Game 5: ¡FUTURISMOS! 4 -- Mad Dogs 3

¿IS THAT YOU GOD? IT’S ME, SAWYER
Perhaps you’re familiar with the story that illustrates a common conception about how Gods work on Earth. It goes something like there’s a flood and a dude is stuck on his roof. All these people try to help him off but he keeps shooing them away saying, “Don’t worry, God will save me.” After finally waving off a helicopter the water overtakes him and he drowns.

When the dude gets to heaven and meets God he says, “God, ¿What’s your deal? You totally let me drown.”

God replies, “¿What’s my deal? ¿What’s YOUR deal? I sent you a canoe, then a rowboat… then finally a helicopter and you just wouldn’t take the hint.”

If Game 5 proves anything it’s that I’m that dude.

As detailed in last week’s recap the fate of our season hung in the balance in game 5. For the vast majority of the game’s 48 minutes your ¡FUTURISMOS! were outplayed by Mad Dogs. [They really should have run away with the match and would have were it not for yet another stellar performance from Elliot betwixt the timbers.] We were just plain ugly for long stretches setting the stage for another common religious parable.

Humans are only truly ready to see the light when things are darkest. The first few minutes of the second half are among the darkest your ¡FUTURISMOS! have stumbled through: down 3-1 and feeling lucky about the margin. Little could we have known the Gods had us right where they wanted us.

PREGAME STATUS
Game 5 took place on Mother’s Day, which guaranteed an odd assortment of ¡FUTURISMOS! [Apparently not everyone can plan his or her Mother’s Day events around the match… like I did.] We were in reasonable shape for Gentlemen: Elliot, Socrates, TB, King Vidor, and I were on hand.

Things get unusual for the ladies. Belle was there but her running mates were a pair of rookies. Lisa Lucas (nickname TBD) had played for us once during our inaugural season and hadn’t played in any way shape or form since. Rachel Dunagan (also nickname TBD) had never played for us and not at all in 10 years. In addition we picked up one of the Double Atari (King Vidor’s original and primary club) ladies to bolster our ranks. I think her name was Mindy but I’m not sure.

Conversely Mad Dogs had a ravenous pack. They had at least 3 gentlemen and 3 lady subs. Either they don’t have moms or --like I-- scheduled those festivities around the match. [Missing ¡FUTURISMOS!, I’m just saying, look into your hearts.]

THE WEATHER
The weather warrants a note because it was ridiculous. The air temperature was just shy of 60-degrees. Warm in the sun with a breeze bordering on cold. Nary a cloud in the sky.

A NOTE ABOUT THE SIZE OF THE GOALS
One last thing before we get underway. For the first time in club history we played with full-sized futbol goals. Compared to what we’re used to they are obscene. The UofM goals are probably 8’x8’. The Holy Angles are a more appropriate 8’x12’-ish. But these suckers are positively cavernous at 8-feet tall and 24-feet wide. Keep in mind we play on the equivalent of half a proper pitch so the goals look crazy big because they are.

AND WE’RE OFF
Right from the start Mad Dogs’ pace and a never ending supply of fresh people felt like they were playing with an extra player (wait a minute, ¿what if they were?). I quickly lost count of the number of times they intercepted the ball at midfield because two Mad Dogs would jump our inbound passes. Then on the attack it seemed like they were playing with 4 forwards to our 3 defenders.

Despite that your ¡FUTURISMOS! were the first to put the ball in the net. TB had a shot their keeper couldn’t control. There was a melee involving TB, their keeper and an MD defender. When it was over the ball ended up the Mad Dog net.

¡GOAL!

But no. It was waved off because the ref felt TB had slid to kick the ball. A no-no in the CSC. The goal was disallowed.

¡GOAL! KING VIDOR: ¡F! 1 -- Mad Dogs 0
King Vidor opened the scoring. From the left-side of the goal and roughly 10-yards out he took a shot at the right corner of the goal. The Mad Dog keeper got to it but couldn’t control it. The ball had some serious spin on it as King Vidor had attempted to curl it. As a result when the ball hit the ground after the Mad Dog keeper bobbled it instead of rolling away it bounced backwards into the goal.

From a distance it looked like the ball had a will of its own and decided it wanted to be in the net so it jumped in there of its own volition. Of course it was the Gods pushing it in. This would not be the weirdest goal of the game.

¡GOAL! Mad Dog Guy: ¡F! 1 -- Mad Dogs 1
The first Mad Dog goal was a direct result of their midfield dominance and their mystery fourth forward. An MD guy stole the ball at midfield and took off toward our goal with another MD guy running with him. I was our middle defender and shaded the ball carrier so he’d have to make a pass which he did. But it was a good pass and the other MD guy quickly controlled the ball. I sprinted to catch up with him -- because, again, it seemed like they always had one more person attacking than we had defending so there wasn’t a ¡FUTURISMO! to help.

I caught up with him 20-yards from the goal in line with the left post. At 15-yards we were shoulder to shoulder and I hoped with a couple more steps I could overtake him to cut him off but that’s when he shot with his left foot (I was on his right shoulder) and put the ball on the ground just inside the right post, the only place beyond Elliot’s reach. The shot was well taken and the goal most certainly deserved.

