We couldn’t have begged Zeus for a better stage upon which to receive our first victory. It was a beautiful evening. We started just before the sunset and finished under the stage lights of a field illuminated at night. It was warm and a steady wind blew from sideline to sideline. As such it seemed the Olympians themselves decided to plus-up the occasion; perhaps as a reward for amiably playing through a season-and-a-half of their capricious whims.
Initially it seemed even our opponent was hand selected by Artemis, the Gleeful Unicorns. What better combatants for a story book ending than magical creatures of times long gone against techno-magical beings from a time we may never reach.
Alas, Pan was at work when our opponents chose their name.
*We technically won our final game of last season by forfeit because our opponent didn’t show up.
THE GLEEFUL UNICORNS: WHEN IRONY ISN’T IRONIC
Stated flatly, the Gleeful Unicorns played without any detectible joy or a trace of magic. A more accurate name would have been something along the lines of the Angry Jerks. Not that all of them were angry or jerks, but the age old axiom about the ratio of good fruit to bad that spoils the lot applies here.
Case in point.
Late in the second half a Gleeful Unicorn guy was sprinting toward our goal with the ball. I.Madnle came streaking out of nowhere and stepped in front of the guy to boot the ball away, which he did sending the ball out of bounds. A collision ensued and the Unicorn guy crumpled to the ground, writhing in pain. No foul was called because it was a perfectly legal play.
Because the ball went out of the bounds play stopped. I.Madnle offered his hand to the downed Unicorn who took it without looking up at him. When the Unicorn saw it was the hand of his opponent he barked, “¡Get your hands off me! ¡I can get up myself!” and angrily yanked his hand away.
This is the height of poor sportsmanship. Even at the highest echelons of futbol -- being played by people paid outrageous sums of money whose existences depend on the outcomes of games -- opponents routinely help each other up. In fact, it is considered poor form NOT to offer a downed opponent your hand under those circumstances.
Before the game I wondered if the name Gleeful Unicorns was ironic. It was… or rather it is meant to be but its creators clearly don’t understand that we live in a post-ironic world. Due to an overdose of Gen-X hipsters wearing Spice Girls t-shirts in the ‘90’s (I wore mine earnestly -- honestly) the nature of irony was forced to evolve beyond simply stating something the opposite of the truth (most of those Gen-X hipsters really didn’t like the Spice Girls, ¿get it? it’s funny… on the other hand I actually did).
As such irony now exists in a kind of limbo where to be ironic a statement has to be incongruously true. Such that the initial reading of the statement would lead one to think you surely don’t like/want X (i.e. old fashioned irony), but you really do want/like X. For instance, yelling “Freebird” at a concert. Once upon a time that was ironic because the shouter didn’t really want the band to play “Freebird.” Oddly enough, it turns out “Freebird” is a perfect number for a band to riff off and because of its accelerated tempo in its final turn lends itself to a wild crescendo that nicely closes a show. A fact I experienced first hand thanks to Built to Spill.
When you’re a team of angry jerks, calling yourselves the Gleeful Unicorns is like calling a skinny person “fatty.” Whatever extent it conforms to the dictionary definition of “ironic” is trumped by its outdated lameness. Much like a bushel of lovely apples spoiled by a few foul ones who have confused themselves for likes of Zidane, Kaka, and Ronaldo but would fare now better against their kind than either you or I (and I don’t even know who you are).
THE GOAL EQUATION: WHEN DATA YEILDS RESULTS
The equation that predicts scoring in futbol has three variables: skill, luck, and number of opportunities. Ideally you’d have high numbers in all three, but any one can offset the others. The most important of the three factors is number of opportunities because it most directly reduces the need for high numbers in the other categories. If you can pour the ball into your opponents penalty box it doesn’t matter how uncoordinated your team is, get enough awkward flailings at the ball and it’ll start going into the net.
Last season we relied exclusively on skill (predominantly Little Johnny England getting the ball and doing a bunch of fancy stuff) and luck but generated precious few chances because we didn’t have a coordinated attack. This season from game one I saw we had flipped our equation in favor of number of chances.
With Hassle, Skywalker, and TB ranging on the sidelines with Elliot and Sohei in the middle, our attack became a coordinated one where the ball moved freely from the wings to the center and back. It’s harder to defend a ball on the move than person with the ball. It would only take time for the equation to start cranking out goals thanks to our dramatically increase number of chances. I had pegged game four -- the midpoint of the season -- for the equation to catch up with us.
