I’ve been feeling guilty about the death of the ¡FUTURISMOS! blog but I’m not sure why. By that I mean I can’t tell if this is a hubristic pang or not. Either way I’ve found myself looking at the entry announcing its death on a regular basis. That means something. I just don’t know what yet.
The 10th season starts January 22, 2009. Perhaps I’ll have come to a realization by then.
By the way, your ¡FUTURISMOS! narrowly averted finishing in last place. We pulled out the season finale to move up to fifth from the bottom. While we’ve fallen from our Olympian high as champions it could have been a little worse.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Season 7 Finale: ¡FUTURISMOS! 6 — MAS 2 (I think, as of 12:58 am Wednesday CSC still hadn’t posted the score)
{NOTE: Sorry, this will be a short blog again, virtually devoid of game detail. My non-futboling life hasn’t been conducive to proper writing. I can’t promise this will change in the near future.}
¿Can the Circle be Unbroken? Well… Yes and No
Depends on the circle. We opened the season against MAS and drew 5-5, but they kicked our butts in most critical area: spirit. I think this excerpt from the game 1 recap says it all.
“The source of my bitterness is that for the first time in club history we were hands down out team spirited. It got so bad that late in the second half Diosa turned to me while the legion of MAS reserves were in mid-protracted chant and said, ‘They’re way cooler than we are. I wish I was [sic] playing for them.’”
While MAS failed to muster a proper chant this time around their spirits remained high. They proved the perfect opponent for our season finale because they were still clearly having fun even when the match was well out of hand with 10 minutes yet to play. As such they demonstrated the simplest and therefore most easily forgotten fact about playing futbol: the play’s the thing.
This match was pure play. All smiles, laughter, and fun. Yes, everyone ran hard. Yes, everyone—on both clubs—were at points and in equal measure amused and befuddled by Diosa’s dedication to dribbling and single-minded determination not to pass the ball. Yes, everyone was trying to get the ball and deposit it into the other team’s goal. And, yes, while that was the point of playing the game it wasn’t THE POINT.
I’ve harped on it before and I’ll do so again (and again…. and again… and again...)—if one isn’t clearly having fun running around kicking a ball, chasing people, being chased by people, and playing a game with all the faculties bestowed upon us by ¡SOLUSTRON! and The Great Blue Sky then one is lost. There may be no meaning to life as The Greatest Meta Concept Spawning Meta Concept but there one to play.
If you don’t know what it is then I’m sorry to say you’re one of The Lost.
Roll Call
Gents: Elliot, TB, Heartbreaker, Big Pete, King Vidor, Touro & Me
Ladies: Diosa, & Photonicorn the Awesome.
Not a stellar attendance week for your ¡FUTURISMO! ladies but we lucked out on a few fronts. First, neither Diosa nor Photonicorn the Awesome need a sub, just ask them. Second we picked up Katie, a lady from the match that finished before ours. She was playing in her fifth game of the day and we were stone cold fortunate on the third front because Hot Wheels (aka Deb, from Double Ataris) arrived in the nick of time to close out the last 7-ish minutes for a gassed Katie.
Weather
The game kicked off at 8:30pm. That’s properly dark this time of year so under the blue hue of the floodlights the match was. If the Moon was in attendance I didn’t see her so I had no sense of whether there were any clouds obscuring Tengri and ¡SOLUSTRON!’s view. The temperature was just shy of 70. Low humidity. It was the kind of evening that makes you appreciate being alive and able to run around kicking a ball, yelling, laughing, and singing with your fellow humans.
[Footnote: You might be thinking, “Well, ¿could you see any stars?” No, but under the conditions that doesn’t mean there weren't clouds. With the floodlights blasting down into our faces our pupils constricted enough so the stars—even if they were on display—aren’t sufficiently bright to send a strong enough impulse to the occipital lobe. Hence even if they were there we couldn’t see them.
In case you’re now thinking, “¿Wait a minute? Doesn’t that call into question the very nature of perception and thereby throw the question of ‘if a tree falls in the woods and no one is there to hear it does it make a sound' into permanent dispute.” To which I reply with a wink and the faintest of smiles.]
FIRST HALF
We scored three goals and all of them were Diosa related. She cleaned up a mess created by a TB shot the MAS keeper couldn’t control for her first goal; followed that with a bloop header off a corner kick; and then for good measure took a shot that missed the goal but found the foot a teammate far post (Heartbreaker, I think) who redirected it into the goal.
MAS didn’t threaten in the sense that they didn’t really have any killer shots or opportunities The Fates nixed. They did have a few great whacks at the ball that I was glad weren’t on target. And, Lord, they had a lady who could fly. Our defense held fast and only buckled a couple times even though it was often anchored by the less than rock steady Me flanked by a forward masquerading as a defender (Photonicorn the Awesome) and a complete stranger (Katie).
HALF TIME
With three goals in hand and nothing but fun in mind Elliot turned the gloves over to Touro for the second half who was his usual irrepressible self betwixt the timbers. At one point Touro made the most curious keeping choice by running all the way to the corner to defend a MAS lady with the ball. I’m trying to think of an easy analogy from another sport but I can’t. Just know it was basically insane. Classic Touro.
SECOND HALF
We scored three times and they scored twice. I think, again CSC still hasn’t updated the scores as of 10:26am on Wednesday. I know TB scored one of our goals after a nifty run but that’s all I remember. I have no recollection of the others. Diosa maintained her position on passing. The ball continued to make the most satisfying smacking sound off Big Pete’s Zidane-esque dome. Photonicorn the Awesome used her patented "Turn & Burn" move once to great effect. Entropy in the Universe increased so time appeared to “move forward.” Absolutely not one of the mysteries of life was addressed and absolutely not one person cared or even noticed. Not even me. That’s the hallmark of a good match.
Season 7 Conclusion
Your ¡FUTURISMOS! finished our seventh campaign with 4 wins, 4 draws, and 2 losses. One of those wins was a playoff match against a superior club. None of the losses were embarrassing.
Good season. Not a great season, but a good one.
Until next year (which means a week and half from now).
¿Can the Circle be Unbroken? Well… Yes and No
Depends on the circle. We opened the season against MAS and drew 5-5, but they kicked our butts in most critical area: spirit. I think this excerpt from the game 1 recap says it all.
“The source of my bitterness is that for the first time in club history we were hands down out team spirited. It got so bad that late in the second half Diosa turned to me while the legion of MAS reserves were in mid-protracted chant and said, ‘They’re way cooler than we are. I wish I was [sic] playing for them.’”
While MAS failed to muster a proper chant this time around their spirits remained high. They proved the perfect opponent for our season finale because they were still clearly having fun even when the match was well out of hand with 10 minutes yet to play. As such they demonstrated the simplest and therefore most easily forgotten fact about playing futbol: the play’s the thing.
This match was pure play. All smiles, laughter, and fun. Yes, everyone ran hard. Yes, everyone—on both clubs—were at points and in equal measure amused and befuddled by Diosa’s dedication to dribbling and single-minded determination not to pass the ball. Yes, everyone was trying to get the ball and deposit it into the other team’s goal. And, yes, while that was the point of playing the game it wasn’t THE POINT.
I’ve harped on it before and I’ll do so again (and again…. and again… and again...)—if one isn’t clearly having fun running around kicking a ball, chasing people, being chased by people, and playing a game with all the faculties bestowed upon us by ¡SOLUSTRON! and The Great Blue Sky then one is lost. There may be no meaning to life as The Greatest Meta Concept Spawning Meta Concept but there one to play.
If you don’t know what it is then I’m sorry to say you’re one of The Lost.
Roll Call
Gents: Elliot, TB, Heartbreaker, Big Pete, King Vidor, Touro & Me
Ladies: Diosa, & Photonicorn the Awesome.
Not a stellar attendance week for your ¡FUTURISMO! ladies but we lucked out on a few fronts. First, neither Diosa nor Photonicorn the Awesome need a sub, just ask them. Second we picked up Katie, a lady from the match that finished before ours. She was playing in her fifth game of the day and we were stone cold fortunate on the third front because Hot Wheels (aka Deb, from Double Ataris) arrived in the nick of time to close out the last 7-ish minutes for a gassed Katie.
Weather
The game kicked off at 8:30pm. That’s properly dark this time of year so under the blue hue of the floodlights the match was. If the Moon was in attendance I didn’t see her so I had no sense of whether there were any clouds obscuring Tengri and ¡SOLUSTRON!’s view. The temperature was just shy of 70. Low humidity. It was the kind of evening that makes you appreciate being alive and able to run around kicking a ball, yelling, laughing, and singing with your fellow humans.
[Footnote: You might be thinking, “Well, ¿could you see any stars?” No, but under the conditions that doesn’t mean there weren't clouds. With the floodlights blasting down into our faces our pupils constricted enough so the stars—even if they were on display—aren’t sufficiently bright to send a strong enough impulse to the occipital lobe. Hence even if they were there we couldn’t see them.
In case you’re now thinking, “¿Wait a minute? Doesn’t that call into question the very nature of perception and thereby throw the question of ‘if a tree falls in the woods and no one is there to hear it does it make a sound' into permanent dispute.” To which I reply with a wink and the faintest of smiles.]
FIRST HALF
We scored three goals and all of them were Diosa related. She cleaned up a mess created by a TB shot the MAS keeper couldn’t control for her first goal; followed that with a bloop header off a corner kick; and then for good measure took a shot that missed the goal but found the foot a teammate far post (Heartbreaker, I think) who redirected it into the goal.
MAS didn’t threaten in the sense that they didn’t really have any killer shots or opportunities The Fates nixed. They did have a few great whacks at the ball that I was glad weren’t on target. And, Lord, they had a lady who could fly. Our defense held fast and only buckled a couple times even though it was often anchored by the less than rock steady Me flanked by a forward masquerading as a defender (Photonicorn the Awesome) and a complete stranger (Katie).
HALF TIME
With three goals in hand and nothing but fun in mind Elliot turned the gloves over to Touro for the second half who was his usual irrepressible self betwixt the timbers. At one point Touro made the most curious keeping choice by running all the way to the corner to defend a MAS lady with the ball. I’m trying to think of an easy analogy from another sport but I can’t. Just know it was basically insane. Classic Touro.
SECOND HALF
We scored three times and they scored twice. I think, again CSC still hasn’t updated the scores as of 10:26am on Wednesday. I know TB scored one of our goals after a nifty run but that’s all I remember. I have no recollection of the others. Diosa maintained her position on passing. The ball continued to make the most satisfying smacking sound off Big Pete’s Zidane-esque dome. Photonicorn the Awesome used her patented "Turn & Burn" move once to great effect. Entropy in the Universe increased so time appeared to “move forward.” Absolutely not one of the mysteries of life was addressed and absolutely not one person cared or even noticed. Not even me. That’s the hallmark of a good match.
Season 7 Conclusion
Your ¡FUTURISMOS! finished our seventh campaign with 4 wins, 4 draws, and 2 losses. One of those wins was a playoff match against a superior club. None of the losses were embarrassing.
Good season. Not a great season, but a good one.
Until next year (which means a week and half from now).
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Season 7, Playoff Game 2: ¡FUTURISMOS! 0 — Transformers 2
No, Buddha Never Called Anyone “Asshole.”
Sorry, ¡FUTURISMOS! Fans, there’s no real write-up this week. Apparently the Gods don’t me to spend any serious typing time on Transfomers because we played them back in Game 6 and I didn’t have time that week either.
All too appropriate (as in maybe the Gods really are at work here) because there wasn’t much to say. The weather was just this side of miserable: 50-degress, windy, and raining… at night. It was fine on the pitch while running around but miserable on the sideline standing still. Transformers scored twice, once each half.
The first was a routine save that Elliot was going to easily scoop up but a ¡FUTURISMO! defender—not knowing Elliot was all over it—stuck a foot in the way and the ball was redirected to the far post leaving Elliot out to dry (in the rain, no easy feat). Basically an own goal. It happens. Not often, but it happens.
The second goal wasn’t complete rubbish but it wasn’t anything to brag about either. A ¡FUTURISMO! defender turned the ball in toward the center of the pitch instead of out toward the sideline. There was a Tranformer there, a brief scuttle of a mess ensued at the edge of our box and the ball ended up in the goal. This also happens. Far more frequently.
Aside from those goals I couldn’t say either side had many noteworthy chances to score. As a matter of fact I can’t remember a single close call either way. It was that kind of match. They happen. Now and again.
Then the game was over.