¡GOAL! Mad Dog Guy: ¡F! 1 -- Mad Dogs 2
This one was 100-percent, no-two-ways-about-it, stone-cold, my fault. I was still middle defender. A Mad Dog sent a ball long up the middle. I raced after it as it rolled toward our goal with a Mad Dog guy chasing me down from behind. I got to the ball around the same time it reached the ¡FUTURISMOS! box but I didn’t want to touch it both out of fear that I’d fumble it thereby leaving it for the Mad Dog trailing me and I thought Elliot would charge forward to pick it up. As a result I did nothing at exactly the wrong moment. The Mad Dog guy blew past me and had a wide-open shot as Elliot was caught wondering what the hell I was doing.

It was essentially an own goal (i.e. scoring on your own team)... which I literally did last season.

HALF TIME
We were exhausted and dejected. We’d just played our worst half in recent memory and felt lucky to be down a mere goal because the Mad Dogs dominated play and seemed to be everywhere. We had chances but it felt like they had twice as many. Our defense, under my watch, was largely a mess and on offence they always seemed to get a foot in our passing lanes.

Things looked grim.

THE OPENING MINUTES OF THE SECOND HALF
The Oxford English Dictionary defines “siege” as: a military operation in which enemy forces surround a town or building, cutting off essential supplies, with the aim of compelling the surrender of those inside.

The opening minutes of the second-half the Mad Dogs literally laid siege to our goal. They used the ball as a battering ram and their aim was to compel us to surrender to save Elliot’s life. I won’t even hazard a guess about how many shots they had on goal. They would steal the ball at midfield and a swarm of Mad Dogs would descend on the goal for shot after shot. It was brutal.

I’ve belabored this before and I will again. Elliot is a top-notch keeper and the only reason we didn’t get run off the pitch during this stretch was because of him. He turned away shot after shot. It was a dazzling display of keeping.

¡GOAL! Mad Dog Guy: ¡F! 1 -- Mad Dogs 3
A Mad Dog guy stole the ball at midfield (no, I’m not exaggerating on this point, they overran the midfield) near the right sideline. He streaked up field with the ball, his defender in his wake, and shot from just to the right of the goal. The ball found its way into the left corner. It took a perfectly placed shot to beat Elliot and that’s what it was.

MIDPOINT SECOND HALF
Things look bleak. We played worse to open the second half than we had in the first half and trailed 3-1. There was absolutely positively no sign things were going to turn around. This was night 14,599 in the desert and not one of us believed Moses had a clue anymore.

¡GOAL! King Vidor: ¡F! 2 -- Mad Dogs 3
From the get-go I encouraged everyone to take shots from what would normally be crazy distances because the nets were so big and the wind was blowing. Put those together and you just never know. As we passed into the final 12-minutes King Vidor finally took my advice.

From 20-yards out King Vidor lofted a shot toward the Mad Dog goal. Their keeper was playing too far off the line and backpedaled with the diving ball, leaping as it passed over his head but to no avail. The ball fell behind him into the net. A beautiful effort from the King.

MOMENTUM
The thing that’s weird about momentum in sports is its real. How it can be so is an honest-to-Gods mystery. Mad Dogs should have continued to run us over at this point. Nay, especially at this point. They had a legion of fresh players shuffling in and out. We had one gentleman sub and had lost our only lady reserve (Mindy had to go home). Your ¡FUTURISMOS! should have been running out of gas as Mad Dogs gleefully stepped on the accelerator.

Not only didn’t that happen it was nearly the opposite. From that point forward it was a pitched battle. Apparently the Gods were taking a more than passing interest in the affaire.

¡GOAL Socrates: ¡F! 3 -- Mad Dogs 3
Your ¡FUTURISMOS! were awarded a free kick from just outside the Mad Dogs box a shade to the left of their goal. I can’t remember what happened to warrant the free kick. Socrates took the free kick and curled his shot to the right of the Mad Dog wall into the upper right of the goal.

TB screamed.

Mad Dogs walked around in a daze, stunned at what was happening. ¿Remember what Tom Brady looked liked during much of the Super Bowl? It wasn’t a begrudging sort of “man, huh, that’s the way it goes sometimes…” it was “___________.” They were astonished in the literal sense of being temporarily unable to respond.

6-minutes remained.

PLAY OF THE GAME ¡GOAL! Elliot: ¡F! 4 -- Mad Dogs 3
The six minutes between Socrates’ goal and the end of the game were crazy. We had another free kick just outside their box that narrowly missed. TB and the Mad Dog keeper got into it leading to the keeper throwing an elbow at TB. On the other end Elliot had to make a diving save but couldn’t control the ball so it was free in front of our goal but the Mad Dog shooter couldn’t control it well enough to take shot on an empty net and Socrates managed to get in the way and then clear the ball. I mean those 6-minutes were crazy like bellowing in pain and then relief ever 30-seconds.

Before I describe what happens next I have to point something out about futbol. When the clock hits zero the game is over no matter what’s going on.

