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Don’t You Need Somebody to Loathe?

After last Saturday’s 1-1 draw between the hometown Timbers and the visiting Athletic Club of St. Louis, I tried to zero in on a player or two worthy of the Portland crowd’s venom. I’d been trying to nail someone down for the entire match, and when the visitors somehow managed to tie the game and steal a clean victory away in the last bit of stoppage time (some 92+ minutes into the match), you’d assume a villain would emerge.

Could it be Mike Ambersley, the former Rochester Rhino, who’d scored the equalizer? Not really. He didn’t even play the last time these two teams matched up (a fact that was pointed out to me by an astute Sportsman reader after that game). In fact, Mr. Ambersley played a quiet game and didn’t raise any hackles with his play: no dramatic falls, no cards, no whining or jersey pulling or spitting. Just a pedestrian game by a decent defender.

What about the newly signed Gauchinho, the Brazilian midfielder who’d played the last four season in Denmark and compiled a respectable 28 goals over 87 appearances? Surely with a name like that the guy’s got to be good, at least good enough to hate? Turns out Gauchinho didn’t have a profound impact on the game and subsequently dropped out of contention.

Only Alex Titton, the toe-headed forward (St. Louis’s sole forward in the match, as they played a conservative 1-5-4 setup) who you could hear crying and complaining from a distance of half the stadium. I really, really wanted him to earn the title of St. Louis bad guy #1, except that he couldn’t make anything happen on the front line and therefore earned a demotion from loathsome opponent to mere annoying pest. The remaining roster did nothing for me. I ran out of options.

*A Little Game Action*

The game started auspiciously, with Mandjou Keita attempting a bicycle kick in the fourth minute. I thought for sure we were in for a serious ass-kicking, all-skills-on-display, Timbers rout. But Keita’s acrobatics, coupled with another, even more compelling bicycle try from OJ Obatoba, were to be the most interesting plays of the first half.

While we don’t want to stray too far into the actual details of the game, it should be noted that Ryan Pore didn’t really show up to this game, which came as a surprise to those of us getting used to sublime play from the 2010 Timbers’ offensive juggernaut. He looked sluggish, hesitant and lacking in whatever magic allows players to “finish,” which is diametrically opposite to his play over the first five or six games. I guess you have to give the guy a break, but he had more than his share of chances in both halves and was unable to capitalize at any point.

Also, I want to say that Danso is an absolute stud in the backfield (and, on occasion, during corner kicks). He occupies space like a true motherfucker. You will not get around him. You will not win a head ball off him. He is taller than you.

*It’s Early*

It’s true that Portland was facing St. Louis for only the second time, ever. As opposed to Vancouver, against whom the Timbers have a long and somewhat checkered past, or Seattle, whose players are without question the primary target of Portland’s collective soccer ill will, St. Louis has no history here. The Timbers’ all-time record vs the ‘Lou? You guessed it: 1-0-0. Not exactly the stuff that good grudges make.

This is not to say St. Louis doesn’t have a history of major league soccer. I remember growing up hearing about the Steamers, who played in the first US professional indoor soccer league from 1979 until 1988. Even as a kid I knew there was something amiss about that league, though: more drinking and fighting (at least in the stands?) than at hockey games. And this was the 1980s, so that’s saying something. St. Louisans loved the late, great Slobo, who was twice voted MISL (Major Indoor Soccer League, that is) Goalkeeper of the Year, and they’ve always loved their soccer. But they’ve so far been shut out in their attempts to land an expansion MLS team, and the talent level of their current squad seems to reflect that fact: as of this writing, St. Louis remains dead last in the whole USSF D-2 Pro League with a total of four points in seven games and a dismal −7 goal differential.