Your ¡FUTURISMOS! have been bounced from the playoffs. The mediocrity of our season wasn’t as average as I’d believed because I confirmed with a CSC official after that we’d moved up a couple divisions from last season. So advancing to the semi-finals and basically playing .500 ball against considerably stiffer competition wasn’t so bad.
Sorry, ¡FUTURISMOS! Fans, there’s no real write-up this week. Apparently the Gods don’t me to spend any serious typing time on Transfomers because we played them back in Game 6 and I didn’t have time that week either.
All too appropriate (as in maybe the Gods really are at work here) because there wasn’t much to say. The weather was just this side of miserable: 50-degress, windy, and raining… at night. It was fine on the pitch while running around but miserable on the sideline standing still. Transformers scored twice, once each half.
The first was a routine save that Elliot was going to easily scoop up but a ¡FUTURISMO! defender—not knowing Elliot was all over it—stuck a foot in the way and the ball was redirected to the far post leaving Elliot out to dry (in the rain, no easy feat). Basically an own goal. It happens. Not often, but it happens.
The second goal wasn’t complete rubbish but it wasn’t anything to brag about either. A ¡FUTURISMO! defender turned the ball in toward the center of the pitch instead of out toward the sideline. There was a Tranformer there, a brief scuttle of a mess ensued at the edge of our box and the ball ended up in the goal. This also happens. Far more frequently.
Aside from those goals I couldn’t say either side had many noteworthy chances to score. As a matter of fact I can’t remember a single close call either way. It was that kind of match. They happen. Now and again.
Then the game was over.
Your ¡FUTURISMOS! have been bounced from the playoffs. The mediocrity of our season wasn’t as average as I’d believed because I confirmed with a CSC official after that we’d moved up a couple divisions from last season. So advancing to the semi-finals and basically playing .500 ball against considerably stiffer competition wasn’t so bad.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Season 7, Playoff Game 1: ¡FUTURISMOS! 2 — Nuts & Gum 1
¿Did Buddha Ever Call Someone An Asshole?
This is a serious question and I encourage anyone who’d like to discuss it to let me know and we can go out for an appropriate beverage.
Beyond a doubt there are people who are assholes in this world. Proper Aristotelian Theory of Forms Assholes, as opposed to Relativistic Assholes. In the later case people are assholes due to perceptual differences. For example Democrats can think Republicans are assholes based on nothing more than their political affiliation—and vice-verse, or course—but aside from that get along perfectly fine (see: James Carville and Mary Matalin). I’m not talking about Relativistic Assholes here. There’s no way Buddha call a Relativistic Asshole an asshole. That would clearly be falling for one of Lord Mara’s perceptual pratfalls.
For instance, I endlessly talk and sing while I’m playing or standing on the sidelines. [¿Who’s surprised?] It’s all completely random and very little has anything to do with the match. I keep it clean and save all my derision for Messi. So it’s innocuous but some people don’t see it that way. They perceive it as taunting and, as such, me as an asshole. Fair enough, I say, because even though I know they’re bothered I’m not going to stop because I know it’s harmless frivolity. I’m not responsible for everyone getting my sense of humor. So I’m a kind of asshole. Fine, but I doubt Buddha would call me out on it.
I’m talking about Aristotelian Theory of Forms Assholes. The kind of asshole who has it built into her or his DNA/soul. It’s part of their being in the same immutable way eye color is. It doesn’t matter how a neutral observer looks at it or feel about it, the person is an asshole.
¿So would Buddha have called an Aristotelian Theory of Forms Asshole an asshole? Not out of anger. Not out of spite. Just to call something by its proper name. No different than Buddha saying, “The first Noble Truth is all of life is suffering. The Earth goes around the Sun. And, by the way, Dick Cheney is an asshole.”
I don’t have an answer. That’s what we could discuss over a beverage. I suspect Buddha would not, though. So, Buddha, please forgive me my karmic trespass because this is an essential part of understanding how fulfilling this win was.
A certain member of Nuts & Gum as an outright, proper Aristotelian Theory of Forms Asshole. His Christian name shall not be spoken here but he does have a Nom de Futbol: Gollem. My first ever bad spirited Nom de Futbol. Painful, but true.
I identified Gollem’s potential Asshole-ness in our first game against Nuts & Gum this season. At the time I didn’t think it was Asshole-ness though, I thought he was just really un-fun. Perhaps one of those people who hates his life and futbol is his outlet for that frustration. Then we played him again when he subbed for another club we played and his nature as an Asshole was confirmed.
Here’s the only detailed account I’ll give you about his Assholiness so I can move on from this unpleasant businees.
We played Nuts & Gum back in game 2 of this season. They were going to be short a lady and we had a surplus so we loaned them Run MC for the match. We lost 2-3 in a good game and Run MC scored one of their goals. So not only did we loan them a player she scored in a game decided by a goal. Very sporting of us, I’d say.
This will sound mundane but it’s important. N&G wore white jerseys and we wore our customary Argentine Blue and White jerseys. [Check out the picture of Your ¡FUTURISMOS! in the upper right to see the jerseys in question.]
Our playoff match started with Gollem and me meeting at the center of the pitch with ref to do the pre-game “I want a good, clean, fun, match” thing. N&G’s regular season record was 5-1-1, ours was 2-3-2, so they were the home team and got to decide whether they wanted to start with the ball. Gollem let us start with the ball and then said, “there’s too much white in your shirt.” The ref said, “they’re the home team, so, ¿do you have other shirts you can wear?”
First of all, bullshit. I’ve NEVER heard this complaint before and we’ve played teams wearing white literally dozens of times. Second, ¡¡¡ASSHOLE!!! Last time we played we ¡¡LOANED THEM A PLAYER WHO SCORED THE WINNING GOAL AGAINST HER OWN TEAM!!! Seriously, ¡¿¡¿WTF?!?!
So even though I like N&G as a team—two of my favorite people play for them, Diosa and Photonicorn, and their keeper played with us once and is literally one of the nicest people I’ve played with (in my own defense I dedicated a short section to how much I liked them in the blog entry for game 2)—but I can’t get over the Gollem thing. I’m suspicious this is why Buddha wouldn’t call anyone an asshole, because he wouldn’t have cared enough to do so. Well, LO AND BEHOLD… turns out I’m not the reincarnation of the Buddha. Zagnut, I guess I can cross that career off the list.
So anyone who’s interested, let me know if you’d like to discuss this burning question of Buddhism.
And to the CSC officials who read the blog (that’s right, at least a couple do) feel free to punish me if this is considered an infraction of some CSC policy. Give me a blue card to start a game. Suspend me for the championship. Banish me from the league. I’m ready for my punishment… in addition to another round of life on Earth. Ugh.
¿Greatest Win In ¡FUTURISMOS! History?
How your ¡FUTURISMOS! made the playoffs this season is a mystery. With a 2-3-2 record we were either at the bottom of the middle or the top of the bottom of the league, depending on your perspective. There were 34 teams with a better record, 21 teams with worse records, and 1 with the same record. ¿Perhaps CSC had subscribed to their own version of grade inflation and let everyone into the “playoffs”? Nope. I checked.
The Fates are meticulous record keepers and no lucky break goes unbalanced. For our fortune they gave us a match against Nuts & Gum. They tied for the 3rd best record in the league and finished the regular season by shellacking the, at that point, undefeated We-Are-Awesome-O-5000s to the pasting of 6-2. It also meant we’d be without Diosa as a rule because N&G don’t have an army of ladies at their disposal. Of course, it can’t be overlooked, it also meant we’d be playing against Gollem.
I’m not generally inclined to walk around thinking, “I want to win our upcoming match.” I walk around thinking, “I hope our next match is fun. Like, really fun. Like when it’s over ¡SOLUSTRON! comes down to tell me, ‘That’s it. That’s the pinnacle of fun on Earth. ¿Do you want to come back with me now or play out the string on your life?’ I should peruse The White Stripes library to find a new song to sing and chant…”
For nearly two weeks (we had a week off because of Labor Day) I’ve been walking around saying, “Oh, Great Blue Sky, please grant us victory against N&G this week. Please. Seriously, pretty please. I’m not kidding. I’ll even forget the whole You Not Giving Me The Millennium Falcon thing from waaaaay back.” This line of thought got to a fever pitch where I disturbed myself with it and ultimately sat down and wrote my feelings on the subject longhand so as to track them back to their source and understand this desire in a new, less destructive, light. [It worked, by the way. Usually does.]
We played well against N&G back in game 2, it was arguably our best game of the season, and they still beat us without a lady sub when we had 2. I fully expected to loose this match. Oh, man, did I NOT want to, but ultimately some clubs are just better than others. It’s the law of the land. C’est la vie. They were 5-1-1 and scored a total of 31 goals. We were 2-3-2 and scored a total of 13. It doesn’t take a genius, you do the math.
¿So what outcome did you come up with, genius? Probably the same one I did.
After the match the first thing TB said to me, “Greatest win in ¡FUTURISMOS! history.”
Not our best match, ¿but our best win? I can’t argue with that.
And so beyond any logic known beyond the mind collective of The Fates, ¡SOLUSTRON!, and The Great Blue Sky, your ¡FUTURISMOS! have advanced in the playoffs.
[FOOTNOTE: I’m not sure whether it’s the semi-finals or finals next week. This was supposed to be a 10 game season and we’ve played 8. So there should be 2 games left, but you can’t have a 3-week playoff race without an odd number of teams. All of the top teams played playoff games so they didn’t get byes against non-playoff clubs. ¡DON’T PANIC! I’ll inquire with the CSC and invite everyone to the Finals if that’s next week or, if we advance, the week after.]
Roll Call
Ladies: die Kaiserin (Li’l Pete’s brand spankin’ new Nom de Futbol… more on this later), Zarate, Messi, and Run MC. Diosa was there but playing for Nuts & Gum. The Photonicorn, who’s played with us a couple times, was there but also playing for Nuts & Gum
Gentlemen: Elliot, TB, Heartbreaker, King Vidor, Touro, Big Pete, El Duque and Me.
Weather
The Great Blue Sky givith and then stuck around to take in her/his/its own glory. It was literally perfect. The sun was setting. It was 65-degrees with a light breeze. Cool enough to be cool but not cold. The air was dry. There were a smattering of clouds, like the cheongsams Maggie Cheung wore in Wong Kar-wai’s “In the Mood for Love,” a divine accoutrement for the innately resplendent.
That is to say the weather was very nice.
KICK OFF
The game started awkwardly because we had to deal with this last second jersey change. ¡FUTURISMOS! were shuffling on and off as the ref was trying to get things started. We looked ragtag with shirt colors ranging from black to brown to orange to green to blue to our actual jerseys. But after a few awkward seconds both teams settled in and the level play was high for both clubs.
From the get go there were close chances for both clubs and the ball pinged around the pitch from end to end. It was fun stuff.
¡N&G GOAL! A Tall Guy, I think (5th min): ¡F! 0 — N&G 1
N&G scored first and it was early. I can’t remember if a corner kick started this but the ball ended up bouncing around in front our goal and up being sent out, perhaps a ¡FUTURISMO! was clearing it and it was blocked, but the ball ended up finding its way to a N&G guy 20 yards out and he riffled a shot that ended up beating a diving Elliot inside the right post.
[FULL DISCLOSURE: I didn’t see it. At the moment the ball was kicked I’d looked away to say something to King Vidor. I’m told it was a great shot. I won’t dispute it.]
HALF TIME
That was the first half. Both teams played well. Like I said, the ball flew around and there were several near chances for both clubs. The mood was upbeat. Hey, we were huge underdogs and only down a goal at the half. Good deal.
¡F GOAL! TB (26th min): ¡F! 1 — N&G 1
TB is a steady goal scorer for us but he hadn’t scored all season. An accurate reflection of the team as a whole. To say TB picked a fine time to bag his first onion of the session is an understatement. To say he redefined the “nutmeg” is also an understatement.
In lingua futbol a “nutmeg” is when you kick the ball through someone’s legs. It’s one of the basic ways to get burned/burn someone. If you get nutmegged invariably someone will tease you about it. I guess it’s roughly the equivalent of shooting a free-throw air ball. Before I explain TB’s redefining the nutmeg I have to introduce you to another character.
There was a guy playing for N&G that wasn’t one of their regulars. He’s literally ALWAYS there though. I think he shows up when the first games of the day start and stays all day to sub for people or critique games. He’s a good natured guy and he sure pays attention because in the past he’s accurately called out some of the idiosyncrasies of our players to me while I was standing on the sideline and he’d never played against. He also thinks he’s AWESOME. He’s good—waaaaaaay better than I am—but not noticeably better than (or perhaps as good as) Elliot or Kaiserin.
