This is important: we played this game without Li’l Pete. She was out of town on business. As I’ve mentioned before Li’l Pete is our Captain in Deed, on-pitch coach, and the bedrock of our defense. Last season if she wasn’t playing we weren’t defending. It isn’t like that anymore. I knew we’d be fine but that it would change the complexion of our play.
Complicating Li’l Pete’s absence, Kahn missed her first game as well. Without our fulltime keeper that meant Elliot would spend a whole game betwixt the timbers. This is good as it means we don’t miss a beat in the net but in the exchange we loose our leading scorer and pacesetter upfront.
Pace is unusually important in futbol due to the free flowing, unbroken (as in no timeouts) nature of the game. There are no “plays” like there are in basketball or football americano so you can’t really structure production. Nor can someone consistently dominate the ball and make things happen for themselves and others (that happens now and then but it’s the exception). The vast majority of one’s contributions on the pitch take place in open spaces off the ball: making a dash at the ball from a distance forcing the opponent to chang her/his mind; picking spots to make runs to stress the defense; finding opportune moments to dog a ball handler well beyond your normal sphere of responsibility. In these regards Elliot is our pacesetter. Our “Most Likely To Come Flying Out of Nowhere.”
Even with all of that in mind this game was perfect test of our progress this year. We opened the season against Glass Ceiling and played well in a 0-2 loss. Even without our best defender, starting keeper, and Elliot upfront I still thought we would play well and have as many chances as they did to win.
This was the case.
GOAL GS GUY (20TH min): ¡F! 0 — GS 1
The lone goal of the game was worthy of the distinction of its designation. Out of a scrum before our net a GS Guy ended up with the ball 25-feet away from the goal just beyond the right post. With what little space he had he fired a serious blast high toward the goal.
In the instant I had to process the visual information I assumed the ball would streak safely over the goal. He kicked it too hard at too acute an angle too close to the goal. More proof that what I don’t know would fill the new Wembley. The ball the bottom of the crossbar (perhaps even grazing the right upright) bounced straight down and with its spin skipped into the goal.
It was a shot the keeper, any keeper, would have been powerless to stop. It was kicked too hard and placed too well. Upon asking ¡FUTURISMOS! for their game recollections Skywalker confessed she should have deflected that shot. She was defending the GS Guy and his kick was a perfect shot at her nose. In the no time she had to make a decision she wisely chose facial self-preservation. Had we emerged from the game with a nil-nil draw and one broken nose to show for it I would have calmly suggested Skywalker duck next time.
In futbol, as in life, there are always laws superseding the ones you’re currently playing under.
OUR BEST FIRST HALF CHANCE
The Glass Ceiling keeper was a ringer. I’m not sure whether he is technically one of their teammates because he stuck around and kept for a team in the following game too. He’s the kind of keeper who routinely brings the ball out of the net himself and will advance it past midfield. Some people find this to be showboating. I don’t. It’s a risk and if you’re good enough to take it you should because there’s no law written or no that prohibits it.
Our best chance in the first half was a heart breaker. TB had the ball and a free run at the GS goal from 40-feet out on the right flank. As is TB’s style, he was flying. The GS keeper stepped out to stop him and guessed that TB was going to sneak the ball in on the right and went down to that side to smother the shot. (a good guess because that’s exactly what TB had done a few weeks earlier). ¡BUT he was snookered!
TB then calmly attempted to pick out the far left post. Alas, he missed it by a about a foot. An excellent run and a great chance from TB lacking only a brush from the wing of Hermes’ ankle.
OUR BEST SECOND HALF CHANCE
The ¡FUTURISMO! most deserving of a goal who doesn’t have one yet is Hassle. This is not a condemnation of her play. Quite the contrary. The most famous futboler in the world isn’t a goal scorer. Sir David Beckham’s specialty is facilitating the flow of the football from midfield to the scorers up front. Hassle has excelled at Sir Beckham’s specialty this year and for her efforts she was nearly rewarded a highly polished gem of goal.
After faking out two Glass Ceiling defenders on the left sideline deep in GS territory she had created enough space for herself to get off an attempt from 25-feet out well to the left of the goal. The GS keeper had positioned himself on the left side of the net to deal with Hassle’s approach leaving the right side of the net open. Placing the ball into the right side of the goal from that angle with the keeper playing where he was is an exceedingly difficult shot.
Hassle was up to the challenge.
She chipped the ball toward the upper right-hand corner of the GS goal. From the ball’s early flight it was clear it was going to be close something terrible. The keeper scrambled but was beaten. He dove but was nowhere near covering the exposed corner. It was, as it always is, in the hand of The Fates. Perhaps one of them sneezed (or forgot to sneeze) because the ball didn’t take a final dip to find the belly of the crossbar and instead ricocheted out of bounds.
Hassle squealed and skipped away both in agony over the miss and in ecstasy of the beauty of the effort. I’d say it was robbery, but all we have in this world is on loan anyway as the rightful property of Zeus and Company. They simply didn’t see fit to loan Hassle a goal in this instance. I have no doubt that will soon change.
