Game 6: ¡FUTURISMOS! 5 -- Crush 1

Pre-Game
The Paradoxical Nature of Heaven
Once upon a time my father, brother and I were eating at an Applebee’s. I would have been about 13-years-old and the topic of conversation was “heaven.” Of the three of us I was the only one who held that heaven could exist. My brother and father ridiculed me. I’m pretty sure Siddhartha and Jesus went through similar trials.

The only exchange I remember of that life-changing Applebee’s lunch was father asking me what one does in heaven. I said whatever brought the most joy. He asked what that would be for me.

“Playing futbol,” I said.

My father replied, “¿Who would you play against?”

“Other people,” I said.

“¿I presume you win?”

Not seeing where this was going I walked right into his Heffalump trap (deftly dug, as Piglet instructed Pooh, where I was going to be walking “only about a foot further on”) “Of course, it isn’t fun to lose,” I said.

“Well,” father said, basking in his rhetorical checkmate, “¿how does the other team feel about loosing?”

My belief in heaven died that day in Applebee’s.

Little did I know that some 20 years later father’s Sophistry would take the corporeal form of Crush. It wasn’t that we utterly annihilated them. We didn’t. We just soundly beat them and controlled the game from wire to wire even though we started the game short a lady.

¿Was the game fun? Absolutely. I’d go so far as to call it “a blast.” I think Crush had fun for the most part too. I’m sure they had a stretch, probably the first 12-minutes of the second half, that wasn’t fun but in the end I saw many of them smiling and laughing.

Even with all that I must confess I don’t have much to say about Game 6. It feels like both poor form to go on for 3,000+ words (I limited myself to just over half that) on a game like this and (¿worse?) boring too. In the end it would still read Goal 1; Goal 2; Goal 3; Goal 4, Goal 5; They score; Full time.

Perhaps this is what father was getting at in that Applebee’s all those years ago. That the nature of joy isn’t so straightforward. That for heaven to be Heaven you still have to lose now and then. And that if that’s the case there’s no reason we can’t make heaven on Earth because while perfection is in short supply down here we’ve got plenty of pain to sweeten the our occasional pleasures.

Roll Call
Ladies: Messi, Yoda, Marta (on loan from Double Ataris), Blue (on loan from Double Ataris). Attendance problems persist for the ladies and thank ¡SOLUSTRON! that King Vidor is the captain of another club we can pilfer from on a regular basis.
Gentlemen: Elliot, King Vidor, Socrates, Plato, Big Duke, and me.

KICK OFF
¡Goal! Big Duke (5th minute): ¡F! 1 -- Crush 0
Big Duke brought the ball in from the left wing and passed it to me in the middle. I immediately tapped the ball forward into the space in front of Big Duke about 10 yards from the goal for him to run to (a “give and go,” it’s the same concept as in basketball or hockey). He got to the ball an instant before the Crush keeper and fired right into the guy. The ball bounced off the Crush keeper back into Big Duke and he essentially bodied the ball into the goal.

¡Goal! Blue (15th minute): ¡F! 2 -- Crush 0
I can’t remember if Blue ended up with the ball because of deft ¡FUTURISMO! passing or if she stole the keeper’s inbound pass. I think it was the later. Either way she kicked a thigh-high a bouncing ball from 15 yards out and scored.

Halftime
We were up 2 but it could have been 4 or 5. We had a couple of chances where the Crush keeper saved the ball but couldn’t control it and a mad scramble by Crush to clear it ensued averting sure ¡FUTURISMO! goals.

On the other end Elliot was rarely tested. They had one guy who got a couple of good chances but always at tough angles because he was well defended. Your ¡FUTURISMOS! were a relaxed lot at the half.

¡Goal! Me (27th minute): ¡F! 3 -- Crush 0
I was playing right forward. Big Duke got the ball at midfield. I looked up and saw not a single defender between me and the goal. I was off, sprinting up pitch. Big Duke saw me and made a perfect pass. The ball and I met at the edge of box. At full sprint I really just redirected the ball rather than kicking it and it ended up going by a diving keeper just inside the right post.

[In case you’re wondering, yes, all your ¡FUTURISMOS! went semi-nuts. A wave of elation washed over everyone. Elliot bellowed “¡Now that’s a real goal! ¡Now that’s a real goal!” It’s a clear sign that someone doesn’t often score if people get excited about a routine goal. That’s the upside of never scoring: When you do it’s an event.]

¡Goal! TB (30th minute): ¡F! 4 -- Crush 0
A classic TB goal. He received the ball in the middle of the pitch at the edge of box. Made move to his left to get space from his defender then fired back across the goal high into the net over the keeper.