The only thing that’s annoying is he’s the Hermione of the CSC. [That would make Diosa and me the Weasley Twins of the CSC and thus annoying in a different way.] He’s a know-it-all who’s always telling you what you should be doing differently and offering “helpful” criticisms. And he’ll freely critique you to someone else while you’re standing right next to him.
Don’t get me wrong, Dumbledore bless this man, because he’s jovial and highly interested. So I appreciate him and can overlook just about anything irritating about him (sort of like Diosa’s streaks where she won’t pass) but his Hermione-ness made TB’s Ultimate Nutmeg worthy of this lengthy description.
On to the play.
The ball was rolling toward the N&G keeper. Hermione was (legally) shielding it from TB, who was right on his back. The N&G keeper came up to kick the ball away but for some reason Hermione decided to carry it even though TB was behind him. It appeared Hermione was going to carry the ball all the way across the face of his own goal. You have to appreciate this: that’s not a violation of Futbol 101—it’s a violation of Futbol 1. It would be like shooting at your own goal/basket or returning a punt/kick the wrong way. I won’t even guess at what he was thinking.
So there was this frozen moment where the N&G keeper thought he was going to kick the ball and Hermione kept the ball and went past him and it seemed like he paused for an instant, ¿perhaps to set up a move?, but TB was right behind him. TB then poked his leg BETWEEN HERMIONE’S LEGS and kicked the ball into the N&G net from behind while the keeper was stuck where he thought he’d be kicking the ball away.
¡TB’S FIRST GOAL OF THE SEASON!
This has redefined the nutmegging. TB didn’t just kick the ball between a guy’s legs. From behind he kicked between a guy's legs to the ball that was in front of that guy and in so doing scored a goal to tie a playoff match. And that guy was a know-it-all who’s always lurking about to tell you what you’re doing wrong and criticize your own teammates to you.
That’s not a nutmeg, that a full on Eggnog.
Thank you, TB.
¡F GOAL! Kaiserin (40th min): ¡F! 2 — N&G 1
In the 30th minute die Kasierin called over the sideline to ask Run MC, “¿do you want to come in?” Run MC and I yelled back in unison, “¡NO!” Run MC then turned to me and said, “She should never come out. She’s the bedrock of our defense. We just aren’t the same without her.”
¡AMEN!
A minute later we’d earned a corner. TB launched a good ball into the N&G box, too far from the keeper to corral, and a N&G defender headed the ball away. As The Fates would have it not away enough. Die Kasierin, our central defender, was pushing up for the corner. The ball came bouncing toward her and she laid into it from 20-yards out.
The ball was upper-shin high when she hit it—an easy one to send to the moon—and between her and the goal was a mess of humanity. It was out of corner so there were at least 8 people in the box plus the keeper. How that ball found its way through that labyrinth of arms, legs, heads, torsos, and the left post only ¡SOLUSTRON! and The Great Blue Sky laugh about.
But just like Paris’ arrow found it’s way to Achilles heel with the help of Apollo’s guidance, die Kaiserin’s shot wended a path through a forest dancing in a tornado and safely home into the net.
¿Goal?
Nay.
¡GOAL!
I might be most closely associated with the ¡FUTURISMOS! but our most beloved player is Sarah Pollpeter. She is indisputably the heart of the team. I believe this was her third career goal. I remember the fist one vividly because I was standing 20 feet behind her when she scored it. It was similar to this one where she’d pressed up, found herself with the ball, and let fly from distance.
After that first goal she turned around, ran at me and literally leapt into my arms at centerfield. This time she kept running forward into a throng of ¡FUTURISMOS! and they were all yelping and bouncing up and down like a pack of elementary schoolers thrilled at the prospect of watching a movie in clas.
I’m telling ya’ll, The Great Blue Sky really was on hand for this match. Pollpeter has long been overdue for a better Nom de Futbol. I didn’t really give her Li’l Pete. She took it herself to distinguish herself from Big Pete.
So in recognition of Pollpeter’s stellar, bedrock defense and her timely critical goal scoring she’s being named after the greatest defender/goal scorer of them all: Franz “der Kaiser” Beckenbauer.
Ladies and gentlemen, I present, die Kaiserin (the Empress).
The Final 5 Minutes
¿What would a closely played critical game be without Elliot? A loss, of course, and this was no different.
The last 5 minutes were nuts-o. We almost scored a couple times on close calls (twice King Vidor found the wrong side of the post). But the last couple of minutes were a crucible. N&G pressed hard and had a handful of great chances to level.
The two highlights were a Gollem blast (the defender had correctly played him forcing him to the outside thereby decreasing the angle he had for the shot) headed for the upper right corner that a diving Elliot not only saved but held on to. The other was a full on melee where the ball was bouncing around in front of our goal and Elliot somehow managed to kick save a pointblank shot. That one elicited a relived sigh of “best keeper in the league” from TB who was standing next to me. No doubt about it.
FULL TIME
¿Championship Final Preview?
As I mentioned earlier I’m confused about whether next week really is the final, but I think it is. ¿And guess who I think we’re playing? We-Are-Awesome-O-5000s. That’s right, Carmichael’s de facto club and the one we beat last season for the championship. I’m not making this up. I couldn’t if I tried (that’s a lie).
Last season’s championship match was an acrimonious affaire. So awkward and bitter it was that I broke off friendly relations with them. All I’m saying is if your ¡FUTURISMOS! are playing the WAAO-5000s for the championship I want a minimum turnout of 20 fans. It’ll be crazy. ¿They’re actually our rival and we’d be facing them for the championship two seasons in row?
If The Great Blue Sky deigned to put this performance on for you the least you can do is show up. I won’t be taking attendance (that’s another lie) but you better believe ¡SOLUSTRON! will be.
Stay tuned.
This is a serious question and I encourage anyone who’d like to discuss it to let me know and we can go out for an appropriate beverage.
Beyond a doubt there are people who are assholes in this world. Proper Aristotelian Theory of Forms Assholes, as opposed to Relativistic Assholes. In the later case people are assholes due to perceptual differences. For example Democrats can think Republicans are assholes based on nothing more than their political affiliation—and vice-verse, or course—but aside from that get along perfectly fine (see: James Carville and Mary Matalin). I’m not talking about Relativistic Assholes here. There’s no way Buddha call a Relativistic Asshole an asshole. That would clearly be falling for one of Lord Mara’s perceptual pratfalls.
For instance, I endlessly talk and sing while I’m playing or standing on the sidelines. [¿Who’s surprised?] It’s all completely random and very little has anything to do with the match. I keep it clean and save all my derision for Messi. So it’s innocuous but some people don’t see it that way. They perceive it as taunting and, as such, me as an asshole. Fair enough, I say, because even though I know they’re bothered I’m not going to stop because I know it’s harmless frivolity. I’m not responsible for everyone getting my sense of humor. So I’m a kind of asshole. Fine, but I doubt Buddha would call me out on it.
I’m talking about Aristotelian Theory of Forms Assholes. The kind of asshole who has it built into her or his DNA/soul. It’s part of their being in the same immutable way eye color is. It doesn’t matter how a neutral observer looks at it or feel about it, the person is an asshole.
¿So would Buddha have called an Aristotelian Theory of Forms Asshole an asshole? Not out of anger. Not out of spite. Just to call something by its proper name. No different than Buddha saying, “The first Noble Truth is all of life is suffering. The Earth goes around the Sun. And, by the way, Dick Cheney is an asshole.”
I don’t have an answer. That’s what we could discuss over a beverage. I suspect Buddha would not, though. So, Buddha, please forgive me my karmic trespass because this is an essential part of understanding how fulfilling this win was.
A certain member of Nuts & Gum as an outright, proper Aristotelian Theory of Forms Asshole. His Christian name shall not be spoken here but he does have a Nom de Futbol: Gollem. My first ever bad spirited Nom de Futbol. Painful, but true.
I identified Gollem’s potential Asshole-ness in our first game against Nuts & Gum this season. At the time I didn’t think it was Asshole-ness though, I thought he was just really un-fun. Perhaps one of those people who hates his life and futbol is his outlet for that frustration. Then we played him again when he subbed for another club we played and his nature as an Asshole was confirmed.
Here’s the only detailed account I’ll give you about his Assholiness so I can move on from this unpleasant businees.
We played Nuts & Gum back in game 2 of this season. They were going to be short a lady and we had a surplus so we loaned them Run MC for the match. We lost 2-3 in a good game and Run MC scored one of their goals. So not only did we loan them a player she scored in a game decided by a goal. Very sporting of us, I’d say.
This will sound mundane but it’s important. N&G wore white jerseys and we wore our customary Argentine Blue and White jerseys. [Check out the picture of Your ¡FUTURISMOS! in the upper right to see the jerseys in question.]
Our playoff match started with Gollem and me meeting at the center of the pitch with ref to do the pre-game “I want a good, clean, fun, match” thing. N&G’s regular season record was 5-1-1, ours was 2-3-2, so they were the home team and got to decide whether they wanted to start with the ball. Gollem let us start with the ball and then said, “there’s too much white in your shirt.” The ref said, “they’re the home team, so, ¿do you have other shirts you can wear?”
First of all, bullshit. I’ve NEVER heard this complaint before and we’ve played teams wearing white literally dozens of times. Second, ¡¡¡ASSHOLE!!! Last time we played we ¡¡LOANED THEM A PLAYER WHO SCORED THE WINNING GOAL AGAINST HER OWN TEAM!!! Seriously, ¡¿¡¿WTF?!?!
So even though I like N&G as a team—two of my favorite people play for them, Diosa and Photonicorn, and their keeper played with us once and is literally one of the nicest people I’ve played with (in my own defense I dedicated a short section to how much I liked them in the blog entry for game 2)—but I can’t get over the Gollem thing. I’m suspicious this is why Buddha wouldn’t call anyone an asshole, because he wouldn’t have cared enough to do so. Well, LO AND BEHOLD… turns out I’m not the reincarnation of the Buddha. Zagnut, I guess I can cross that career off the list.
So anyone who’s interested, let me know if you’d like to discuss this burning question of Buddhism.
And to the CSC officials who read the blog (that’s right, at least a couple do) feel free to punish me if this is considered an infraction of some CSC policy. Give me a blue card to start a game. Suspend me for the championship. Banish me from the league. I’m ready for my punishment… in addition to another round of life on Earth. Ugh.
¿Greatest Win In ¡FUTURISMOS! History?
How your ¡FUTURISMOS! made the playoffs this season is a mystery. With a 2-3-2 record we were either at the bottom of the middle or the top of the bottom of the league, depending on your perspective. There were 34 teams with a better record, 21 teams with worse records, and 1 with the same record. ¿Perhaps CSC had subscribed to their own version of grade inflation and let everyone into the “playoffs”? Nope. I checked.
The Fates are meticulous record keepers and no lucky break goes unbalanced. For our fortune they gave us a match against Nuts & Gum. They tied for the 3rd best record in the league and finished the regular season by shellacking the, at that point, undefeated We-Are-Awesome-O-5000s to the pasting of 6-2. It also meant we’d be without Diosa as a rule because N&G don’t have an army of ladies at their disposal. Of course, it can’t be overlooked, it also meant we’d be playing against Gollem.
I’m not generally inclined to walk around thinking, “I want to win our upcoming match.” I walk around thinking, “I hope our next match is fun. Like, really fun. Like when it’s over ¡SOLUSTRON! comes down to tell me, ‘That’s it. That’s the pinnacle of fun on Earth. ¿Do you want to come back with me now or play out the string on your life?’ I should peruse The White Stripes library to find a new song to sing and chant…”
For nearly two weeks (we had a week off because of Labor Day) I’ve been walking around saying, “Oh, Great Blue Sky, please grant us victory against N&G this week. Please. Seriously, pretty please. I’m not kidding. I’ll even forget the whole You Not Giving Me The Millennium Falcon thing from waaaaay back.” This line of thought got to a fever pitch where I disturbed myself with it and ultimately sat down and wrote my feelings on the subject longhand so as to track them back to their source and understand this desire in a new, less destructive, light. [It worked, by the way. Usually does.]
We played well against N&G back in game 2, it was arguably our best game of the season, and they still beat us without a lady sub when we had 2. I fully expected to loose this match. Oh, man, did I NOT want to, but ultimately some clubs are just better than others. It’s the law of the land. C’est la vie. They were 5-1-1 and scored a total of 31 goals. We were 2-3-2 and scored a total of 13. It doesn’t take a genius, you do the math.
¿So what outcome did you come up with, genius? Probably the same one I did.
