy had the ball roughly 25-feet out just off the left side of the goal. He found a sliver of an opening and took a shot aimed at the right goal post. It was an impossible angle, in traffic.
¿What can you say? Sometimes the Gods of futbol smile and apparently that guy had burned a whole goat and poured out a bottle of Champaign in offering earlier that night because his shot defied the odds and found that lower right corner.
The goal was not the result of either shabby defense or goal keeping. There was one itsy-bitsy window and that guy found it.
The ball was put in play but second later the final whistle blew.
Final score: ¡FUTURISMOS! 2 -- Von Raschke All-Stars 2
THE AGONY AND ECSTASY OF NON-DEFEAT
As a result of our draw with Von Raschke All-Stars your ¡FUTURISMOS! are in last place no longer. ¡We have rocketed into the 9th spot (second to last)! While we narrowly missed our first win by less than a minute what shouldn’t be overlooked was we played our best game ever.
From start to finish we looked like a little futbol club. This will sound stupid, but we looked for and then passed the ball to each other. We cleared the ball when we were trouble. We get people running to the goal on the wings when someone has the ball in the center. Someone is usually sneaking up the backside of the play to pounce on crosses or fumbled defensive exchanges.
We’re no longer a collection of people who like to play futbol. We’re like a little futbol club now. Our baby steps over the past season and a half became our first stride in game 4. I can only pray to Athena that she sees fit to guide us along as our first stride becomes a second and before we know it we’re off and running.
LI’L PETE AWARD
The winner this week is Hassle for her afore mentioned railroading leading to our penalty kick. It really did look like a fully-grown man running full speed and then spearing a child from behind. The most correct description would have to be “blown up.” It looked like that guy blew up Hassle.
In the words of Li’l Pete, “I’d let some guy blow me up multiple times a game just so long as it meant I’d score.”
Li’l Pete is one of our bona fide stars so she can phrase things however she wants.
FAUSTIAN MOMENT
In the absence of a clear Faustian Moment this week I’m going to relate a personal one.
Coming into Lady Season Death Strikers I was clearly the worst person on the team and I didn’t see that changing anytime soon. Back when the ¡FUTURISMOS! were formed nearly a year ago I started out at about the same level as several other people who hadn’t played futbol since elementary school or ever. Whereas they’ve all improved greatly I hadn’t at all.
My touch was atrocious. I actually let the ball go under my foot and out of bounds on a couple of occasions. Worse, I had no feel for the game. No matter what the situation I’d have to think about what I was supposed to do before doing it. Of course by the time I figured it out the play was over and I was left standing there looking stupid.
So I seriously contemplated quitting the team before the season or perhaps relegating myself to a non-playing manager roll. Rather than making it a formal thing I reckoned I’d just sort of repeat what happened last year and make myself the last person on the bench only playing when absolutely necessary.
Once again, never question the Fates.
Turns out our men’s bench is considerably shorter this year so hiding on it wasn’t an option and over the course of this season I’ve actually improved a little. I still get caught thinking now and then, but most of the time I react to a situation rather than analyze it. My touch is still dreadful, but it’s something less than utterly pathetic now. All of this crystallized in my watershed moment.
I was playing right forward. We worked the ball up the left side and I was sneaking in on the weak side to receive a cross or take a crack at anything that got loose in the middle. The ball was passed to me about 15-feet in front the goal. I controlled the ball with my right foot but had a defender right in front of me. She was playing me to go to my right, which was absolutely the correct thing to do because I’m right footed.
With nowhere to go to my right, I flicked the ball with right foot back toward the middle and my left foot. I was jostling with the defender all the while and I’m even worse with my left foot than my right, but I managed to actually control the ball again and kick it in the general direction of the goal (albeit not terribly hard). I looked up to see the ball roll right into the arms of the keeper but had she not been there the ball would have actually gone into the net.
I had a shot on goal.
My first ever and I had to maneuver to take it… and with my left foot no less. All of it essentially without thinking.