THE ONLY SOUR NOTE
Late in the second half the GS Keeper had the ball after a shot on goal. He placed it on the ground. His teammates fanned out and positioned themselves as they would on a goal kick. We in turn did the same and prepared to defend the kick.
Then we all just stood there.
It was weird. The GS keeper didn’t kick the ball. He just stood there and in turn everyone just stood in place waiting for him to kick the ball. TB turned to the ref and asked her to implore the keeper to put the ball in play. She replied there was nothing she could do because it was a live ball. It wasn’t a goal kick. He had simply stopped a shot, stood up and dropped the ball to his feet. TB then pushed up to the keeper forcing him to put the ball in play.
What the GS keeper did wasn’t technically illegal but it was beyond doubt poor form. Earlier this year the English Premiership club Arsenal was down 0-1 to someone (let’s say it was Liverpool, it wasn’t Liverpool but they're a dreary lot so this sort of thing wouldn’t be a stretch for them). The Liverpool keeper over the course of the entire second half took his sweet, sweet time putting the ball in play. There isn’t a law mandating a specific time by which the keeper must put the ball in play (there are surprisingly few codified rules in futbol; 17 to be exact and most of them deal with the pitch, uniforms and equipment). It’s discretionary but he was definitely milking it and pushing the limits.
[As the by far and away most litigious society in the world we USAmericans attempt to codify everything right down to the number of seconds in which a person must shoot a free throw after receiving the ball from the official in a basketball game. It’s 10-seconds. There is no advantage in taking an eternity to shoot a free throw. As a matter of fact, as one of the simplest but most nerve racking actions in any sport there is a decided disadvantage to waiting too long because your brain will get in the way of your ability. ¿So why legislate it? Because we USAmericans abhor a legal vacuum. ¿How are we to know right from wrong if it isn’t written down somewhere? There is something disturbed about a society that produces far more lawyers than scientists.]
Arsenal tied the score at 1-all late in the game. Then shortly after scored again to take a 2-1 lead. Monsieur Thierry Henry—Frenchman, Arsenal striker, one of the Earth’s top futbolers and world renowned class act—ran into the net after the second goal, grabbed the ball and thrusted it into the beaten keeper’s chest to make a show of his time wasting tactics. The consensus opinion in the articles I read—and Soccernet's instant polling—about the incident was the keeper had it coming because he was a “time wasting @#*$” (the English papers are a little looser with what defines obscenity).
The GS Keeper with a 1-0 lead late in the game was wasting the clock in a decidedly unsporting fashion. Had Monsieur Henry been there he likely would have sprinted onto the field, dispossessed the keeper of the ball and then made a point of humiliating him by scoring at will to remind him that he ought mind the relative size of his britches. ¡AH, if only Monsieur Henry had been on hand!
FINAL WHISTLE: ¡F! 0 — GS 1
We played well, but not great by our own standards. We had our chances but were off half a step time and again. Sohei had a great chance but couldn’t get himself situated over the ball to get a good shot off. Big Pete (or maybe it was TB, they’re easily confused for one another) nearly had himself a gimmie when the GS keeper initially couldn’t handle a shot and was there to deposit the change in the goal machine (the keeper recovered). I had a header that the keeper actually had to save but I didn’t get any ompth on it… likely because I couldn’t believe I had put myself in position to have a header on goal… and then was stupefied that I had for honest and true managed to hit the ball with my head in such a fashion that it went toward the goal (seriously, I had to reminded this was a real occurrence the next day).
But all in all it was a highly enjoyable game and a tribute to the extent we've improved. Down two key players (who end up counting for three) and badly outnumbered (they're the only team I've seen with not only as many players as we have but several more) we more than held our own and feel by weight of a angle's breath. A good effort indeed.
FAUSTIAN MOMENT: FLIGHT OF THE I, MADNLE-BEE
I have to preface this Faustian Moment by telling you that I, Madnle has recently twice been sent off the pitch by Li’l Pete for allowing his competitive temper to reach a curdling point. Nothing like the cusp of fisticuffs, mind you, just getting carried away in the moment and responding a little too vociferously to an opponents’ questionable actions.
The glorious, borderline zany I, Madnle was back in action. The one who warranted a write up of his own a while back (“Ode to Mandle” w/o 4/29). As with a classic I, Madnle performance there were multiple moments for Dr. Faust to choose from.
The runner up moment went like this.
Hassle was on the sideline in ¡FUTURISMOS! territory with I, Madnle 6-feet behind backing her up. A GS player was bringing the ball up the line. Hassle dispossessed the GS person of the ball and it popped up behind her. Hassle reached out with her leg behind her to kick the ball away but ended up deflecting it to I, Madnle. With the ball about waste high I, Madnle decided to take a swipe at it rather than settling it on the ground. He wound up and booted that sucker… right into Hassle’s head. The ball went sailing out of bounds and it took Hassle a moment to get her wits about her.
Hand’s down the Faustian Moment was a majestic run I, Madnle made that was equal parts brilliant, joyous and deranged. [A third party observer, Spectra, called out this moment as her favorite of the game.]