It did. And in game 5 it continued to hum along.
GOAL (9th minute): ¡FUTURISMOS! 1 -- GLEEFUL UNICORNS 0
Skywalker brought the ball up the left wing. She made a move to get her defender out of position so she could center the ball where Elliot laid in wait. The ball got by him (perhaps because of deflection off a defender) and appeared to be bouncing out of harms way. But…
¡NAY!
For the warrior monk Sohei -- true to his instinctual, self-evident affirming Buddhist nature -- was backing up the play and put himself in the right place at the right time. [¿How did you know where to the ball would be? “¿How does the raindrop find the root of the Bodhi Tree?”] He swept in and with his first touch cranked his first goal of the season into the lower right corner.
GOAL (11th minute) ¡FUTURISMOS! 2 -- GLEEFUL UNICORNS 0
This time TB was streaking to the goal on the left side without a defender anywhere near him. I was filling the middle running with no defender near me. This was as sure a goal as there is. A two-on-none break.
The only problem was I was the one in middle and my touch is as supple as our President’s foreign policy is subtle. Compound that with I was so open that I had time-a-plenty to think of all of the ways I would screw this up when TB passed me the ball, and surely he was going to pass me the ball. He had to. The keeper was playing his approach and I was literally all by myself in the middle of the goal. A pass to me and I’d have the whole right side of the net to myself with time enough to drop to my hands and knees and nose the ball in (provided I hadn’t already kicked it over the goal, a distinct possibility).
Once again, the Fates had it their way (perhaps to protect me from myself).
TB decided to take matters into his own feet. He shot the ball just to the right of the keeper, who was sliding to the ground in an effort to stop it. The ball found its way through between the keeper’s arm and side before he had time to hit the ground to close that window. The ball momentarily disappeared in his garish (and seemingly fun heralding, alas) shirt and emerged with enough pace to find its way safely into the back of net.
TB’s first goal of the season.
Two goals. Two minutes. Two different ¡FUTURISMOS! The equation was cranking.
A NOTE ABOUT THE TEAM MOOD WITH A 2-0 LEAD
As you might imagine, leading 2-0 half way through the first half when you’ve never won a game has a particular feeling. But that feeling isn’t joy so much as dizziness. We knew there was a long way to go, so there wasn’t jubilant celebrating, but a 2-0 lead felt something like a lunar landing.
Lest we get ahead of ourselves, Hades narrowed the gap with the aid of Hermes.
GOAL ¡FUTURISMOS! 2 -- GLEEFUL UNICORNS 1
The Gleeful Unicorns first goal really was a thing of beauty.
They were awarded a free kick at midfield. The guy that took it lofted a perfect, shinning rainbow of a boot with a target 3-yards in front of our left goal post. Standing in wait in the pot-of-goal was one of the ungentlemanly Unicorn men. He out-leapt his defender and snapped a perfect header into the lower right corner of the goal.
Most of your ¡FUTURISMOS! clapped in appreciation of one heck of an effort. Then we experienced a curious sensation when we saw the un-gentlemanly goal-scoring unicorn run to the middle of the field stooped over with his index finger protruding from the middle of his head. This “unicorn celebration” should have been charming or at least fun. Instead it was sour because we’d already experience the antiquated irony of their team name.
The feeling was the opposite of watching Zidane headbutt Materazzi. While that filthy, lying, lowlife got what was coming to him and Zidane’s ejection didn’t effect the game’s outcome (penalties are just a protracted coin-flip), you still can’t cheer violent conduct no matter how satisfying. In the end the whole affair left you torn.
Watching a grown man prance like a unicorn should inspire joy. ¿But if he’s a jerk who minutes before nearly had his earring torn out as a result of foolishly attempting to head a waist-high ball that Bran~D was clearing and then huffed around and heatedly waved off an apology from Bran~D (who didn’t owe him one anyway and was just being sporting to offer)? Then the unicorn prancing has a different felling. Something more like perversion.
HALFTIME: ¡FUTURIMSOS! 2 -- GLEEFUL UNICORNS 1
Having a 2-1 lead at halftime when you’ve never won a game feels good. We were playing well and even though many of the Gleeful Unicorns were darn good with the ball they hadn’t mounted much of an attack. Again, there was no jubilation. Just good feelings made even better with the arrival of two C+M fans, Lisa “Dish” Carlson and Christine “Sherpa” Scherping.