In basketball you can score after the clock runs out just so long as the shooter got the ball off before the clock hit zero. In American-rules football a play can start with 1-second on the clock and then take as long as it takes for the player with the ball to get tackled, run out of bounds, or score. Plus in both of those sports the players can see how much time is left because there are clocks for them to look at. So scores “at the buzzer” are relatively common. We’ve all seen it happen.

Goals “at the buzzer” in futbol are exceedingly rare both because when the clock hits zero that’s it and because players can’t see how much time is left. Only the ref can see the time. Players have a sense of how much time is left because you ask the ref and he says “under a minute.” But the ref doesn’t run around counting down the seconds so you can’t think, “oh, man, there’s 2-second, I better shoot no matter where I am.”

With that in mind…

A miniscule but unknown amount of time was left in the game when the ball found its way to Elliot on the ¡FUTURISMOS! side of the pitch. Of course that’s where it would find him because he was the keeper. From roughly 35-yards out--again, on the wrong side of midfield--Elliot launched a shot. It was a high arcing ball and--again--the Mad Dog keeper was out of position.

At this point accounts differ about what happened. Some of us think the ball dropped over the keeper. Others thought the ball landed in front of the net and bounced past the keeper. A third opinion holds the ball bounced in front the keeper and then over him into the goal. It only stands to reason that everyone saw something different because the goal was miraculous.

Proof extinguishes faith. Once something has been proven it just is. It requires no special concentration or energy to believe. The miracle of a piece of metal moving other pieces of metal around without touching became magnetism once we saw the mechanism clearly. If a being fueled by faith to reveals itself too clearly it commits suicide. Hence everyone who saw the goal saw it differently because to have seen it directly would have killed the God who stole the ball into the goal.

However the ball got into the net at nearly the same instant the ref blew the whistle three times indicating full-time. The game was over and we had a not-to-be-believed victory. Everyone on our bench screamed and stormed the pitch to congratulate Elliot. [That is to say I screamed and ran out to congratulate him.]

Elliot, our keeper, scored the game-winning goal literally as time expired on a shot from beyond midfield. I’ve never seen a literal “buzzer beating” goal in futbol. I’ve seen goals scored seconds before the game ended but never as the game ended. Nor have I ever seen a goal scored from beyond midfield. I’ve seen one scored from exactly midfield but never beyond.

Astonishing. The only reasonable explanation is assistance from beings beyond reason.

LI’L PETE AWARD: ELLIOT
I know I’ve gone on about this before but it can’t be stressed enough. There’s a world of difference between a proper keeper and someone who happens to be playing the position of keeper. This game was a perfect illustration of the difference between the two. We scored 4 goals. Against a proper keeper we would have scored 1. Mad Dogs scored 3 goals but had they been shooting at their own keeper they would have scored 8 or more.

To wit…

The day belonged to Elliot. As I’ve already made clear he turned in a stunning performance minding a gargantuan goal. The barrage of shots he turned away in the first 12-minutes of the second half alone would have netted him the Li’l Pete Award.

It was thanks to Elliot’s fortitude that we stayed in the game. It was by the grace of his foot that we won.

HONORABLE MENTIONS: LISA LUCAS & RACHEL DUNAGAN
Lisa Lucas and Rachel Dunagan couldn’t have picked a better/worse day to make to make their season debuts. I know Ms. Dunagan thought she’d be spelling people for a few minutes at a time rather than being thrown to the dogs from minute one with only the occasional brief respite.

I know because she told me so on Friday. Even though I knew she’d likely be playing considerably more than that if not the whole game I didn’t warn her for fear she wouldn’t show up. Although Ms. Lucas and I didn’t talk about it I’m guessing she was thinking the same thing.

It’s no stretch of the truth to say we wouldn’t have won this game without them. In fact we probably wouldn’t have played at all without them. So huzzah to Ms. Lucas and Ms. Dunagan. Thanks to them we played one of our more miserable games and were rewarded with our most glorious victory.

¿GOD?... WHATEVER
Once upon a time in high school Dave, a friend of mine, and I walked to Super America in the middle of a moonless, black night to get dill pickle potato chips and sodas. Dave asked what it would take for me to believe in a religion. I told him it would take nothing short of Jesus--or Buddha or Zarathustra or whoever--literally appearing before me and saying, “Hi there. My name is Christ… Jesus Christ. It’s nice to meet you.” And then delivering a lecture before flying away to the Moon or wherever those types live.

At the time I didn’t appreciate how that sort of introduction would undermine the institution of faith. I appreciate it now and still maintain the same basic religion joining threshold (something that drives Unitarians crazy because they don’t have a divine ruler to visit me and therefore feel I’ve unfairly excluded their beliefs) but there are times I wonder if I’m not stuck on a roof turning away the Gods’ attempts to reach out to me.

As silly and small as it seems Game 5 was one of those times. If the Gods work in mysterious ways then they’re as likely to get in touch with you through funny looking potato chips as they are with divine bolts of clarity in times of dire emotional need.

Dr. Faust saw what the Gods’ were getting at in children playing in a field and traded his soul on the spot. As Elliot’s shot settled in the net under a celestial veil and the ref’s whistle sounded I was looking to make a deal.