*Why Can’t We All Get Along?*

Is it important to have enemies in sports? I believe so. The great Cardinals pitcher Chris Carpenter recently articulated his feelings on the matter, following an in-game exchange during which he barked so incessantly at an opposing batter for getting angry at himself after popping up that both benches cleared (two thing here before we get to the quote: first, Carpenter says he doesn’t remember the exchange, which, if true, means the guy literally blacks out during competition and ushers in some dark Hyde to toss mid-nineties heat at people he hates, and two, the reason Carpenter got so hot in the first place was that the batter showed disrespect by not just accepting that the pitcher was superior in every way and that he never had a chance or the expectation of success in such an obviously uneven matchup. Now that’s a badass). He said:

“This game is really, really important to me. It’s done a lot for me. It’s done a lot for my family. As much as I’ve been through, I don’t take any start for granted, ’cause I never know when it’s going to end. And I love doing it. And I love everybody in this clubhouse and I don’t like anybody I play against when I’m between the lines. That’s just the way it is. It’s super, super important to me.”

So if you get mad at yourself after striking out against this mean, keep it the fuck to yourself, because otherwise he will punch a hole in your throat and spit sunflower seeds down your throat until your face turns yellow and you have to turn toward the sun at all times.

But now I have to wonder, what’s the difference between fans hating other fans for wearing the wrong shit, which I’ve railed against in the past, and players hating other players during, well, play? Part of it comes down to pure entertainment. I want to see the players on my team give every ounce of their potential toward winning the game, whatever game that may be. My perfect sports event is a 2-1 or 3-2 or 1-0 baseball game filled with perfect defense, good at-bats, wicked strikeouts, and an outcome that’s anyone’s guess until the 27th out is recorded. That’s the whole point. So if you don’t have two teams of high skill and immense desire to win, you’re never going to achieve that result. After the game, though, you shake hands. That’s it. You might hate each other, but you also respect the hell out of your opponent’s effort.

*Let’s Finish the Game*

Yes, the second half. The best of the match, the worst of the match. Your Timbers Army came out strong, belting a greater variety of fight songs than I’d heard in any previous match, and fully occupying at least five sections of PGE’s north side. (It was funny to see the “dead zone” of sections between TA and the civilians who’d purchased seats for their families and children and other sundry folks who probably didn’t care much for the blue language pulsing out of section 107, etc.) The voices were strong, the smoke bombs dense, the drums clear.

The Timbers took the field to a rousing rendition (over the PA, not via the TA) of the Steppenwolf classic, “Born to be Wild.” And wild they were. For the first twenty minutes of the second half, the level of play from both teams was pretty sloppy. Not until the 67th minute, after what looked like a misplay, did Keita score the first goal of the match. Having nearly overrun the ball, he stumbled just enough for the St. Louis defenders to give him a little too much space, which he used to make a strong turn and guide the ball over the grass and into the lower far corner for the lead.

And it seemed the lead would stand, except that Portland got lazy. You could see it happening, as my notes from the 82nd minute can attest: “Portland better be careful, because they’re looking complacent. They might be vulnerable to a counter or a lazy loose ball in the box.” I was sober when I wrote that line. In fact, I was sober the whole game, before and after. A mistake I hope not to repeat this season.

*Man in the Mirror*

So there they were in the 89th, 90th minute: the Army, ready to cheer. But it turned out the real enemy of this game turned out to be the home team itself. After seeming to wrap things up, at least in terms of their own effort, the Timbers let St. Louis gobble up a couple of defensive mistakes and translate them into a goal during stoppage time. It was a depressing thing to witness. Boring old Ambersly scores a boring old goal during the boring old 90th+ minute. Should never have happened. But it did.

St. Louis stole a point on this road trip by being in the right place at the right time. But I wonder, if the Timbers’d hated St. Louis just a little bit more, whether the outcome would have been different. Sure, it was nice to see the hometown players still make their traditional visit to Timber Jim’s log and the rows of adoring TA faithful to trade bows and cheers, but something about that scene struck me as slightly off, somewhat askew. You’ve just given up the lead during the slim stoppage time and you’re ready to blow kisses into the stands? You’re content with some perfunctory love and a sawdust shower after letting your victory slip away?

Over 10,000 people filled PGE for the game, the future MLS fans of America. They came to be entertained, they came to see how their local product is shaping up in this that final year of warm-ups. And somewhere in the footnotes of the 1-1 draw I’d like to record this thought: the ingredients of full-on, die-hard, classic match entertainment are still very much in the gathering stages here, and I’m curious to see how those ingredients come together over the balance of this 2010 schedule.

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