I walked over to them to give them my camera so they could take pictures of the game. As soon as they saw the camera they started modeling. When I told them I was offering them the camera so they could take pictures of us -- the people actually doing something -- they both pouted. I took a couple pictures, they were placated and even returned the favor by taking some of us. Their shrieking exhortations and full-throated laughter was a welcome boost throughout the second half.
We went into the second half spirits high, cheered on by Dish and Sherpa and silently emboldened by Elliot’s fiancé and Skywalker’s roommate.
GOAL (28th minute): ¡FUTURISMOS! 2 -- GLEEFUL UNICORNS 2
It didn’t take long after halftime for the Gleeful Unicorns to make us all a queasy again with their unicorn celebration.
A Unicorn guy had the ball a little over midfield approaching our goal. I ran at him, he stopped and made like he was going to kick the ball. I leapt in the air in hopes of blocking it and he calmly didn’t kick the ball and ran with it into the middle of the field. I looked up to see him dancing with the ball a little more and was slow to run him down.
He moved back in my direction and I started at him but by then it was too late. He’d found an opening and fired from 15-ish yards out to the far post. Kahn made a good effort but it got past her and inside the post.
It was good goal and largely (if not exclusively) my fault for biting on that ball fake and then not hustling to make up for the gaff.
NERVOUS MAKING TIME
The Gleeful Unicorns were strong for the opening ten minutes of the second half. They didn’t have any crazy near misses or anything but they looked more likely than we to take the lead. It wasn’t that our attack petered out or our pace slackened. They were just playing well.
Sohei and I were standing next to each other on the sideline for much of this time. Before he ran on the field for TB he turned to me and said, “As sure as the tide goes out, it comes in.” A true Buddhist monk warrior even in the collectively turbulent mind-state as it appeared the game was slipping away.
GOAL (40th minute): ¡FUTURISMOS! 3 -- GLEEFUL UNICORNS 2
Thanks to the hustle of Hassle (I think) we earned a corner kick. Elliot was taking the corner and I distinctly remember looking up at him and thinking, “Why is he taking the kick? He should be in the box trying to score.” Turns out scoring was what he had in mind.
Elliot’s corner kick was actually an intentional shot on goal. Rather than lofting the ball into the box for a possible header, he kicked it low (about head high), hard, and bent it so it had a chance to curl into the goal. The keeper was caught off guard and even though he had the ball in his chest he couldn’t control it and lost it into the goal.
Elliot’s fourth goal of the season put your ¡FUTURISMOS! up again with roughly 8-minutes left to play.
GOAL DISALLOWED (44th minute)
TB nearly delivered the coup de grace a few minutes after Elliot put us up. The ball was loose 5 yards in front of the Gleeful Unicorns goal. TB had a defender in his face and the ball a few feet to his right. He lashed out and struck a marvelous shot around his defender that ended up in the right corner of the net.
Unfortunately in the course of the shot TB ended up falling down in order to reach the ball. In CSC Sports you cannot kick the ball while you’re on the ground or make any effort to slide to kick the ball. The ref ruled TB’s shot a slide and waved off the goal.
A close call for sure but in any event a wonderful effort by TB worthy of his second goal of the game even if it didn’t go down in the official score keeper’s tabulation.
THE FINAL MINUTES
Of course the final minutes took forever. But they were well under control without any truly nervous moments. In fact we controlled the ball for much of it and even had some action down in front of their goal.
The final Gleeful Unicorn chance was snuffed out by Bran~D (or perhaps it was Elliot) who poked the ball away from a Unicorn just outside the penalty box on the end line and booted it out of bounds on the sideline. I glanced at my watch and knew this throw-in would be their last chance.
It was. Nothing came of it. The ref blew the whistle.
The game was over and we had won.
POST-GAMEWe did not go crazy. The only screeching was courtesy Dish and Sherpa. The smiles on the faces of your ¡FUTURISMOS! were big, dumb, and a little dazed. I hugged everyone. Li’l Pete poured water over my head.
There was joy. We had a much higher degree of lingering on the sideline than we normally do. Far more people stuck around than usual and we went out for a celebratory drink afterward.