It sounds so simple as to be dumb when you say it: you stop a rolling ball with your foot, the defender is playing you right, so you move left and kick a ball. Such is the nature of play. The more you think about it the dumber and more pointless it seems. That’s why children are so good at it and why adults are nearly incapable of it. Because children just know what’s important and adults have to think about it.
Play also happens to be on the very short list of what makes life worth living. That’s why I’m sure had Dr. Faust seen what I felt when I looked up to see the keeper calmly collecting my feeble shot he would have yelled “¡STOP!” at Lucifer and traded his soul right then and there.
¿Would your ¡FUTURISMOS! live up to the grandeur of the setting?
Considering Big Pete was home with Godley tending to their day-old child Li’l Godley Jr… ¿could we?
The answer isn’t “yes”… it’s “¡HELL YES!”
WELCOME BACK, PRETTY BOY BRAN~D. NOW BE SO KIND AS TO IMPREGNATE LI’L PETE.
After a one game hiatus Bran~D was back in action. Initially we assumed he returned because of his undying love of futbol and his ¡FUTURISMOS! A few minutes into the game he clarified where exactly he intended to place his afore mentioned love.
Bran~D was running back with his head up field and Li’l Pete was running up with her head up field. Neither saw the other (or so Bran~D claims) and the collided. Rather than let Li’l Pete tumble Bran~D decided to ride her to the ground. So he grabbed her around the waist and then as gently as he is able he guided her to the ground and mounted her.
After the game I inquired with the CSC Sports official as to whether this was the first recorded incident of a player attempting to impregnate another on the field during the game. She shook her head and said “futbol isn’t the other international language for nothin’.”
No word yet on how Li’l Pete and Bran~D are going to deal with custody of their futbol love child, but a name has been selected: Godley.
GOAL (8th minute) ¡F! 0 -- VRAS 1: THE MYSTERIOUS CASE OF THE OBLONG FOOTBALL
Everyone I’ve talked to about what happened here has a different story, which is the heart of any good mystery. Here’s what everyone agrees about.
VRAS had the ball and were bringing it up the middle of the field roughly 40-feet from our goal. A football americano rolled onto the pitch somewhere near the futbol. VRAS scored a moment later. There was a minor uproar as several ¡FUTURISMOS! descended upon the ref arguing the goal should be disallowed due to the football americano interference. The ref agreed but claimed that since he has already counted the goal he couldn’t take it back. I lodged a formal complaint with the CSC Sports official nearby and we continued the game under formal protest.
The question very much in doubt is to what extent that football americano actually influenced the play. Some say the football americano darn near touched the futbol. Others say it was nearby but not that close. Some claim they thought play had stopped for the ball to be cleared, others don’t. It may have been the case that the VRAS player who scored the goal actually shot because he thought play had stopped and just teed off for practice (like a basketball player shooting a three before heading to the bench after a timeout was called). At least some contingent of VRAS believed the goal should have been disallowed.
Such is the existential nature of futbol. ¿Did a ref really see Zidane headbutt that filthy Italian who got what was coming to him? ¿How could the ref had seen the Liverpool goal that knocked Chelsea out of the Champion’s League in 2005? ¿How safe would we be from Terrorists who want to feed our freedom to their atomic powered, cyborg-Communist children if Al Gore had pushed for a total Florida recount in 2000?
No one knows. But the goal stood and VRAS lead 1-0.
GOAL (16th minute) ¡F! 1 -- VRAS 1: ELLIOT WOULD LIKE FISH WITH THAT CHIP
The football americano goal lead didn’t last the half.
Elliot’s second goal of the season was reminiscent of his first, and both seemingly the result of Harry Potter-like interference. From roughly 20-feet out, dead center Elliot chipped the ball toward the goal with the VRAS keeper playing 10-feet out. She was caught hopelessly out of position and her only recourse was a prayer to Zeus. As the Fates would have it Zeus was busy contemplating the fate of the child he had recently conceived while disguised as Pretty Boy Bran~D and her prayer fell on preoccupied ears.
Elliot’s chip once again fell over the hand of helpless keeper and under the crossbar. The score was leveled and Elliot had netted his second beauty of the season.