After the match the first thing TB said to me, “Greatest win in ¡FUTURISMOS! history.”
Not our best match, ¿but our best win? I can’t argue with that.
And so beyond any logic known beyond the mind collective of The Fates, ¡SOLUSTRON!, and The Great Blue Sky, your ¡FUTURISMOS! have advanced in the playoffs.
[FOOTNOTE: I’m not sure whether it’s the semi-finals or finals next week. This was supposed to be a 10 game season and we’ve played 8. So there should be 2 games left, but you can’t have a 3-week playoff race without an odd number of teams. All of the top teams played playoff games so they didn’t get byes against non-playoff clubs. ¡DON’T PANIC! I’ll inquire with the CSC and invite everyone to the Finals if that’s next week or, if we advance, the week after.]
Roll Call
Ladies: die Kaiserin (Li’l Pete’s brand spankin’ new Nom de Futbol… more on this later), Zarate, Messi, and Run MC. Diosa was there but playing for Nuts & Gum. The Photonicorn, who’s played with us a couple times, was there but also playing for Nuts & Gum
Gentlemen: Elliot, TB, Heartbreaker, King Vidor, Touro, Big Pete, El Duque and Me.
Weather
The Great Blue Sky givith and then stuck around to take in her/his/its own glory. It was literally perfect. The sun was setting. It was 65-degrees with a light breeze. Cool enough to be cool but not cold. The air was dry. There were a smattering of clouds, like the cheongsams Maggie Cheung wore in Wong Kar-wai’s “In the Mood for Love,” a divine accoutrement for the innately resplendent.
That is to say the weather was very nice.
KICK OFF
The game started awkwardly because we had to deal with this last second jersey change. ¡FUTURISMOS! were shuffling on and off as the ref was trying to get things started. We looked ragtag with shirt colors ranging from black to brown to orange to green to blue to our actual jerseys. But after a few awkward seconds both teams settled in and the level play was high for both clubs.
From the get go there were close chances for both clubs and the ball pinged around the pitch from end to end. It was fun stuff.
¡N&G GOAL! A Tall Guy, I think (5th min): ¡F! 0 — N&G 1
N&G scored first and it was early. I can’t remember if a corner kick started this but the ball ended up bouncing around in front our goal and up being sent out, perhaps a ¡FUTURISMO! was clearing it and it was blocked, but the ball ended up finding its way to a N&G guy 20 yards out and he riffled a shot that ended up beating a diving Elliot inside the right post.
[FULL DISCLOSURE: I didn’t see it. At the moment the ball was kicked I’d looked away to say something to King Vidor. I’m told it was a great shot. I won’t dispute it.]
HALF TIME
That was the first half. Both teams played well. Like I said, the ball flew around and there were several near chances for both clubs. The mood was upbeat. Hey, we were huge underdogs and only down a goal at the half. Good deal.
¡F GOAL! TB (26th min): ¡F! 1 — N&G 1
TB is a steady goal scorer for us but he hadn’t scored all season. An accurate reflection of the team as a whole. To say TB picked a fine time to bag his first onion of the session is an understatement. To say he redefined the “nutmeg” is also an understatement.
In lingua futbol a “nutmeg” is when you kick the ball through someone’s legs. It’s one of the basic ways to get burned/burn someone. If you get nutmegged invariably someone will tease you about it. I guess it’s roughly the equivalent of shooting a free-throw air ball. Before I explain TB’s redefining the nutmeg I have to introduce you to another character.
There was a guy playing for N&G that wasn’t one of their regulars. He’s literally ALWAYS there though. I think he shows up when the first games of the day start and stays all day to sub for people or critique games. He’s a good natured guy and he sure pays attention because in the past he’s accurately called out some of the idiosyncrasies of our players to me while I was standing on the sideline and he’d never played against. He also thinks he’s AWESOME. He’s good—waaaaaaay better than I am—but not noticeably better than (or perhaps as good as) Elliot or Kaiserin.
The only thing that’s annoying is he’s the Hermione of the CSC. [That would make Diosa and me the Weasley Twins of the CSC and thus annoying in a different way.] He’s a know-it-all who’s always telling you what you should be doing differently and offering “helpful” criticisms. And he’ll freely critique you to someone else while you’re standing right next to him.
Don’t get me wrong, Dumbledore bless this man, because he’s jovial and highly interested. So I appreciate him and can overlook just about anything irritating about him (sort of like Diosa’s streaks where she won’t pass) but his Hermione-ness made TB’s Ultimate Nutmeg worthy of this lengthy description.
On to the play.
The ball was rolling toward the N&G keeper. Hermione was (legally) shielding it from TB, who was right on his back. The N&G keeper came up to kick the ball away but for some reason Hermione decided to carry it even though TB was behind him. It appeared Hermione was going to carry the ball all the way across the face of his own goal. You have to appreciate this: that’s not a violation of Futbol 101—it’s a violation of Futbol 1. It would be like shooting at your own goal/basket or returning a punt/kick the wrong way. I won’t even guess at what he was thinking.
So there was this frozen moment where the N&G keeper thought he was going to kick the ball and Hermione kept the ball and went past him and it seemed like he paused for an instant, ¿perhaps to set up a move?, but TB was right behind him. TB then poked his leg BETWEEN HERMIONE’S LEGS and kicked the ball into the N&G net from behind while the keeper was stuck where he thought he’d be kicking the ball away.
¡TB’S FIRST GOAL OF THE SEASON!
This has redefined the nutmegging. TB didn’t just kick the ball between a guy’s legs. From behind he kicked between a guy's legs to the ball that was in front of that guy and in so doing scored a goal to tie a playoff match. And that guy was a know-it-all who’s always lurking about to tell you what you’re doing wrong and criticize your own teammates to you.
That’s not a nutmeg, that a full on Eggnog.
Thank you, TB.
¡F GOAL! Kaiserin (40th min): ¡F! 2 — N&G 1
In the 30th minute die Kasierin called over the sideline to ask Run MC, “¿do you want to come in?” Run MC and I yelled back in unison, “¡NO!” Run MC then turned to me and said, “She should never come out. She’s the bedrock of our defense. We just aren’t the same without her.”
¡AMEN!
A minute later we’d earned a corner. TB launched a good ball into the N&G box, too far from the keeper to corral, and a N&G defender headed the ball away. As The Fates would have it not away enough. Die Kasierin, our central defender, was pushing up for the corner. The ball came bouncing toward her and she laid into it from 20-yards out.
The ball was upper-shin high when she hit it—an easy one to send to the moon—and between her and the goal was a mess of humanity. It was out of corner so there were at least 8 people in the box plus the keeper. How that ball found its way through that labyrinth of arms, legs, heads, torsos, and the left post only ¡SOLUSTRON! and The Great Blue Sky laugh about.
But just like Paris’ arrow found it’s way to Achilles heel with the help of Apollo’s guidance, die Kaiserin’s shot wended a path through a forest dancing in a tornado and safely home into the net.
¿Goal?
Nay.
¡GOAL!
I might be most closely associated with the ¡FUTURISMOS! but our most beloved player is Sarah Pollpeter. She is indisputably the heart of the team. I believe this was her third career goal. I remember the fist one vividly because I was standing 20 feet behind her when she scored it. It was similar to this one where she’d pressed up, found herself with the ball, and let fly from distance.
After that first goal she turned around, ran at me and literally leapt into my arms at centerfield. This time she kept running forward into a throng of ¡FUTURISMOS! and they were all yelping and bouncing up and down like a pack of elementary schoolers thrilled at the prospect of watching a movie in clas.
I’m telling ya’ll, The Great Blue Sky really was on hand for this match. Pollpeter has long been overdue for a better Nom de Futbol. I didn’t really give her Li’l Pete. She took it herself to distinguish herself from Big Pete.
So in recognition of Pollpeter’s stellar, bedrock defense and her timely critical goal scoring she’s being named after the greatest defender/goal scorer of them all: Franz “der Kaiser” Beckenbauer.
Ladies and gentlemen, I present, die Kaiserin (the Empress).
The Final 5 Minutes
¿What would a closely played critical game be without Elliot? A loss, of course, and this was no different.
The last 5 minutes were nuts-o. We almost scored a couple times on close calls (twice King Vidor found the wrong side of the post). But the last couple of minutes were a crucible. N&G pressed hard and had a handful of great chances to level.
The two highlights were a Gollem blast (the defender had correctly played him forcing him to the outside thereby decreasing the angle he had for the shot) headed for the upper right corner that a diving Elliot not only saved but held on to. The other was a full on melee where the ball was bouncing around in front of our goal and Elliot somehow managed to kick save a pointblank shot. That one elicited a relived sigh of “best keeper in the league” from TB who was standing next to me. No doubt about it.
FULL TIME
¿Championship Final Preview?
As I mentioned earlier I’m confused about whether next week really is the final, but I think it is. ¿And guess who I think we’re playing? We-Are-Awesome-O-5000s. That’s right, Carmichael’s de facto club and the one we beat last season for the championship. I’m not making this up. I couldn’t if I tried (that’s a lie).
Last season’s championship match was an acrimonious affaire. So awkward and bitter it was that I broke off friendly relations with them. All I’m saying is if your ¡FUTURISMOS! are playing the WAAO-5000s for the championship I want a minimum turnout of 20 fans. It’ll be crazy. ¿They’re actually our rival and we’d be facing them for the championship two seasons in row?
If The Great Blue Sky deigned to put this performance on for you the least you can do is show up. I won’t be taking attendance (that’s another lie) but you better believe ¡SOLUSTRON! will be.
Stay tuned.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Game 7: ¡FUTURISMOS! 2 — Double Ataris 1
News of the Weird: The Absolute Limits of the Absolute
Game 7 concluded of the 7th regular season for your ¡FUTURISMOS! and we finished with a less than shinny 2-3-2 record. Record wise that either put us at the top of the bottom or the bottom of the middle of the league, depending how you spin it. In terms of play this was our third best season: last season being the best and Season 3 second (that was the magical summer of 2007 where we ended on that stunning tear where we went from being among the dregs to pushing the eventual champion to a crazy 5-6 heartbreaking loss thriller).
I was literally 100% certain we’d be playing 3 post-season consolation games—the un-playoffs—just like every season save the last. I wasn’t exactly disappointed in that fact, per se, except that it was appropriate considering the regression in our play this season. Record aside, we didn’t play well enough in Season 7 to make the playoffs.
The first rule of physics is even absolutes aren’t technically absolute. They’re only correct to such a towering degree that they are for all intents and purposes “absolute.” But as sure as hipsters hate Star Wars Episodes I, II, and III as though they’re one big undifferentiated movie even the rock solidest of truths can, if only for a critical instant, transmogrify into a gelatinous sieve. So tread lightly and believe nothing with 100% certainty.
Case in point—your ¡FUTURISMOS! made the playoffs. I know what you’re thinking, “¿Huh?” So am I (yes, I double checked, not all teams made the playoffs). Not only that but our first opponent is Nuts & Gum, who finished 6th in the league with a 5-1-1 record but against whom we played one of our best (and most fun) games of the season, loosing 2-3.
So sometimes a cigar is just a cigar but other times it’s a port key and once you pluck it up for a puff you find yourself spinning through an inter-dimensional tunnel and tumbling down the English countryside surrounded by witches and wizards. Welcome to the quantum mechanical jungle.
Kissing Cousins: The Double Ataris
The final regular season game of our 7th season was our first ever against our cousin club, the Double Ataris. The DA skipper is King Vidor and over the last couple seasons most of the ¡FUTURISMOS! have played on DA and vice versa. When I saw this game on the schedule 6 weeks ago I circled the date on my calendar and wrote “Best Day Ever” on it.
While it fell short of that lofty distinction it did live up to “This Game is a Good Example of Why I Play.” I’ve mentioned how much I enjoy playing against friends in the past so I won’t belabor it here, but there’s just something about it. You simultaneously want to beat them worse than strangers AND laugh about it with each other—regardless of the score—all the while. Existing in that kind of extreme divide, if only for an hour, reminds one of awesome power of the mind.
If I could sign up for a league where I play the DAs every other week I would.
Roll Call
Gents: Elliot, Heartbreaker, Me, El Duque, Big Pete, Touro. King Vidor was there but played with DA, as he should have as their founder and captain. He talked about playing a half for each team but I squashed it. Playing with his brainchild was fair play.
Ladies: Zarate, Run MC, Li’l Pete, Messi, Photonicorn (aka Divine Light). Diosa was on hand but played with DA because they were short ladies and we had a surplus. Also fair play.
