FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Gavin’s Back Office
Beneath Providence Park
Rose City, Cascadia
Official Match Statement PORvCOL League Match
Dear Major League Soccer,
The ups and downs are always part of the pursuit of happiness. Even after you’d piss and moan and pour vinegar on the wounds of discontent over something as minimal as not noticing a crumb on a freshly dusted table or leaving a water streak on the silverware set that was a gift from your demented uncle, I’d still cherish the moments when our perspectives met, however fleeting, like the time we fell into a giggling pile of childish laughter while sweeping the remnants of your Godmother’s china that you’d thrown against the wall in a fit of unmitigated frustration.
It was those times, when the absurdity of it all was just overbearing to the point of insanity, that our shells would crack and we’d just let moments be what they were. That was us giggling in a jagged pile of broken memories, laughing our heads off that we’d brought ourselves to such times.
Didn’t things used to work? Hadn’t the year of comfort and highs that far outnumbered the lows of uncontrolled smashings been real? Who changed?
I think the answer is we both did.
You got better.
We tried to get better by outsmarting ourselves.
Things got worse.
You see the pattern. We did then, when you bent down to help me sweep the splintered blue outlines of what was once a plate you’d inherited and we smacked heads and grabbed at them in pain and glared at each other as if one of us was to blame when neither of us were. We had no choice then but to drop down and squeal at the delight of realizing it didn’t have to be so hard.
The constant push for perfection will always lead humanity to try the inevitable. From trying to make a wounded relationship thrive to making the wrong choices when trying to improve by changing a system that just needs some improving. It’s not that there is virtue in idleness or the stale smell of contentment should keep us still and never evolving, it is just that sometimes, to find what works best, we have to go back to what worked to begin with.
And that’s what the Timbers did last Friday when we told you and the Rapids to go fuck yourselves.
At it’s very core and even without Caleb’s diabolical double Argentine substitution that gave us the boost to take all points after having none, this was the 2013 Timbers the league had grown to love and grown to mitigate. 529 passes, 82% accuracy, and 62% possession. With 12 shots, 6 on target, and 2 goals, this is Possession with Purpose. After being behind from the unlucky circumstances of set pieces and their ever nefarious ways to strike daggers into the sails catching winds, we were down 1-0. But this was big hearts, brass balls, back to brass tacks Timbers and we would not be thwarted.
And it was only right that after peppering the field with salty passes and stalwart tackles our equalizing goal came from a sequence of Arsenal-esque buildup that saw every Timber sans Ricketts and O’Rourke touch the ball from the back line to the front to Jewsbury’s sumptuous ball and Cousin Maxi finishing with the featherlite touch of being born of a nation where beautiful football is a breath you breathe from the moment of birth.
From the speculative jabbings beginning from Ridgewell to Chara to La Gata to Chara. The casual roll from left to right to left of the ball before finding Mikey lurking on the touch-line. From there a flash; La Gata finding Valeri and Valeri’s sideflick to Nagbe and the pinpoint finding of Will near the box. And then Will, displaying the very essence of “patience is a virtue”, holding up for the slightest of moments, and seeing the Salty Dog pushing forward laying a threading pass to find him at full clip and the rest is for dreams.
Dreams that include an icing on a cake of three points fit for a King of Cascadia.
Valeri’s game winner created from nothing and born on the wings of a South American phoenix. A typical Chara, who had bossed it all night, finding our Maestro who was painting a masterpiece. His shot and goal is one of the greatest goals I’ve ever seen live. 28 or 30 yards it doesn’t matter. He stroked it with genius, knuckleballing its deadweight with a curving venom that left the keeper snake-bit and the upper 90 sidenetting rippling.
A full team performance and a needed win. A team that brushed the field with passes like butter and found a rhythm we had once known but had forgotten the beat.
The day was seized but what still awaits is if the page was turned on that day.
Are we passed breaking things or just laughing on the floor in the middle of it all?