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Timbers Look MLS Ready but Fall in PKs

TIMBERS 1, SOUNDERS 1 (SOUNDERS WIN 4-3 ON PENALTY KICKS)

To the local sportsman yearning for a spot of good news, Wednesday’s US Cup matchup between the Timbers and hated rival Seattle Sounders offered several reasons for optimism. The house was packed. The privileged perch at the MAC was in full bloom. The little pocket of downtown near PGE Park hummed. And the 15,422 in attendance could be forgiven for imagining that 2011 MLS had already descended on our fair city.

The last time I covered a Timbers v Sounders match, I was new to the rivalry and so I viewed the game with, if not skepticism, at least the cool eyes of an outsider. I knew that Seattle was reviled, but I did not fathom the extreme dislike that exists between the fans of our two clubs, especially, on our grounds, from the Timbers faithful toward Seattle fans who drive down I-5 for a match. But in the days that have followed Portland’s loss-by-penalties to the Sounders, I’ve been impressed by the local fanbase’s ability and willingness to see the game as a promising bit of entertainment rather than a cause for the kind of blustery anger I was afraid would emerge.

It’s as if the fans wanted a good showing and a dose of civic pride even more than they wanted a win, and while the win didn’t come in the end, the first two desires came true.

DAY-GLOW PAJAMAS, BIZARRE COUSINS

With both their home and away jerseys too closely matching Timbers colors, Seattle resorted to their third-level kits, which make the team look like a ten-pack of fresh tennis balls bouncing around the pitch. You almost have to wonder whether these neon unis were designed with only Timbers games in mind, which in turn makes you feel special, knowing the bad guys would degrade themselves and their entire aesthetic just for you. Compliment, no, but satisfying? I think yes.

But there’s something behind the uniform similarities — a marketing problem, perhaps — that I think Portland and Seattle should be aware of. While it’s true that many great sports rivalries have an aspect of geographical proximity to them (Yankees v Red Sox, Cardinals v Cubs, Packers v Vikings), most of those examples are fortified by other, more apparent differentiators. Looks can be one; history another; and then there’s something like personality. Despite our ability in the Northwest to rattle off differences between the two cities, most of the country casually clumps us together. We’re the eco-friendly bohemian towns that drink good coffee and dress in, well, green. Some sports fans in New York, at least the ones that don’t read the NY Times food blogs, might think we’re pretty much the same city altogether, like a west coast version of Minneapolis and St. Paul. It’ll be interesting to see how these two clubs try to define themselves against each other in the MLS if and when the league gains more prominence across the country.

For now, though, I sense a bit of cousin rivalry when I attend the games. There’s a layer of pain and hatred that can only come from being family. The disdain dates back more than thirty years, which in US soccer terms is a geological age, but essentially it’s a turf war, and as with other high-passion/small-stakes competitions, claws grow sharp. The fear, though, is that the parties involved will forget that people outside the family feud might quickly lose interest.

WORTHY ADVERSARIES

Of the game itself it should be said that both teams played admirably, if not spectacularly. You can find a more granular assessment of the play-by-play elsewhere, but this embedded reporter was more focused on the general shape of play and specifically the Timbers standouts — players the team would do well to retain. Our back line excelled against the Sounders, especially the imposing Mamadou Danso, who looks even taller than his listed 6’3” and wears his #98 very well. Ian Joy, slighter but no less feisty, and the veteran Scot Thompson also played well in the back for Portland, which kept Seattle off-balance most of the night and didn’t allow the opponent to make clever plays in the center. Couple the strong defense with Bright Dike’s increasingly persuasive attacking style and you have the skeleton of a contending MLS side.

It’s impossible to say whether Seattle would have performed better had they played all of their starters instead of rolling out a mostly reserve team, but their on-field product left a lot to be desired. In fact, Portland outplayed Seattle for most of the game: better passing, better ball control in the center of the pitch, better thinking on the counter attack. And while Sounders net minder Kasey Keller has a more impressive pedigree than our own Steve Cronin, having served his national team in four World Cups and recorded what was by all accounts a stellar clean sheet against Brazil some twelve years ago, he’s grown long in the tooth. He looked slow on Dike’s goal in the 38th minute, and for much of the game he lumbered around his box like an aging giant.