Perfect turnout (in terms of the ideal number of people: 5 ladies, 5 gents, and a keeper) with the added bonus of the surprise and much appreciated reappearance of Big Pete. ¿How excited were your we? When Elliot, not known for his ebullient outbursts, saw him he honestly blurted, “¡PETE! I can’t believe you’re here. Man, it’s great to see you.”
Indeed.
KICK OFF
I went into this game fully expecting DA to kick our heads until the white meat show (RIP Bernie Mac). That was a fair prediction considering they were league champions last season of a division above ours. But The Great Blue Sky was on hand in all of its beatific glory to breathe pep into the legs and minds of your ¡FUTURISMOS! The player movement was excellent. The passing was crisp and consistent. The defense was alternately smothering and pesky forcing DA into shots that required only pedestrian saves from Elliot.
We were on things in the first half.
¡GOAL… DISALLOWED! Heartbreaker (10th min)
From 15-yards out to the left of the DA goal Heartbreaker chipped in a shot. John, the DA Keeper, backpedaled, leapt backwards, tipped the ball with his fingers, and it ended up trickling into the net.
¡GOAL!
The ref took out his book to log the goal, the ball was plucked from inside the net, players from both teams headed back toward the middle of the pitch to reset play.
But no… it was disallowed.
I looked up to see Anakin (a DA guy) shaking his head “no” and John indicating with his hands that he’d tipped the ball with his fingers. A small wave of confusion washed over the pitch for both teams. ¿What happened? For all the world it appeared the ball was tipped by John but fell under the cross bar into the goal. Ultimately the ruling was the ball went over the bar but it was definitely taken out from inside the goal so apparently there was a hole in the net or wormhole. Yet another of the admittedly petty instances where I wish The Great Blue sky was more responsive to my inquiries.
Alas, it is not and likely won’t be anytime soon. So we move on.
¡FUTURISMOS GOAL! Touro (18th min): ¡F! 1 – DA 0
Sorry, I have to belabor this point once again—I love playing with Touro (almost as much as Diosa… there, I said it). He’s like playing with a giant, athletic, good-natured, exuberant kid who wants nothing more than to contribute. He doesn’t care what position he plays, he just wants to play.
As such he’s also amendable to suggestions. For instance, late in the second half he was on the pitch and the ball went out for a ¡FUTURISMOS! throw in. Zarate grabbed the ball and was looking for someone to throw it to. She was right next to our sideline and several us told her, “throw it to Touro.” He was right in the middle of the pitch 20-feet from her. I looked up from Zarate at Touro who stood there ready for the ball. I yelled, “¡Touro, get your hands up!” and without hesitation he threw both hands straight up in the air like a grade-schooler who couldn’t wait for the teacher to call on him.
Another suggestion was “shoot more.” As a team we don’t take enough shots. I’m not sure why but it’s like we think shots should only be taken from inside the opposition’s box when in reality the go zone is more like twice that area. So we told Touro “shoot more” and he took it to heart.
At least 10 times he blasted a shot full force into a DA defender standing no more than 5-feet away. It was like his plan was to batter their defenders with a barrage of crippling volleys since he couldn’t knock them down with his body he’d do it with the ball. True to Edison’s dictum “Success is 10 percent inspiration and 90 percent perspiration” Touro’s Goal Through Attrition plan worked (by the bye to all ¡FUTURISMOS! that’s universally true, not just for Touro, don’t tell our opponents).
One of Touro’s attempts to maim a defender with the ball was launched from just outside the DA box to the right of the goal, it eluded its intended target (the defender), and found its way into the lower left side of the goal.
¡GOAL!
Ladies, Gentlemen, Gods, Goddesses, Non-Humans of all Type, and Young People, I present Touro’s first ¡FUTURISMOS! goal. It was classic Touro through and through.
HALF TIME
There were two topics of discussion at the half. The first was how well we were playing. We’d played really well. The second was how Photonicorn had twice had something just shy of an open goal situation to score and instead sent the ball on ill-fated attempts to leave Earth’s orbit. She really did balloon a couple gimmies. In her defense both instances she was on the run and had to one-touch the ball with her left (wrong) foot. But she doesn’t need defense because this isn’t an inquest. Everyone tries to send the ball to the Moon now and again. Just ask Heartbreaker and the kid he tried to kill a couple weeks ago.
SECOND HALF
As is usually the case The Great Blue Sky wants to see a different show after the half and this was no different. We still played well but DA played even better. I don’t remember them having any agonizingly near miss goal chances in the first half. I lost count of how many they had in the second. They had cross after cross perfectly sent through the box only to find no willing foot to redirect it into the waiting goal. We dodged enough bullets for it to have been a Looney Tunes cartoon.
¡FUTURISMOS GOAL! Messi (29th min): ¡F! 2 — DA 0
Running against the flow play we scored first in the second half.
I’m going to apologize to all the parties involved in this one because I’m writing this a full 3 days after the match (sorry, had to travel for work) and I scarcely understood what happened at the time anyway. So there may be amendments to this section.
To the best of my recollection John, DA Keeper, ended up with the ball at his feet in the box. I think he tried to carry (that is run with) it up the pitch a little rather than just pass or boot it away. Either he didn’t see Run MC or underestimated her defensive abilities because they tangled out of which Run MC ended up with the ball and no keeper in front of her.
Again, I’m not sure why this happened, but Run MC ended up passing the ball to Messi, who was only a few feet to her left (maybe Run MC was caught up with John and had enough balance to flick the ball away but not to take a shot). Messi did what the Messi’s do and converted and opportunity into a goal.
Messi was apologetic about the goal after the match. “I didn’t even do anything. I got the ball and all I had to do was shoot straight.” Well, take it from someone who often can’t shoot straight, it may not be bending a free kick around the wall into the corner from 30 meters, but it isn’t nothing either.
¡DA GOAL! Anakin (34th min): ¡F! 2 — DA1
I mentioned we dodged a bevy of second half bullets. This is the one we couldn’t get clear of.
I was playing right back, Big Pete was playing center back, and Zarate was left back. The person I was defending (Diosa, I think) managed to send a moderately paced cross rolling through the box roughly 10 feet from the face of the goal. I turned around to watch the ball roll toward Big Pete. It was actually rolling slowly enough that I could have chased it down. I didn’t. Mistake 1.
The ball reached Big Pete and Zarate was coming round his should from the weak side. Maybe he thought I was going to step to it. Maybe he though Zarate was going to get it. Whatever he was thinking he let it roll by. Mistake 2.
Zarate was probably looking at me and Big Pete thinking, “¿why aren’t either one of those guys doing something about this ball rolling in front of our goal?” And being lost in thought she too let the ball pass. Mistake 3.
The ball then found it’s way to the foot of Anakin who absolutely rifled it into the lower right corner just past a diving Elliot. It was a killer shot that shouldn’t have happened because all three defenders had a chance to clear the ball and didn’t. It was weird but fitting that they scored this way because in exchange for this one strange chance they converted they had countless other un-weird ones they didn’t. A good trade on our part. ¿I wonder how we did that?
Play of the Game: Elliot’s Bullet Time Ninja Reflexive Kick Save
Anakin’s goal was the bullet we couldn’t dodge. This was the heavy artillery barrage that The Great Blue Sky sent ¡SOLUSTRON! to cast a magic force field to save us from.
The play begins to the right of our goal. A DA took a shot that Elliot saved but couldn’t control. The ball dribbled out to the right of the goal and our defenders went after it. A DA got to it first and passed it to another DA guy who was all alone standing 6 feet from the center of our goal. He teed up like he was going to shoot to the right of Elliot, who flinched to the right. Instead of shooting the DA guy tapped the ball to his left where another DA guy was waiting and he blasted the shot toward the lower left.
Keep in mind Elliot is falling away from this shot because it’s the opposite direction of the faked shot. Like something out of heavy special effects martial arts movie Elliot kicked his legs out from underneath himself and shot them out in the opposite direction of the way he was falling and deflected the shot. It bounced high in the air away from the goal and when it landed a ¡FUTURISMO! (I think it was Zarate, but I might be wrong) was waiting and booted it safely away ending the threat.
I’m telling you no amount description can do this justice. So when you get a chance, try it, probably on your bed or one of those tumbling mats from elementary school. Dive one direction then midway down kick your legs out and extend them as far as they’ll go the opposite way. I can’t even do it in my mind. Elliot can do it in reality and it saved the game.
My Own Personal Faustian Moment: BFF Fast Break Pluto Exploration
I don’t know that Dr. Faust would have traded his soul for this because it might be too much of an insider story but I would and I’m writing this so in it goes.
Run MC stole the ball at midfield, bursting between two DA’s, and found herself a clear path to the goal. She took of with both DA defenders in her wake flanking her on either side. It looked like she had a protective escort to the goal. Of course the DA defenders had the opposite intent and it was going to be a tough shot for Run MC because she was on the dead fly with defenders jostling her on both sides.
As ¡SOLUSTRON! would have it Run MC’s hand’s down best friend in the world was playing left forward. Photonicorn and Run MC have been friends for literally 20 years. She’s going to be the Maid of Honor in Run MC’s wedding in a couple weeks and was selected for that distinction over Run MC’s sister who’s only a year her junior and they’re very close to boot. So when I say they’re “best friends” I’m not using that term lightly. They’re the best best friends I’ve ever known.
So there they are, Best Friends Forever, conducting a 2-on-none fast break. It was like a scene in a movie. This goal would seal the game and it was against what would have to be considered the ¡FUTURISMOS! best friend club. It was all too perfect.
Too perfect indeed.
Run MC carried the ball all the way to the DA box forcing John to commit to stopping her. She then laid a perfect ball off to Photonicorn and all she had to do was tap the ball home. ¿Have I already mentioned Photonicorn is right-footed and she was playing left forward? That means the shot was most likely going to have to be with her left foot… and it was with her left foot that she attempted to send the ball on the first human powered flight to Pluto to determine once and for all whether it should be classified as a planet or moon.
Unfortunately the mission failed and the ball fell short of its roughly 3-ish billion mile journey to Pluto after traveling roughly 50 feet and landing the parking lot. Had Lucifer been standing nearby I would have yelled “¡STOP!” and traded my soul for that sequence on the spot.
No worries, Photonicorn. Take a page from Touro’s book and keep firing away at the stars because the law of averages dictates one of those blasts will land in the goal.
Zarate’s Divine Compliment
Zarate’s complement starts with Diosa burning me as badly as I’ve ever been. I was defending Diosa on the right side. Her primary move is a combination change of pace with a faked shot that she turns into a pivot to head in the opposite direction. I’ve played Diosa and bit on this fake enough to know better and I haven’t let her burn me with it for quite some time.
So Diosa was moving toward our end line and she slowed down and made like she was going to pass the ball toward the goal. Here ‘s what my brain said to me, “My ¡SOLUSTRON! she’s crossing the ball… ¡JUMP!” So I did and, of course, she calmly tapped the ball back in the opposite direction and started dribbling away from me.
As soon as I landed I hustled back toward her. As I approached she slowed down and made like she was going to pass the ball toward the goal. Here's what my brain said to me, “My ¡SOLUSTRON! she’s really crossing the ball this time… ¡JUMP!” So I did and, of course, she calmly tapped the ball back toward the end line, took a couple steps and had all the time in the world to calmly deliver one of the crosses we were lucky did no damage.
¿Where was I while Diosa was leisurely setting up the potential game tying goal? Apparently I felt bad that Photonicorn’s futbol mission to Pluto had failed so I tried it again with my body. I’m not even sure my feet were on the ground yet when she passed the ball.
Diosa and I talked about this sequence after the game and she punctuated it with this. “I like playing against you because I can get around you. I don’t like playing against Zarate because I just can’t get around her. She just keeps moving her feet with her eye on the ball. She never falls for any of that junk you’ll jump out of your shoes for.”
There you go, Zarate, high praise from someone with a divine Nom de Futbol. That’s as close to wink and nudge from ¡SOLUSTRON! as you’re going to get. ¡Enjoy!
Game 7 concluded of the 7th regular season for your ¡FUTURISMOS! and we finished with a less than shinny 2-3-2 record. Record wise that either put us at the top of the bottom or the bottom of the middle of the league, depending how you spin it. In terms of play this was our third best season: last season being the best and Season 3 second (that was the magical summer of 2007 where we ended on that stunning tear where we went from being among the dregs to pushing the eventual champion to a crazy 5-6 heartbreaking loss thriller).
I was literally 100% certain we’d be playing 3 post-season consolation games—the un-playoffs—just like every season save the last. I wasn’t exactly disappointed in that fact, per se, except that it was appropriate considering the regression in our play this season. Record aside, we didn’t play well enough in Season 7 to make the playoffs.