HALF TIME ¡F! 1 -- VON RASCHKE ALL-STARS 1
Your ¡FUTURISMOS! played a beautiful first half. We switched back to a 3-3 formation and it worked wonders. It shored up our defense but didn’t slacken our attack. There was exactly one noteworthy defensive lapse – a two-on-none break for VRAS that Khan snuffed out with ease.
We did not have the ten-minute blues that plagued us the previous games. Our pace never wavered and -- Hera help us -- we even did a good job of getting the ball in from goal kicks and throw-ins (bugaboo areas for us in the past). We actually look something like a futbol team now.
Easily our best half of the season.
HASSLE DOING WHAT SHE DOES: MAKING PEOPLE WANT TO DESTROY HER
The 1-1 score stood until roughly the 40th minute (there are 48 in a game).
Hassle (Kristy Hoffman’s new, and I think permanent, nickname) is likely our most annoying player in the eyes of our opponents. She’s our most deft ball handler, often deploying a series of fakes and shifting her relation to the ball to get her defender out of position. She, along with Elliot, is also our most consistent hounder of opponents with the ball. Put together and I suspect she quickly garners a bad reputation with our opponents. A suspicion bore out by the fact that in three games she has already been flattened by an opposing man twice. The second flattening set up our second goal on the night.
Hassle had the ball just inside the VRAS box. A VRAS guy came steaming in from behind her. I don’t know if she had paused to deploy a fake or two, but whatever the case the VRAS guy misjudged something because he just ran through her. Imagine running full speed behind an unsuspecting person and all out Lawrence Taylor-style flying tackling them from behind. The kind of the thing where if you’re luck/un-lucky you might kill the person you’re tackling.
That’s what this looked like. The whole sideline gasped as she slammed to the ground and then immediately starting screeching at the ref. The CSC Sports official lady came over to calm us down assuring us it was under control.
The ref awarded us a penalty kick, and if ever a PK were deserved it was then.
GOAL (40th minute) ¡F! 2 -- VRAS 1: ELLIOT… ONCE AGAIN
Elliot took the penalty. He drilled the ball to the lower left corner. The VRAS keeper guessed correctly and blocked it, but she couldn’t control it. Elliot was on the ball in a flash and deposited it into the right corner over the prostrate keeper.
That’s all there is to say about that. Elliot’s second goal of the night and third of the season, accounting for all ¡FUTURISMOS! goals thus far this year.
EIGHT GIDDY AND EXCRUCIATING MINUTES
Elliot’s second goal gave your ¡FUTURISMOS! a 2-1 lead with under eight minutes to play. You can’t imagine the bewildering feeling that elicited on the sideline for the next seven minutes.
Every cleared ball was greeted with boisterous cheers. Every success, no matter how small, was serenaded with giddy, almost delirious applause: a good pass, hustling down an errant ball, just kicking the ball far away – all of it hailed with jubilant but frantic energy.
We were going to win this game. Our first ever outright win. VRAS hadn’t mounted a serious threat the entire second half. Your ¡FUTURISMOS! had played sound defense the entire game. The minutes dwindled.
Five minutes. Looking promising.Four minutes. The end was within our grasp.
Three minutes. The end was sitting on the end of our middle finger.
Two minutes. A sure thing. Thoughts of a jubilant mobbing of the field dancing through our heads.
One minute. Absolutely in the bag.
GOAL (48th, and final, minute) ¡F! 2 -- VRAS 2: A SEEING EYE SNIPE IF EVER ONE WERE KICKED
In the last minute of the game (literally, I checked my watch) Zeus changed his mind. A VRAS guy had the ball roughly 25-feet out just off the left side of the goal. He found a sliver of an opening and took a shot aimed at the right goal post. It was an impossible angle, in traffic.
¿What can you say? Sometimes the Gods of futbol smile and apparently that guy had burned a whole goat and poured out a bottle of Champaign in offering earlier that night because his shot defied the odds and found that lower right corner.
The goal was not the result of either shabby defense or goal keeping. There was one itsy-bitsy window and that guy found it.