But mixed with joy was no small measure of grumbling about the Gleeful Unicorns.
IT’S NEITHER ABOUT WINNING/LOOSING NOR HOW YOU PLAYED THE GAME
It’s about whether you’re a jerk or not.
Playing against jerks is not fun. Beating them isn’t really fun either. You know they don’t learn anything as a result of the defeat so conversely any joy you feel from beating them is like reveling in the defeat of night by the dawn.
For those of you who think “they’re just competing hard” that’s rubbish. No one competes harder than I.Madnle, he borders on deranged, and there is no trace of jerk in him. There is absolutely nothing inherent in the game that requires someone to be a jerk.
We’re all playing futbol because we like it. We aren’t getting paid for it. We don’t get some hard, tangible thing from it. Playing futbol should be something we all have in common and can revel in together even when we’re playing against each other. Indeed, we should be reveling in it precisely because we ARE playing against each other as that’s when the game is most fun.
But there’s nothing fun about a jerk. They are to joy what a black hole is to light.
LI’L PETE AWARD
Giving it to Hassle is getting a little ridiculous because getting decked is just part of her game. Once again on a variety of occasions Hassle was found splayed out on the pitch thanks to a shove or tangled feet. And it just didn't matter for the next instant she was back it... and getting decked again moments latter.
That's the Li'l Pete spirit.
SPECIAL ACCOMIDATION: I.MADNLE
I didn’t think it possible for I.Madnle to play with more enthusiasm than he normally does. Once again, never underestimate I.Madnle. He was all over the place both on the pitch and with his cheering. Hassle credits him with lifting her spirits at one point as his “¡Let’s Go Blue!” cut through a stiff wind and exhorted her onward when she was ready to let down.
His personal highlight was the afore mentioned dispossession of the ball from the attacking Unicorn that resulted in the shocking display of poor sportsmanship. Not far behind was free kick he took from midfield near the sideline. Without a thought he fired it at the goal -- a ridiculously distant attempt. For just a moment it looked like the keeper had misjudged the ball and it was going to bounce over his head for a goal. In that moment it looked like I.Madnle was going to have a perfect game.
Instead he’ll have to settle for a merely brilliant one.
FAN UPDATE: A STUNNING TURNOUT -- DISH & SHERPA
Not only did we get our first win but we had our first ever instance of multiple C+M comrades attending. As I mentioned earlier, at half time Lisa “Dish” Carlson and Christine “Sherpa” Scherping arrived. Their presence, cheers, and looking up to see them taking pictures of themselves made all the difference.
That raises the C+M fan season total to a staggering 4.
Along with Skywalker’s roommate and Elliot’s fiancé we had a right proper hoard behind us. You think it doesn’t make a difference, but it does.
FAUSTIAN MOMENT
Much to my chagrin it is my duty to report to you, dear ¡FUTURISMOS! fans, that there wasn’t a Faustian Moment in game 5. This has caused me a great deal of distress. ¿What is the point of this endeavor if not to liberate our spirits, if only for fleeting moments?
I talked to several ¡FUTURISMOS! the day after the game to see if any of them had a Faustian Moment. They all revolved around either winning or sticking it to a jerk Unicorn one way or another. This had Goethe spinning in the philosophical ether and Camus scrambling to assure him with a pickup game.
It isn’t that the game wasn’t fun; it was. And it isn’t that the game was without its moments of levity; it had them. It’s just that in the end it appears the game was about winning and sticking it to some jerks. Neither is valuable in and of itself. Neither could be further away from what Dr. Faust would trade his soul for.
Yes, I want to win. I even find myself getting caught up in thinking about winning streaks and that sort of thing, but I quickly admonish myself for it. I want to win because it’s preferable relative to its alternatives. But given the choice between:
Winning all of our games but doing so against the Gleeful Unicorns every week;
OR
Loosing every game but against opponents who recognize we are playing a game;
I don’t think there’s a choice.
I have no doubt some of you are guffawing or snorting at that thinking something along the lines of “pfffft… loser.” So in the venerable tradition of deferring to someone whose credentials are fancier than your own, I’m going to quote a passage from a source far more learned than I on the subject of futbol.
Eduardo Galeano is a Uruguayan stunted futboler turned journalist, historian, social critic, and futbol fan. He wrote, among other things, a transcendent book called El fútbol a sol y sombra (Soccer in Sun and Shadow), which is one of best things I’ve ever read regardless of subject matter. I quote from the section titled “Serious and in Series.”