¡Goal! TB (35th minute): ¡F! 5 -- Crush 0
A kind of backwards replay of TB's previous goal but this time he received the ball to the left of the goal at the edge of the box, made his move to the right and fired the ball in over the keeper from the middle of the pitch.

12-Minutes to Play and the Game Was Over
Elliot made me keeper shortly after TB’s second goal. That is the universally recognized sign for “we are so in control of this game that we are no longer worried about allowing goals so Sawyer will keep.” There were stretches were it felt like the ball didn’t even reach our side of the pitch. Our passing was the best I’ve ever seen. The ball popped around so quickly and smoothly it felt like a drill at times.

¡Goal! The Really Good Crush Guy: ¡F! 5 -- Crush 1
The Crush guy who had the terrific shots in the first half was due and I was in the goal so he was going to get paid. He ended up with the ball and a clear shot from about 10 yards out, which was straight at me on the ground. I tried to get down on it but the ball ended up going through my knees as I fell to the ground.

Full time

Post Game

My Weekly Special Thanks to PEOPLE Who Aren’t ¡FUTURISMOS! But Without Whom We Couldn’t Play
Both of the Double Atari ladies who stepped in for us were excellent. Blue scored and played well all around. Everyone tells me the other lady’s name was Jo but I don’t believe it for a second. I’m stone cold certain her name is Marta, as in Brazil’s Marta, the reigning FIFA World Player of the Year. At one point she was directing the offense from midfield by just shouting out where the person with the ball should pass. She was phenomenal both in her ball skills and her command of the game.

Plato, Socrates’ brother, was also on hand and excellent, but as Captain Emeritus I’ve conferred honorary club status upon him because I reckon (hope) we’ll be seeing more of him.

It’s Official: Unitarians Are Right (or the tragic injury of Messi’s knees followed by a recovery that can only be explained as a miracle)
Believe me, all of my non-Unitarian brothers and sisters, this is as bitter a pill for me to swallow as it is for the rest of you. If I hadn’t been 4-feet from this event and witnessed it with my own eyes I wouldn’t believe it either. So, non-Unitarians, please take a seat because this is going to turn your conception of the heavens inside out.

A Crush lady, let’s call her Reckoning, was bringing the ball up along the sideline right in front of the ¡FUTURISMOS! bench and Messi was the nearest ¡FUTURISMO! Under normal circumstance Messi would rather play barefoot than defend someone but she must have been confounded with an ethereal disorientation because she actually stepped up and got in the way. Reckoning attempted to pass the ball toward the middle but banged it into Messi’s knee. The ball dropped to the ground at Messi’s feet less than a yard from the sideline.

At this point both Messi and Reckoning froze for an instant. All Messi had to do was gently tap the ball and send it out of bounds to end the Crush attack. But the great god of Unitarianism--¡SOLUSTRON!--made it not so. Messi stood frozen and Reckoning simply stepped by her, tiptoeing with the ball along the sideline, and proceeded with the Crush attack.

I called out to Messi, “By the will of ¡SOLUSTRON!, dear Messi, ¿why hath thee declined to simply raise thy foot to extirpate the Crush onslaught?”

Messi, snorting in pain, responded, “Heathen, ¿do not thine eyes convey the truth like the eternal flame of Unitarianism guides our path to peace, justice and equality? The Reckoning did send the ball into my knee and as a result I stand before you broken. Alas, I am so young but this will be my last day on Earth. I am finished. Tell my parents they sat at the head of the table of my heart and auction off my worldly goods to raise money for comprehensive sex education programs.”

I took a deep breath to commence singing my keen for a mortally wounded teammate when a ¡FUTURISMO! stole the ball to snuff out the Crush attack. Messi looked up and saw nothing but open pitch between herself and the Crush goal--not a defender in sight. And here, dear ¡FUTURISMO! fans, was when the miracle took place.

Messi, an instant before so seriously injured she couldn’t nudge a ball out of bounds or move a foot to stop Reckoning, was miraculously healed and took off sprinting toward the Crush goal bellowing at the top of her lungs for the ball. I sincerely doubt I need to tell you what changed in that moment but, of course, I will.

¡SOLUSTRON! reached out from behind The Great Rainbow of Non-Denominational Enlightenment and healed Messi with her/his/its own hand/paw/hoof/fin/extremity/tubular ending.

I know, my fellow non-Unitarians. I wouldn't believe it either had I not witnessed the miracle with my own eyes. But I did. ¡SOLUSTRON! is real and Unitarians are right but that doesn’t make them any less weird.