The first rule of physics is even absolutes aren’t technically absolute. They’re only correct to such a towering degree that they are for all intents and purposes “absolute.” But as sure as hipsters hate Star Wars Episodes I, II, and III as though they’re one big undifferentiated movie even the rock solidest of truths can, if only for a critical instant, transmogrify into a gelatinous sieve. So tread lightly and believe nothing with 100% certainty.
Case in point—your ¡FUTURISMOS! made the playoffs. I know what you’re thinking, “¿Huh?” So am I (yes, I double checked, not all teams made the playoffs). Not only that but our first opponent is Nuts & Gum, who finished 6th in the league with a 5-1-1 record but against whom we played one of our best (and most fun) games of the season, loosing 2-3.
So sometimes a cigar is just a cigar but other times it’s a port key and once you pluck it up for a puff you find yourself spinning through an inter-dimensional tunnel and tumbling down the English countryside surrounded by witches and wizards. Welcome to the quantum mechanical jungle.
Kissing Cousins: The Double Ataris
The final regular season game of our 7th season was our first ever against our cousin club, the Double Ataris. The DA skipper is King Vidor and over the last couple seasons most of the ¡FUTURISMOS! have played on DA and vice versa. When I saw this game on the schedule 6 weeks ago I circled the date on my calendar and wrote “Best Day Ever” on it.
While it fell short of that lofty distinction it did live up to “This Game is a Good Example of Why I Play.” I’ve mentioned how much I enjoy playing against friends in the past so I won’t belabor it here, but there’s just something about it. You simultaneously want to beat them worse than strangers AND laugh about it with each other—regardless of the score—all the while. Existing in that kind of extreme divide, if only for an hour, reminds one of awesome power of the mind.
If I could sign up for a league where I play the DAs every other week I would.
Roll Call
Gents: Elliot, Heartbreaker, Me, El Duque, Big Pete, Touro. King Vidor was there but played with DA, as he should have as their founder and captain. He talked about playing a half for each team but I squashed it. Playing with his brainchild was fair play.
Ladies: Zarate, Run MC, Li’l Pete, Messi, Photonicorn (aka Divine Light). Diosa was on hand but played with DA because they were short ladies and we had a surplus. Also fair play.
Perfect turnout (in terms of the ideal number of people: 5 ladies, 5 gents, and a keeper) with the added bonus of the surprise and much appreciated reappearance of Big Pete. ¿How excited were your we? When Elliot, not known for his ebullient outbursts, saw him he honestly blurted, “¡PETE! I can’t believe you’re here. Man, it’s great to see you.”
Indeed.
KICK OFF
I went into this game fully expecting DA to kick our heads until the white meat show (RIP Bernie Mac). That was a fair prediction considering they were league champions last season of a division above ours. But The Great Blue Sky was on hand in all of its beatific glory to breathe pep into the legs and minds of your ¡FUTURISMOS! The player movement was excellent. The passing was crisp and consistent. The defense was alternately smothering and pesky forcing DA into shots that required only pedestrian saves from Elliot.
We were on things in the first half.
¡GOAL… DISALLOWED! Heartbreaker (10th min)
From 15-yards out to the left of the DA goal Heartbreaker chipped in a shot. John, the DA Keeper, backpedaled, leapt backwards, tipped the ball with his fingers, and it ended up trickling into the net.
¡GOAL!
The ref took out his book to log the goal, the ball was plucked from inside the net, players from both teams headed back toward the middle of the pitch to reset play.
But no… it was disallowed.
I looked up to see Anakin (a DA guy) shaking his head “no” and John indicating with his hands that he’d tipped the ball with his fingers. A small wave of confusion washed over the pitch for both teams. ¿What happened? For all the world it appeared the ball was tipped by John but fell under the cross bar into the goal. Ultimately the ruling was the ball went over the bar but it was definitely taken out from inside the goal so apparently there was a hole in the net or wormhole. Yet another of the admittedly petty instances where I wish The Great Blue sky was more responsive to my inquiries.
Alas, it is not and likely won’t be anytime soon. So we move on.
¡FUTURISMOS GOAL! Touro (18th min): ¡F! 1 – DA 0
Sorry, I have to belabor this point once again—I love playing with Touro (almost as much as Diosa… there, I said it). He’s like playing with a giant, athletic, good-natured, exuberant kid who wants nothing more than to contribute. He doesn’t care what position he plays, he just wants to play.
As such he’s also amendable to suggestions. For instance, late in the second half he was on the pitch and the ball went out for a ¡FUTURISMOS! throw in. Zarate grabbed the ball and was looking for someone to throw it to. She was right next to our sideline and several us told her, “throw it to Touro.” He was right in the middle of the pitch 20-feet from her. I looked up from Zarate at Touro who stood there ready for the ball. I yelled, “¡Touro, get your hands up!” and without hesitation he threw both hands straight up in the air like a grade-schooler who couldn’t wait for the teacher to call on him.
Another suggestion was “shoot more.” As a team we don’t take enough shots. I’m not sure why but it’s like we think shots should only be taken from inside the opposition’s box when in reality the go zone is more like twice that area. So we told Touro “shoot more” and he took it to heart.
At least 10 times he blasted a shot full force into a DA defender standing no more than 5-feet away. It was like his plan was to batter their defenders with a barrage of crippling volleys since he couldn’t knock them down with his body he’d do it with the ball. True to Edison’s dictum “Success is 10 percent inspiration and 90 percent perspiration” Touro’s Goal Through Attrition plan worked (by the bye to all ¡FUTURISMOS! that’s universally true, not just for Touro, don’t tell our opponents).
One of Touro’s attempts to maim a defender with the ball was launched from just outside the DA box to the right of the goal, it eluded its intended target (the defender), and found its way into the lower left side of the goal.
¡GOAL!
Ladies, Gentlemen, Gods, Goddesses, Non-Humans of all Type, and Young People, I present Touro’s first ¡FUTURISMOS! goal. It was classic Touro through and through.
HALF TIME
There were two topics of discussion at the half. The first was how well we were playing. We’d played really well. The second was how Photonicorn had twice had something just shy of an open goal situation to score and instead sent the ball on ill-fated attempts to leave Earth’s orbit. She really did balloon a couple gimmies. In her defense both instances she was on the run and had to one-touch the ball with her left (wrong) foot. But she doesn’t need defense because this isn’t an inquest. Everyone tries to send the ball to the Moon now and again. Just ask Heartbreaker and the kid he tried to kill a couple weeks ago.
SECOND HALF
As is usually the case The Great Blue Sky wants to see a different show after the half and this was no different. We still played well but DA played even better. I don’t remember them having any agonizingly near miss goal chances in the first half. I lost count of how many they had in the second. They had cross after cross perfectly sent through the box only to find no willing foot to redirect it into the waiting goal. We dodged enough bullets for it to have been a Looney Tunes cartoon.
¡FUTURISMOS GOAL! Messi (29th min): ¡F! 2 — DA 0
Running against the flow play we scored first in the second half.
I’m going to apologize to all the parties involved in this one because I’m writing this a full 3 days after the match (sorry, had to travel for work) and I scarcely understood what happened at the time anyway. So there may be amendments to this section.
To the best of my recollection John, DA Keeper, ended up with the ball at his feet in the box. I think he tried to carry (that is run with) it up the pitch a little rather than just pass or boot it away. Either he didn’t see Run MC or underestimated her defensive abilities because they tangled out of which Run MC ended up with the ball and no keeper in front of her.
Again, I’m not sure why this happened, but Run MC ended up passing the ball to Messi, who was only a few feet to her left (maybe Run MC was caught up with John and had enough balance to flick the ball away but not to take a shot). Messi did what the Messi’s do and converted and opportunity into a goal.
Messi was apologetic about the goal after the match. “I didn’t even do anything. I got the ball and all I had to do was shoot straight.” Well, take it from someone who often can’t shoot straight, it may not be bending a free kick around the wall into the corner from 30 meters, but it isn’t nothing either.
¡DA GOAL! Anakin (34th min): ¡F! 2 — DA1
I mentioned we dodged a bevy of second half bullets. This is the one we couldn’t get clear of.
I was playing right back, Big Pete was playing center back, and Zarate was left back. The person I was defending (Diosa, I think) managed to send a moderately paced cross rolling through the box roughly 10 feet from the face of the goal. I turned around to watch the ball roll toward Big Pete. It was actually rolling slowly enough that I could have chased it down. I didn’t. Mistake 1.
The ball reached Big Pete and Zarate was coming round his should from the weak side. Maybe he thought I was going to step to it. Maybe he though Zarate was going to get it. Whatever he was thinking he let it roll by. Mistake 2.
Zarate was probably looking at me and Big Pete thinking, “¿why aren’t either one of those guys doing something about this ball rolling in front of our goal?” And being lost in thought she too let the ball pass. Mistake 3.
The ball then found it’s way to the foot of Anakin who absolutely rifled it into the lower right corner just past a diving Elliot. It was a killer shot that shouldn’t have happened because all three defenders had a chance to clear the ball and didn’t. It was weird but fitting that they scored this way because in exchange for this one strange chance they converted they had countless other un-weird ones they didn’t. A good trade on our part. ¿I wonder how we did that?
Play of the Game: Elliot’s Bullet Time Ninja Reflexive Kick Save
Anakin’s goal was the bullet we couldn’t dodge. This was the heavy artillery barrage that The Great Blue Sky sent ¡SOLUSTRON! to cast a magic force field to save us from.
The play begins to the right of our goal. A DA took a shot that Elliot saved but couldn’t control. The ball dribbled out to the right of the goal and our defenders went after it. A DA got to it first and passed it to another DA guy who was all alone standing 6 feet from the center of our goal. He teed up like he was going to shoot to the right of Elliot, who flinched to the right. Instead of shooting the DA guy tapped the ball to his left where another DA guy was waiting and he blasted the shot toward the lower left.
Keep in mind Elliot is falling away from this shot because it’s the opposite direction of the faked shot. Like something out of heavy special effects martial arts movie Elliot kicked his legs out from underneath himself and shot them out in the opposite direction of the way he was falling and deflected the shot. It bounced high in the air away from the goal and when it landed a ¡FUTURISMO! (I think it was Zarate, but I might be wrong) was waiting and booted it safely away ending the threat.
I’m telling you no amount description can do this justice. So when you get a chance, try it, probably on your bed or one of those tumbling mats from elementary school. Dive one direction then midway down kick your legs out and extend them as far as they’ll go the opposite way. I can’t even do it in my mind. Elliot can do it in reality and it saved the game.
FULL TIME
My Own Personal Faustian Moment: BFF Fast Break Pluto Exploration
I don’t know that Dr. Faust would have traded his soul for this because it might be too much of an insider story but I would and I’m writing this so in it goes.
Run MC stole the ball at midfield, bursting between two DA’s, and found herself a clear path to the goal. She took of with both DA defenders in her wake flanking her on either side. It looked like she had a protective escort to the goal. Of course the DA defenders had the opposite intent and it was going to be a tough shot for Run MC because she was on the dead fly with defenders jostling her on both sides.
As ¡SOLUSTRON! would have it Run MC’s hand’s down best friend in the world was playing left forward. Photonicorn and Run MC have been friends for literally 20 years. She’s going to be the Maid of Honor in Run MC’s wedding in a couple weeks and was selected for that distinction over Run MC’s sister who’s only a year her junior and they’re very close to boot. So when I say they’re “best friends” I’m not using that term lightly. They’re the best best friends I’ve ever known.
So there they are, Best Friends Forever, conducting a 2-on-none fast break. It was like a scene in a movie. This goal would seal the game and it was against what would have to be considered the ¡FUTURISMOS! best friend club. It was all too perfect.
Too perfect indeed.
Run MC carried the ball all the way to the DA box forcing John to commit to stopping her. She then laid a perfect ball off to Photonicorn and all she had to do was tap the ball home. ¿Have I already mentioned Photonicorn is right-footed and she was playing left forward? That means the shot was most likely going to have to be with her left foot… and it was with her left foot that she attempted to send the ball on the first human powered flight to Pluto to determine once and for all whether it should be classified as a planet or moon.
Unfortunately the mission failed and the ball fell short of its roughly 3-ish billion mile journey to Pluto after traveling roughly 50 feet and landing the parking lot. Had Lucifer been standing nearby I would have yelled “¡STOP!” and traded my soul for that sequence on the spot.
No worries, Photonicorn. Take a page from Touro’s book and keep firing away at the stars because the law of averages dictates one of those blasts will land in the goal.