“According to those who understand the root meaning of words, to play is to joke… To win without magic, without surprise or beauty, isn’t that worse than losing? In 1994, during the Spanish championship, Real Madrid was defeated by Sporting from Gijón. But the men of Real Madrid played with enthusiasm, a word that originally meant ‘having the gods within.’ The coach, Jorge Valdano, beamed at the players in the dressing room: ‘When you play like that,’ he told them, ‘it’s okay to lose.’”
SPECIAL ACCOMIDATION: I.MADNLE
I didn’t think it possible for I.Madnle to play with more enthusiasm than he normally does. Once again, never underestimate I.Madnle. He was all over the place both on the pitch and with his cheering. Hassle credits him with lifting her spirits at one point as his “¡Let’s Go Blue!” cut through a stiff wind and exhorted her onward when she was ready to let down.
His personal highlight was the afore mentioned dispossession of the ball from the attacking Unicorn that resulted in the shocking display of poor sportsmanship. Not far behind was free kick he took from midfield near the sideline. Without a thought he fired it at the goal -- a ridiculously distant attempt. For just a moment it looked like the keeper had misjudged the ball and it was going to bounce over his head for a goal. In that moment it looked like I.Madnle was going to have a perfect game.
Instead he’ll have to settle for a merely brilliant one.
FAN UPDATE: A STUNNING TURNOUT -- DISH & SHERPA
Not only did we get our first win but we had our first ever instance of multiple C+M comrades attending. As I mentioned earlier, at half time Lisa “Dish” Carlson and Christine “Sherpa” Scherping arrived. Their presence, cheers, and looking up to see them taking pictures of themselves made all the difference.
That raises the C+M fan season total to a staggering 4.
Along with Skywalker’s roommate and Elliot’s fiancé we had a right proper hoard behind us. You think it doesn’t make a difference, but it does.
FAUSTIAN MOMENT
Much to my chagrin it is my duty to report to you, dear ¡FUTURISMOS! fans, that there wasn’t a Faustian Moment in game 5. This has caused me a great deal of distress. ¿What is the point of this endeavor if not to liberate our spirits, if only for fleeting moments?
I talked to several ¡FUTURISMOS! the day after the game to see if any of them had a Faustian Moment. They all revolved around either winning or sticking it to a jerk Unicorn one way or another. This had Goethe spinning in the philosophical ether and Camus scrambling to assure him with a pickup game.
It isn’t that the game wasn’t fun; it was. And it isn’t that the game was without its moments of levity; it had them. It’s just that in the end it appears the game was about winning and sticking it to some jerks. Neither is valuable in and of itself. Neither could be further away from what Dr. Faust would trade his soul for.
Yes, I want to win. I even find myself getting caught up in thinking about winning streaks and that sort of thing, but I quickly admonish myself for it. I want to win because it’s preferable relative to its alternatives. But given the choice between:
Winning all of our games but doing so against the Gleeful Unicorns every week;
OR
Loosing every game but against opponents who recognize we are playing a game;
I don’t think there’s a choice.
I have no doubt some of you are guffawing or snorting at that thinking something along the lines of “pfffft… loser.” So in the venerable tradition of deferring to someone whose credentials are fancier than your own, I’m going to quote a passage from a source far more learned than I on the subject of futbol.
Eduardo Galeano is a Uruguayan stunted futboler turned journalist, historian, social critic, and futbol fan. He wrote, among other things, a transcendent book called El fútbol a sol y sombra (Soccer in Sun and Shadow), which is one of best things I’ve ever read regardless of subject matter. I quote from the section titled “Serious and in Series.”
“According to those who understand the root meaning of words, to play is to joke… To win without magic, without surprise or beauty, isn’t that worse than losing? In 1994, during the Spanish championship, Real Madrid was defeated by Sporting from Gijón. But the men of Real Madrid played with enthusiasm, a word that originally meant ‘having the gods within.’ The coach, Jorge Valdano, beamed at the players in the dressing room: ‘When you play like that,’ he told them, ‘it’s okay to lose.’”
4 comments:
Where's the picture of the triumphant captain?
Sorry, I had an issue posting my comment. And the times on this thing are screwed up.
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