I, Madnle took the ball on the right sideline about a quarter of the way up the field from our end line. ¿How do you get a gazelle to run? Set it free. I, Madnle was off. First up the sideline. At midfield he was cut off. To his left was more freedom, a wide-open pitch and he was off again. In the words of Spectra, “I didn’t look like he was running so much as skipping with the ball.”
Halfway across the pitch he slowed down. This was a long time for anyone to run with the ball. Once again the call of the open pitch beckoned. There was a long patch of unobstructed green down the left sideline all the way to the Glass Ceiling left corner.
Another thing about a gazelle, once freed you’ll never get it back.
He was off again. Bounding, skipping with ball down the left sideline all the way down to the Glass Ceiling left corner where the defense finally corner him and brought him down.
¿What happened after that?
I have no idea.
¿Was this run the smart futbol play?
I haven’t the faintest clue.
¿Did he miss any open teammates or chances to do something that might have lead to a chance on goal along the way?
Certainly, but for the sake of Apollo that isn't the point. To watch I, Madnle bounding across the field on a crazy ultimately pointless foray spanning the length of the entire pitch (in total he certainly traveled further than the end line to end line length of the pitch)—It was joy in personified, animal-spirited action.
When I talked to I, Madnle about his majestic run the following day he rolled his eyes, threw his head back, and lamented it’s ultimate pointlessness. No, I didn’t chastise him. That’s the point. At the time it meant everything and in retrospect was devoid of utility.
There isn’t so much as a molecule of doubt in my mind that had Dr. Faust seen I, Madnle’s joyous romp from one end of futbol pitch world to the other he would have yelled “¡STOP!” to the nearby Lucifer and traded his soul for it right there and then.
It was nice to have the I, Madnle of old back.
FAN UPDATE: ROWLAND & ROCKY
Jody Rowland and Rocky, her shy bulldog, nearly made it to the game. They were entering the stadium just as we were exiting. As regular readers know the critical element in anything is spirit. So despite the fact that neither Jody nor Rocky saw even a moment of the game they made the effort and get the credit.
By the way, to give credit where due Elliot’s fiancé, Big Pete’s wife (Jamie “Godley” Moran), Big Pete’s baby (Li’l Godley Jr.), and Spectra were on hand as well.
I don’t know how to convey to you all how amazing it would be if there were, like, 20 fans there. At a typical game there are no fans. A couple or few at the most… between two teams put together. As far as I can tell the ¡FUTURISMOS! are by far and away the biggest draw in the league. So to have 20 fans there ooing, awing, gasping and clapping (but no booing, you could whistle though if you can whistle that loudly) would be indescribable.
LI’L PETE AWARD
When I was in high school a guy I knew played on the futbol/soccer team. During a game he and an opponent kicked the ball at the same time. It was one of those fluke things, a one-in-billions chance that two people would kick a ball in just such a way at exactly the same instant so that the energy had nowhere to go but into one of their legs. It ended up shattering the bones in the guy I knew’s leg. I don’t mean as in “he broke a bone or two.” I mean as in “it was like bones in his leg exploded.” It was grizzly.
He wore this Frankenstein looking contraption on his leg for a while and then a cast on his entire leg for the rest of the year. At the time I was not disposed to play futbol but any thought of perhaps kicking the ball around was quickly dispelled by a thought of his shattered leg. Ever since taking up the sport a year ago that guy’s leg has been somewhere in the back of my head.
In Postseason Game 1 the specter of that freak accident took corporal form and loomed down upon me.
I was playing left back (a defender). The ball was loose about 15-feet to my right and up field a little. This put the ball dead center of the field about 20-feet from our goal. I raced for it knowing there was a GC guy bearing down on it over my left shoulder. Elliot was also racing for it out of the net over my right shoulder. The back of my mind came to the fore and I realized in half of the instant I had available for thought what was happening: this was leg exploding situation.
The GC guy and I got to the ball at nearly exactly the same time. The only advantage I had was that I didn’t need to kick the ball so much as poke it and he had to kick which takes an extra moment. So there I am about to thrust my leg into to exactly the situation I’ve dreaded from the first moment I kicked a ball and ¿what sustained my resolve to throw my foot out there?
The spirit of Li’l Pete.
Under those circumstances—well within striking distance of our goal—the thought of Li’l Pete doing anything other than throwing whatever she could of herself into that ball is impossible. So I lunged with my right foot extended, poked the ball away, and then received the full force of the GS guy’s boot on my right toe.
I lost site of the world in a momentary white flash. The next instant I could see the ball rolling away up field, out of danger, and my next thought was “ouch, my toe hurts.” My next thought was, “it just stings, I’ll run it off.” A few seconds later I thought, “nope, this isn’t going to wear off.” I got off the pitch as quickly as I could, briefly played another few minutes later on, but we were effectively down a man at that point.
So I’m giving my right big toe the Li’l Pete Award. It bore the brunt of the Li’l Pete spirit and the burden of my own fears in one blinding white flash. Thank you, Right Big Toe, you would have made Li’l Pete proud.
[By the way, the guy who knocked my toe out of the game apologized in the post-game “good game” handshake line. “Sorry about the toe crunch, man.” Glass Ceiling were all-in-all a good natured lot.]
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