Zarate’s Divine Compliment
Zarate’s complement starts with Diosa burning me as badly as I’ve ever been. I was defending Diosa on the right side. Her primary move is a combination change of pace with a faked shot that she turns into a pivot to head in the opposite direction. I’ve played Diosa and bit on this fake enough to know better and I haven’t let her burn me with it for quite some time.
So Diosa was moving toward our end line and she slowed down and made like she was going to pass the ball toward the goal. Here ‘s what my brain said to me, “My ¡SOLUSTRON! she’s crossing the ball… ¡JUMP!” So I did and, of course, she calmly tapped the ball back in the opposite direction and started dribbling away from me.
As soon as I landed I hustled back toward her. As I approached she slowed down and made like she was going to pass the ball toward the goal. Here's what my brain said to me, “My ¡SOLUSTRON! she’s really crossing the ball this time… ¡JUMP!” So I did and, of course, she calmly tapped the ball back toward the end line, took a couple steps and had all the time in the world to calmly deliver one of the crosses we were lucky did no damage.
¿Where was I while Diosa was leisurely setting up the potential game tying goal? Apparently I felt bad that Photonicorn’s futbol mission to Pluto had failed so I tried it again with my body. I’m not even sure my feet were on the ground yet when she passed the ball.
Diosa and I talked about this sequence after the game and she punctuated it with this. “I like playing against you because I can get around you. I don’t like playing against Zarate because I just can’t get around her. She just keeps moving her feet with her eye on the ball. She never falls for any of that junk you’ll jump out of your shoes for.”
There you go, Zarate, high praise from someone with a divine Nom de Futbol. That’s as close to wink and nudge from ¡SOLUSTRON! as you’re going to get. ¡Enjoy!
Friday, August 22, 2008
Game 6: ¡FUTURISMOS! 1 — Transformers 4
The problem with sport as a metaphor is there are times when it’s just that: a metaphor. Sports can’t fix your non-sports life. They can help you think about it in new or insightful ways but they can’t change a thing. This week my non-metaphorical existence—the one that makes up the 167 hours in a week that aren’t the 1 hour of futbol match—took precedence and I haven’t had time for the write-up.
I’d say “sorry,” but it would be disingenuous. I’m not sorry. Sometimes real life blows up in your face and you have to run around looking for the pieces and putting out fires. That’s life and so is your club getting steamrolled for absolutely no discernable reason whatsoever.
I have no idea why Transformers thumped us so good. Their level of talent didn’t appear to exceed our own to any great degree. But make no mistake about it, they kicked our butts. Our lone goal came when Elliot—our keeper— got the ball and ran it all the way down the pitch and scored on a shot he took from inside the Transformers’ box. I think that says it all.
Next week’s game is against our sister club, King Vidor’s Double Ataris. Most of your ¡FUTURISMOS! have played for the Double Ataris at some point and vice versa It will be a kind of Super Homecoming Family Reunion. All goals will be celebrated World Cup style. The pitch will be alive with chatter. Everyone will laugh. Most people will dance. And for one hour our un-non-metaphorical lives won’t exist.
Behold, the power of sport makes 1 more valuable than 167.
I’d say “sorry,” but it would be disingenuous. I’m not sorry. Sometimes real life blows up in your face and you have to run around looking for the pieces and putting out fires. That’s life and so is your club getting steamrolled for absolutely no discernable reason whatsoever.
I have no idea why Transformers thumped us so good. Their level of talent didn’t appear to exceed our own to any great degree. But make no mistake about it, they kicked our butts. Our lone goal came when Elliot—our keeper— got the ball and ran it all the way down the pitch and scored on a shot he took from inside the Transformers’ box. I think that says it all.
Next week’s game is against our sister club, King Vidor’s Double Ataris. Most of your ¡FUTURISMOS! have played for the Double Ataris at some point and vice versa It will be a kind of Super Homecoming Family Reunion. All goals will be celebrated World Cup style. The pitch will be alive with chatter. Everyone will laugh. Most people will dance. And for one hour our un-non-metaphorical lives won’t exist.
Behold, the power of sport makes 1 more valuable than 167.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Game 5: ¡FUTURISMOS! 1 — FC Vagabundoz 0
“Everyone’s got something to hide except me and my monkey” (or “Seriously, God, please stop flicking the back of my ear. I’m trying to find religion here and I need to concentrate.”)
One of my great laments is I don’t have so much as a pinch of a deeply held religious belief. They all fall apart for me in the same way. Every religion (that I’m familiar with) starts out great with a core of ideas about how humans should conduct themselves and treat others but then quickly moves on to some seriously crazy goo that I just can’t swallow. A few examples:
“We should be judged based on how we treat the weakest and most vulnerable among us…”
I stand corrected and this goal was still a throwback to last season when we routinely traced perfect, complicated geometric shapes with our player movement and crisp passing. It was a thing of beauty and I was proud to cheer it on from the sideline.
HALF TIME
We were a happy lot. The score was only 1-0 but the first half had been a pure joy. Elliot and Touro swapped keeping duties for the second straight game. It should be pointed out that Elliot handing the gloves over to Touro with a mere 1-goal cushion is a declaration of faith on par with a Christian Scientist turning down stitches after loosing a leg to an over-active revolving door.
SECOND HALF
The second half was essentially just like the first with the only difference being there were zero goals scored.
Not that anyone had forgotten, but Elliot repeatedly reminded us of his prodigious dead ball abilities. The best of which occurred after a foul at midfield on the sideline. We were awarded a free kick that Elliot used to force the FCV into a diving save that nudged the ball just high enough so it hit the crossbar. The ball bounced back into play and we nearly scored in the ensuing melee but once again an FCV lady standing in the goal cleared the ball. Elliot also forced the FCV keeper into legitimate saves on another long free kick and on a corner kick.
FULL TIME
Our Hyper-Dynamic Duo: Touro and Diosa
Ladies and Gentlemen of the ¡FUTURISMOS! Fiefdom. I realize I’ve implored you all to make the effort to see a game at some point for reasons ranging from mitigating your own shame to chanting down a rival agency. But I’m telling you no number of words will convey what a joy is to watch Touro and Diosa play. [I would know, I’ve tried a lot of words.]
Touro plays like a giant futbol version of Animal from The Muppet Show. Much like Animal makes no pretenses about playing a specific song, Touro seems oblivious to the idea that we have positions on the pitch. Again, like Animal, somehow this works out for the best because rather than crossing us up it means we play with an unpredictable and irrepressible wildcard.
I’ve belabored the majesty of Diosa on many an occasion so I won’t go on and on and on and on about it here but she was in particularly fine form in game 5. Just as there a different forms of dance there are different ways of dancing with the ball. Bobby—our Swedish import last summer—danced with the ball in a Hip Hop fashion. It was garish and big. Diosa’s dancing is more along the lines of Tango. The beauty is in it’s pauses and small flourishes of tightly controlled footwork.
Don’t get me wrong, all of your ¡FUTURISMOS! are fun to watch in the sense that we all play in fashions that are manifestations of our personalities (I’m a loudmouth with macabre undertones). But one need not know those two, Touro and Diosa, in order to appreciate the show they put on. Both are well worth the price of admission.
[Yes, the games are “free” in the sense that you don’t have to buy a ticket to watch them. But they aren’t “free” in the sense that you have carve out a little part of your day in order to watch them. I’m telling you, if you’re reading this I know for a fact that it worth carving a couple hours out of your week to catch them sometime.]
One of my great laments is I don’t have so much as a pinch of a deeply held religious belief. They all fall apart for me in the same way. Every religion (that I’m familiar with) starts out great with a core of ideas about how humans should conduct themselves and treat others but then quickly moves on to some seriously crazy goo that I just can’t swallow. A few examples:
“We should be judged based on how we treat the weakest and most vulnerable among us…”
Awesome. I like that.
“…Because God stuck his kid in an unsuspecting lady’s womb so he could grow up and be punished to atone for human sin.”
¡Bah!, ¿what? That’s just weird.
“You should treat others as you’d like to be treated…”
I’m totally down with that.
“…Because this Dude led his oppressed people to a new land of freedom that God helped him find but then told him he couldn’t hang out in there once they found it so Dude sat on a mountain until he was, like, 120 and then God buried him in a secret grave.”
¿Huh?
“You should treat everyone with compassion…”
Yes, yes, now you’re talking my language.
“…Because a long time ago this rich kid freaked out, ran away from home, and sat under a tree until he faced down a kind of demon lord and in so doing gained the secrets of life and the universe.”
¿You mean like George Bush Jr.? No thanks.
“You should hold high the flame of peace, justice, and equality…”
That sounds great. I’ll do that.
“…Because ¡SOLUSTRON! created us all from a magic rainbow that ends in a pot of comprehensive sex education that overflows with coffee and stimulating but non-offensive conversation.”
Whatever.
Like you I’ve seen Batman Begins and The Dark Knight so I, like you, understand the significance of reinforcing core “thou shalt” lessons with grand illusions to set them in a realm beyond human fallibility but I have my limits. So absolutely I believe humans have become overly reliant on pharmacological solutions to their sorrows, but come on, ¿how am I supposed to get behind the idea of extraterrestrial dictators using neural implants from our previous lives to make us fell depressed? I’m sorry, but that’s just ridiculous, and the fact that a significant number of people believe it is nearly enough to drive me to Paxil.
Then, just as I’m about to write the whole religion thing off for good and stock up on my antidepressants something like game 5 happens. Regular ¡FUTURISMOS! blog readers may have detected a note of melancholy in my reports this season. It wasn’t that we’re off to bad start (two draws and two losses) or hadn’t played in any good games (they’ve all been good, even game 4 where we got our butts kicked). There was just something missing for me.
I hadn’t had a single moment where I thought I’d turn around in a game to see the apparition of Genghis Khan winking at me so I’d definitively know the game/my life/the world/the Universe/the Lionel Messi was a gift from The Eternal Blue Sky. ¿So what happened in game 5 that made me sure I was going to catch the great Kahn in the stands out of the corner of my eye?
Truly astute ¡FUTURISMOS! fans already know the answer.
Twin Faustian Moments
Just when I’d all but given up on Faustian Moments we were blessed with two gems in the same game that restored my faith in being alive.
¿If Touro falls flat on his face on the pitch in spectacular fashion and we’re all there to see it does the sound of our collective laughter give a legion of angels their wings?
In the first half Touro found himself with the ball at the edge of the FCV box and literally nothing between himself and the goal. All he had to do was kick the ball forward and we’d have doubled our lead.
But Touro being Touro is inclined to do things in his own confoundingly crazy fashion. I don’t know how he did it but instead of kicking the ball he ended up getting both of his feet caught in the turf (¿or each other?) and ended up falling tree style, that’s without breaking his fall, on his face.
So there was Touro facing a gilded, heaven sent opportunity to score his first ¡FUTURISMOS! goal. It was a wide-open chance with everyone watching and… he fell literally and spectacularly flat on his face. It was such an exposed, unassisted tumble that there was only one possible response—unfettered laughter. It… was… awesome.
It also illuminates part of what’s so brilliant about Touro. There was no way he was going to take this badly. He (like I have in the past) took a moment on the ground to fully absorb the totality of his moment and then bounced up and got back in the game with a smile on his face, shaking his head in disbelief at how astounding his own gaff had been. That’s… what… made… it… so… awesome.
Heartbreaker’s No Child Left Alive Policy
Late in the game Heartbreaker teed up a crazy shot from just inside midfield and blasted it toward the FCV goal. Beyond the goal were the bleachers in which a 5-year-old boy was three-quarters of the way up in his trek to climb to the top. Oh, yes, these two events are soon to be related.
Everyone on the pitch watched as Heartbreaker’s shot sailed high and wide over the goal and our collective thought was, “wow, that shot is nowhere near the goal.” Then as the ball sailed over the goal we all saw out of the corners of our eyes where the ball was headed. It was amazing, you could feel the collective mood shift instantaneously from completely relaxed to totally freaked out because that ball was going to hit that kid. To make matters worse it was going to hit the kid in the back so he couldn’t prepare himself for it making the potential outcomes we were all envisioning that much worse.
Someone bellowed “¡LOOK OUT KID!” and he turned around just in time to see the ball bang off the seat he was climbing over and safely bounce away.
Once the kid was clearly safe I turned to Heartbreaker and started yelling at him. “Good lord, Heartbreaker, ¿what’s wrong with you? I’m glad you’ve finally embraced my belief the human race should stop reproducing but for crying out loud ¡that doesn’t mean we pick them off one at a time after they’re born! I’m talking about a societal shift in which people choose to stop having babies.”