The ball was put in play but second later the final whistle blew.
Final score: ¡FUTURISMOS! 2 -- Von Raschke All-Stars 2
THE AGONY AND ECSTASY OF NON-DEFEAT
As a result of our draw with Von Raschke All-Stars your ¡FUTURISMOS! are in last place no longer. ¡We have rocketed into the 9th spot (second to last)! While we narrowly missed our first win by less than a minute what shouldn’t be overlooked was we played our best game ever.
From start to finish we looked like a little futbol club. This will sound stupid, but we looked for and then passed the ball to each other. We cleared the ball when we were trouble. We get people running to the goal on the wings when someone has the ball in the center. Someone is usually sneaking up the backside of the play to pounce on crosses or fumbled defensive exchanges.
We’re no longer a collection of people who like to play futbol. We’re like a little futbol club now. Our baby steps over the past season and a half became our first stride in game 4. I can only pray to Athena that she sees fit to guide us along as our first stride becomes a second and before we know it we’re off and running.
LI’L PETE AWARD
The winner this week is Hassle for her afore mentioned railroading leading to our penalty kick. It really did look like a fully-grown man running full speed and then spearing a child from behind. The most correct description would have to be “blown up.” It looked like that guy blew up Hassle.
In the words of Li’l Pete, “I’d let some guy blow me up multiple times a game just so long as it meant I’d score.”
Li’l Pete is one of our bona fide stars so she can phrase things however she wants.
FAUSTIAN MOMENT
In the absence of a clear Faustian Moment this week I’m going to relate a personal one.
Coming into Lady Season Death Strikers I was clearly the worst person on the team and I didn’t see that changing anytime soon. Back when the ¡FUTURISMOS! were formed nearly a year ago I started out at about the same level as several other people who hadn’t played futbol since elementary school or ever. Whereas they’ve all improved greatly I hadn’t at all.
My touch was atrocious. I actually let the ball go under my foot and out of bounds on a couple of occasions. Worse, I had no feel for the game. No matter what the situation I’d have to think about what I was supposed to do before doing it. Of course by the time I figured it out the play was over and I was left standing there looking stupid.
So I seriously contemplated quitting the team before the season or perhaps relegating myself to a non-playing manager roll. Rather than making it a formal thing I reckoned I’d just sort of repeat what happened last year and make myself the last person on the bench only playing when absolutely necessary.
Once again, never question the Fates.
Turns out our men’s bench is considerably shorter this year so hiding on it wasn’t an option and over the course of this season I’ve actually improved a little. I still get caught thinking now and then, but most of the time I react to a situation rather than analyze it. My touch is still dreadful, but it’s something less than utterly pathetic now. All of this crystallized in my watershed moment.
I was playing right forward. We worked the ball up the left side and I was sneaking in on the weak side to receive a cross or take a crack at anything that got loose in the middle. The ball was passed to me about 15-feet in front the goal. I controlled the ball with my right foot but had a defender right in front of me. She was playing me to go to my right, which was absolutely the correct thing to do because I’m right footed.
With nowhere to go to my right, I flicked the ball with right foot back toward the middle and my left foot. I was jostling with the defender all the while and I’m even worse with my left foot than my right, but I managed to actually control the ball again and kick it in the general direction of the goal (albeit not terribly hard). I looked up to see the ball roll right into the arms of the keeper but had she not been there the ball would have actually gone into the net.
I had a shot on goal.
My first ever and I had to maneuver to take it… and with my left foot no less. All of it essentially without thinking.
It sounds so simple as to be dumb when you say it: you stop a rolling ball with your foot, the defender is playing you right, so you move left and kick a ball. Such is the nature of play. The more you think about it the dumber and more pointless it seems. That’s why children are so good at it and why adults are nearly incapable of it. Because children just know what’s important and adults have to think about it.
Play also happens to be on the very short list of what makes life worth living. That’s why I’m sure had Dr. Faust seen what I felt when I looked up to see the keeper calmly collecting my feeble shot he would have yelled “¡STOP!” at Lucifer and traded his soul right then and there.
No comments:
Post a Comment