Saturday's game versus a local HS rival brought the red mist flooding back. Oops, I did it again. So part of this blog is my attempt to exorcise the devil in me - but I can explain (see - by using the but word I am going to totally justify everything). The 'but' word drives me mad - it's like when someone apologizes for something yet quickly follows that apology with but - and then explains why it really was someone/thing else's fault. Classics include...
"I know I need to get my head on that one, but the sun was in my eyes"
"It was a terrible tackle, but he was asking for it"
"I know I lost the plot, but my medication is wearing off"
Oh, and then we'll stick a few school options in.
"I'm sorry I didn't do my homework, but my hamster has hemorrhoids"
"I know I mustn't hit her, but she made a crass comment about the cut of my jacket"
Here is the ultimate but......"but he started it...."
And so we segway nicely into yesterday's game. Just quickly - segways... I'm not a fan. So the local mall has security on segways. Right. That's sending a powerful message to the criminal world of the midwest. I can see it now, man runs out out Kays with a fistful of cubic zicornia as the alarm echos down the south end of the mall. A couple of retiree walkers in overly chunky and excessively white 'sketchers that get you fit' are knocked aside as Dirty Harry screeches around the corner...on a segway. A dramatic cop n' robber chase ensues. The segway, a 1970 Pontiac, red with a white flash down the side screams past Taylors and gives another pointless cell phone protective thingy booth flying. The jewel bearing thug takes a sharp right into Old Navy and cunningly stands with the ethnically balanced manekins in the entrance. Harry, 'avec une segway' rolls in and stops. The extra 9 inches of elevation a segway offers gives Harry that presence that even flipflops for $2 can't muster. A bead of sweat runs down thugs temple. We'll call him Jose after Jose Mourinho. Just because Mourinho always looks so miserable he is clearly in need of some attention. The segway's 'single drop of sweat' detector picks it up and Jose is undone. Linen pants, cotton tees, 2 for $15, and a gum ball style machine with bouncy balls are all trashed as the chase rolls through the store line hurricane irene. A back of store exit provides Jose with his only escape. A sharp exit out back and into Jose's Chevy Lumina (the 3.1L white with claret trim version) and it peels out of the parking lot with a segway in pursuit. Police wait at the next junction of I465 with tire nail thingies and big fat guns. A small child cries as the distressing unpredictability of life starts to unravel before him.
That child clearly isn't a West Ham fan. unpredictability is the very essence of the Hammers. Watford 4-0 - then a sketchy 2-2 draw at home to Leeds followed by a 1-2 defeat by lowly Aldershot Town in the Carling Cup. Praying for magic at Forest today. I hoping Big Sam has waved the big stick and the boys will be back on track.Sorry, where was I..?
Ah. The game yesterday. So without addtional commentary here is the conversation with the ref. Know this - we have the lead even though our lad fouled the keeper to score. The ref's given me grief for not replacing a player quickly enough when issuing a yellow card. I have reminded him that this is not Real Madrid v Barca as he now blows for every single form of contact. So again from me...
me - "let them play, it's not Real v Barca"
him - "are they the only 2 cities you know?" (somewhat obnoxiously)
me - "no, where are you from then?"
The opposition coach chewed him out at halftime and he then walked over to our entire bench and lost it claiming if anyone said anything else (no-one had spoken) he would eject them.
It's all fine until one of the opposition players darts into the penalty area and dives as he is tackled. Everyone knows it. Not the ref. Penalty. 1-1. 5 minutes later were 2-1 down and the entire game is turned on it's head. Of course, my settled and calm approach is replaced with a number of pointless rants, three that come to mind are:
numerous times - 'is that a another penalty etc etc you know it was a dive...'
'telling me own AD to stop telling me what to do - the ref can give me a card if he wants'
'reminding the 4 coaches and entire bench that it was a dive, the lad is cheating, which sucks especially as I play soccer every week with that players dad.'
Oh crap. The last one I am really ashamed about, especially now as I am being reminded by their coach, great guy and passionate like me, to try to be classy.
I'll be writing to their team, coaches and friend Mark to apologize.
We lost yet played well for at least half the game. Their second goal was simply a combination of good play and panicking in our defense. I am left asking myself if I lost us the game. Does the ref make a better decision if we all leave him alone? Do our players feel the increased level of stress and get pushed over the edge thus making mistakes? Soccer is about turning points. With 12 minutes left we had rotated our midfield, re-grouped after a period of pressure from the opposition and were looking good. One dive and a penalty turns the game on it's head. We lose 2-1 for the second year running and I am left embarrassed and needing to apologize to the visiting team.
So I saw this job opportunity - it might be time for a short vacation and a new start. Turns out the local mall needs a security guard. Job comes with segway training too. Nice.
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