An FCV lady, number 17, was already laughing at this whole scene but at that point her laughter shifted into something that was equal parts mesmerizing and frightening. ¿You know the classic nerd laugh? It’s the laugh where the sound comes from the intake of air at the back of the throat. [If you're not familiar just ask me to reenact it.] So 17’s laughter shifted from “normal” sounding laughter into this super nerd laugh. But that’s not the transcendent part.
She couldn’t stop. Her laughter went on so long that the collective reaction to it oscillated between amusement and fear. It went on so long that I became afraid she was going to choke on her laughter. ¿How do you save someone from choking to death on laughter? ¿Tell her something terribly unfunny like “truth be told, as amazing as it seems, John McCain could win the Presidential election”?
Watching 17 try to run up the pitch while fighting back a nearly catastrophic nerd laugh attack or Touro fall spectacularly on his face and then trot back down the pitch smiling to himself I have no doubt Dr. Faust would have yelled “¡STOP!” (after he stopped laughing) to the nearby Lucifer and traded his soul for the experience right then and there.
And I would have been right there with the good Doctor looking high and low for The Eternal Blue Sky to say, “I yield, life is worth living because this is too good to miss. If that means I have believe some messed up fairytale about dreadlocked aliens and make fun of Brooke Shields then so be it. It’s totally worth it.”
Roll Call
Ladies: Zarate, Li’l Pete, Diosa, Run MC, and Juju.
Gents: Elliot, TB, Touro, Heartbreaker, El Duque, and Me.
Good turnout. Two subs each for both the ladies and the gents. The perfect number of players.
Fan Roll Call
Collette and Spectra kept up their Super Fan Feud. I think Spectra’s still ahead but I’d be the first one to admit I might be biased in this assessment.
Weather
Oh… my… goodness gracious me. It was amazing outside. 70-ish degrees. Low humidity. The Eternal Blue Sky was on hand with a smattering of wispy clouds to accent its resplendent glory. Sweat dripping into my eyes and pouring into my mouth has never felt so good.
KICK OFF
¡GOAL FUTURISMOS! Heartbreaker (12th min): ¡F! 1 — FCV 0
The game’s sole goal was courtesy a coolly tapped ball by Heartbreaker at pointblank range into a gapping net. As is typically the case in such instances, it was a team effort.
¡Bah!, ¿what? That’s just weird.
“You should treat others as you’d like to be treated…”
I’m totally down with that.
“…Because this Dude led his oppressed people to a new land of freedom that God helped him find but then told him he couldn’t hang out in there once they found it so Dude sat on a mountain until he was, like, 120 and then God buried him in a secret grave.”
¿Huh?
“You should treat everyone with compassion…”
Yes, yes, now you’re talking my language.
“…Because a long time ago this rich kid freaked out, ran away from home, and sat under a tree until he faced down a kind of demon lord and in so doing gained the secrets of life and the universe.”
¿You mean like George Bush Jr.? No thanks.
“You should hold high the flame of peace, justice, and equality…”
That sounds great. I’ll do that.
“…Because ¡SOLUSTRON! created us all from a magic rainbow that ends in a pot of comprehensive sex education that overflows with coffee and stimulating but non-offensive conversation.”
Whatever.
Like you I’ve seen Batman Begins and The Dark Knight so I, like you, understand the significance of reinforcing core “thou shalt” lessons with grand illusions to set them in a realm beyond human fallibility but I have my limits. So absolutely I believe humans have become overly reliant on pharmacological solutions to their sorrows, but come on, ¿how am I supposed to get behind the idea of extraterrestrial dictators using neural implants from our previous lives to make us fell depressed? I’m sorry, but that’s just ridiculous, and the fact that a significant number of people believe it is nearly enough to drive me to Paxil.
Then, just as I’m about to write the whole religion thing off for good and stock up on my antidepressants something like game 5 happens. Regular ¡FUTURISMOS! blog readers may have detected a note of melancholy in my reports this season. It wasn’t that we’re off to bad start (two draws and two losses) or hadn’t played in any good games (they’ve all been good, even game 4 where we got our butts kicked). There was just something missing for me.
I hadn’t had a single moment where I thought I’d turn around in a game to see the apparition of Genghis Khan winking at me so I’d definitively know the game/my life/the world/the Universe/the Lionel Messi was a gift from The Eternal Blue Sky. ¿So what happened in game 5 that made me sure I was going to catch the great Kahn in the stands out of the corner of my eye?
Truly astute ¡FUTURISMOS! fans already know the answer.
Twin Faustian Moments
Just when I’d all but given up on Faustian Moments we were blessed with two gems in the same game that restored my faith in being alive.
¿If Touro falls flat on his face on the pitch in spectacular fashion and we’re all there to see it does the sound of our collective laughter give a legion of angels their wings?
In the first half Touro found himself with the ball at the edge of the FCV box and literally nothing between himself and the goal. All he had to do was kick the ball forward and we’d have doubled our lead.
But Touro being Touro is inclined to do things in his own confoundingly crazy fashion. I don’t know how he did it but instead of kicking the ball he ended up getting both of his feet caught in the turf (¿or each other?) and ended up falling tree style, that’s without breaking his fall, on his face.
So there was Touro facing a gilded, heaven sent opportunity to score his first ¡FUTURISMOS! goal. It was a wide-open chance with everyone watching and… he fell literally and spectacularly flat on his face. It was such an exposed, unassisted tumble that there was only one possible response—unfettered laughter. It… was… awesome.
It also illuminates part of what’s so brilliant about Touro. There was no way he was going to take this badly. He (like I have in the past) took a moment on the ground to fully absorb the totality of his moment and then bounced up and got back in the game with a smile on his face, shaking his head in disbelief at how astounding his own gaff had been. That’s… what… made… it… so… awesome.
Heartbreaker’s No Child Left Alive Policy
Late in the game Heartbreaker teed up a crazy shot from just inside midfield and blasted it toward the FCV goal. Beyond the goal were the bleachers in which a 5-year-old boy was three-quarters of the way up in his trek to climb to the top. Oh, yes, these two events are soon to be related.
Everyone on the pitch watched as Heartbreaker’s shot sailed high and wide over the goal and our collective thought was, “wow, that shot is nowhere near the goal.” Then as the ball sailed over the goal we all saw out of the corners of our eyes where the ball was headed. It was amazing, you could feel the collective mood shift instantaneously from completely relaxed to totally freaked out because that ball was going to hit that kid. To make matters worse it was going to hit the kid in the back so he couldn’t prepare himself for it making the potential outcomes we were all envisioning that much worse.
Someone bellowed “¡LOOK OUT KID!” and he turned around just in time to see the ball bang off the seat he was climbing over and safely bounce away.
Once the kid was clearly safe I turned to Heartbreaker and started yelling at him. “Good lord, Heartbreaker, ¿what’s wrong with you? I’m glad you’ve finally embraced my belief the human race should stop reproducing but for crying out loud ¡that doesn’t mean we pick them off one at a time after they’re born! I’m talking about a societal shift in which people choose to stop having babies.”
An FCV lady, number 17, was already laughing at this whole scene but at that point her laughter shifted into something that was equal parts mesmerizing and frightening. ¿You know the classic nerd laugh? It’s the laugh where the sound comes from the intake of air at the back of the throat. [If you're not familiar just ask me to reenact it.] So 17’s laughter shifted from “normal” sounding laughter into this super nerd laugh. But that’s not the transcendent part.
She couldn’t stop. Her laughter went on so long that the collective reaction to it oscillated between amusement and fear. It went on so long that I became afraid she was going to choke on her laughter. ¿How do you save someone from choking to death on laughter? ¿Tell her something terribly unfunny like “truth be told, as amazing as it seems, John McCain could win the Presidential election”?
Watching 17 try to run up the pitch while fighting back a nearly catastrophic nerd laugh attack or Touro fall spectacularly on his face and then trot back down the pitch smiling to himself I have no doubt Dr. Faust would have yelled “¡STOP!” (after he stopped laughing) to the nearby Lucifer and traded his soul for the experience right then and there.
And I would have been right there with the good Doctor looking high and low for The Eternal Blue Sky to say, “I yield, life is worth living because this is too good to miss. If that means I have believe some messed up fairytale about dreadlocked aliens and make fun of Brooke Shields then so be it. It’s totally worth it.”
Roll Call
Ladies: Zarate, Li’l Pete, Diosa, Run MC, and Juju.
Gents: Elliot, TB, Touro, Heartbreaker, El Duque, and Me.
Good turnout. Two subs each for both the ladies and the gents. The perfect number of players.
Fan Roll Call
Collette and Spectra kept up their Super Fan Feud. I think Spectra’s still ahead but I’d be the first one to admit I might be biased in this assessment.
Weather
Oh… my… goodness gracious me. It was amazing outside. 70-ish degrees. Low humidity. The Eternal Blue Sky was on hand with a smattering of wispy clouds to accent its resplendent glory. Sweat dripping into my eyes and pouring into my mouth has never felt so good.
KICK OFF
¡GOAL FUTURISMOS! Heartbreaker (12th min): ¡F! 1 — FCV 0
The game’s sole goal was courtesy a coolly tapped ball by Heartbreaker at pointblank range into a gapping net. As is typically the case in such instances, it was a team effort.
Apparently my memory of this goal is a little off. After I posted the blog I got this response from El Duque:
Hey...Am I invisible? Ha ha
Hey...Am I invisible? Ha ha
Your goal recap is wayyyyyyyyy incorrect.
A defender sent the ball up field, I trapped it with the chest and passed it to a streaking Diosa who then went to the corner. We did a give and go and she passed it back to me and then I passed it to Heartbreaker for the goal.
The goal was a flawless quadruple bang play that started with nice defense and a quick set up.
I’m not saying, I’m just saying... :)
I stand corrected and this goal was still a throwback to last season when we routinely traced perfect, complicated geometric shapes with our player movement and crisp passing. It was a thing of beauty and I was proud to cheer it on from the sideline.
HALF TIME
We were a happy lot. The score was only 1-0 but the first half had been a pure joy. Elliot and Touro swapped keeping duties for the second straight game. It should be pointed out that Elliot handing the gloves over to Touro with a mere 1-goal cushion is a declaration of faith on par with a Christian Scientist turning down stitches after loosing a leg to an over-active revolving door.
SECOND HALF
The second half was essentially just like the first with the only difference being there were zero goals scored.
Not that anyone had forgotten, but Elliot repeatedly reminded us of his prodigious dead ball abilities. The best of which occurred after a foul at midfield on the sideline. We were awarded a free kick that Elliot used to force the FCV into a diving save that nudged the ball just high enough so it hit the crossbar. The ball bounced back into play and we nearly scored in the ensuing melee but once again an FCV lady standing in the goal cleared the ball. Elliot also forced the FCV keeper into legitimate saves on another long free kick and on a corner kick.
FULL TIME
Our Hyper-Dynamic Duo: Touro and Diosa
Ladies and Gentlemen of the ¡FUTURISMOS! Fiefdom. I realize I’ve implored you all to make the effort to see a game at some point for reasons ranging from mitigating your own shame to chanting down a rival agency. But I’m telling you no number of words will convey what a joy is to watch Touro and Diosa play. [I would know, I’ve tried a lot of words.]
Touro plays like a giant futbol version of Animal from The Muppet Show. Much like Animal makes no pretenses about playing a specific song, Touro seems oblivious to the idea that we have positions on the pitch. Again, like Animal, somehow this works out for the best because rather than crossing us up it means we play with an unpredictable and irrepressible wildcard.
I’ve belabored the majesty of Diosa on many an occasion so I won’t go on and on and on and on about it here but she was in particularly fine form in game 5. Just as there a different forms of dance there are different ways of dancing with the ball. Bobby—our Swedish import last summer—danced with the ball in a Hip Hop fashion. It was garish and big. Diosa’s dancing is more along the lines of Tango. The beauty is in it’s pauses and small flourishes of tightly controlled footwork.
Don’t get me wrong, all of your ¡FUTURISMOS! are fun to watch in the sense that we all play in fashions that are manifestations of our personalities (I’m a loudmouth with macabre undertones). But one need not know those two, Touro and Diosa, in order to appreciate the show they put on. Both are well worth the price of admission.
[Yes, the games are “free” in the sense that you don’t have to buy a ticket to watch them. But they aren’t “free” in the sense that you have carve out a little part of your day in order to watch them. I’m telling you, if you’re reading this I know for a fact that it worth carving a couple hours out of your week to catch them sometime.]
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