GOD BLESS THE MAN WHO GETS BACK UP

In Portland, Oregon, 2010 might be remembered as the year international soccer in general and pride for the USA national team specifically made the leap into mass appeal. A common story of this Cup: I waited in line at 6:30am on a Wednesday morning to enter a local bar and watch the USA match up against Algeria, and by the time Landon Donovan scored the winning goal in the 91st minute to put our side into the knockout round, the place was absolutely packed, rocking, dizzy, and not just with card-carrying members of local soccer leagues. We’re talking shirtless, fraternity-tinted bros who’d probably spent the previous night bouncing coins into beer-filled Solo cups and bobbing their heads along to the sweet sounds of the Black Eyed Peas. Same guys who yelled things like: “Fuck no he wasn’t offside” before whispering to next dude over, “What’s the rule on offsides again?”

These are the same people used to seeing NHL players skate back onto the ice with sutures holding their gums together or gridiron football players getting smashed full speed, helmet to sternum, only to bounce right up and spike the ball smiling. And let’s face it — we need these dudes to care about the sport if only to ensure that professional soccer continues to grow Stateside and secure the kind of funds required to attract talent. So I’d have to think the repeated image of World Cup players crumbing to the grass after minor contact or (now infamously) covering one’s face in agony after having been hit in the chest, isn’t going to sit well with American audiences over time. (And yes, the fantastic camera work has frequently exposed close-up footage of painful contact that might have have seemed like kid stuff from distance, but still. So much flopping.)

Watching this sport you want to love and these players you want to respect flop around is uncomfortable, like watching a beautiful woman spit out a bit of food during a dinner conversation. You want to pretend it never happened.

But I think US soccer dodged an even bigger bullet during this tournament when Donovan scored the winner against Algeria to advance our side. If the Americans hadn’t won that game, the argument for keeping soccer a second-class sport over here would have added a significant piece of evidence in the form of Dempsy’s unfair offside call. Just imagine, the most talented team in USA history being forbidden the opportunity to advance by a series of unfathomable calls: first the shocker in Slovenia that nullified Maurice Edu’s goal, and then the Dempsy affair. It would have set us back eight years if not more. With so many other sports offerings in this country, why would the fringe fans continue to care about a tournament whose refereeing vacillations can ruin in one second what has taken four years to construct? It’s infuriating, especially with the growing prominence of video-aided replay in other leagues and for other sports (which is topic for another conversation altogether). I’m just saying: good thing the US was ousted during a fair match rather than being unjustly turned away again, as was the case in 2006 and, worst of all, 2002.

RESULT

Winning by penalty kicks is about as pedestrian a result as you can imagine. Yes, the winner advances, but the victory feels divorced from the game itself. And the loser can only console himself by saying, “Them’s the rules.” (It’s not my intention to dissect the different ways to end tournament soccer matches, but in short relying on penalty kicks to decide the outcome seems just a hair better than drawing lots or shooting free throws.)

But the old ogre Keller stopped two of Portland’s tries, and in the end his teammates managed to net four of their five chances for the victory. The Sounders live to play another day in the 2010 US Cup, taking on the Galaxy and their returning hero Mr Donovan. It would have been nice to welcome the country’s current soccer hero into town, but so it goes. We had our chances, we played a solid game, and, as they say, them’s the rules.

CLOSING NOTE: CAUCASIAN WAVES OF CONCERN

I have to add a note here at the end, if only to start some conversation about something that bothers me about gameday at PGE. In the course of some Timbers fight songs, notably “When I Root I Root for the Timbers,” fans throw both arms out in front of them like they’re trying to shoot lightning bolts from their palms or signal an oncoming vehicle to stop. But from a slightly removed vantage point, say, from behind the throng, the gesture looks considerably more menacing. Especially when you notice that over 90% of the arms in question are white. Am I the only person made uncomfortable by this uniform, militaristic outpouring? The math is pretty simple: many people at once, elbows straight, hands forward, palms open. I realize there are only so many ways a human can hold his arm while cheering, but historical context is important here, especially in soccer where racism has been mixed up in fandom for as long as the sport has existed. I guess this is more of a question than anything, since the persistence of said cheer makes me feel like I’m the only person who gets the willies when those familiar drums start up and the arms fly out. So what’s the verdict? Has this question come up before the Capos before, only to be disregarded or explained successfully away?