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Dos A Cero Otra Vez
The USA-Mexico game would mark my third �cap� for the US, and it was extremely enjoyable. The game was exciting, but according to the clich� I am about to incorrectly regurgitate, sometimes the journey is more important than the destination. Or something. In any event, Getting to the game was quite the adventure, and certainly dictated a significant portion of the experience of the game. With the game being on a Wednesday, and my going to college in DC, the logistics behind getting to Columbus required a good deal of meticulous planning and a winning combination of mass transportation and�one of our mother�s minivan.
By 11:30 the SMF Convoy rolled in to town, and I was rejoined with my buddies. All told there were seven of us, nearly rivaling the Wu Tang Clan in size and street credibility. We traveled under the cover of darkness, driving through the seemingly endless expanse of Pennsylvania roadway, a token appearance in the panhandle of West Virginia, and finally into Columbus Ohio. By the time we arrived at the Comfort Inn we and other members of the ESC/NJB contingent were staying at, it was 6:00 am. Incredibly, Connor�s roommate Matt drove the entire time I was in the car! We trundled blearily to our rooms and caught a few hours of sleep in order to rest up for the game.
Thankfully, the game was not delayed, and we marched in later than usual, close to the 7:00 pm kickoff time. Although I was disappointed and pretty surprised by the number of green shirts in the stadium, the Sam�s Army section was PACKED. The SMF crew gravitated to the back, and prepared to bring the noise. From my admittedly limited experience with US games, I know that the supporters section can be pretty crazy. Thankfully, it was better organized than expected and usually didn�t take too long for songs to reach us. We all did our part, and the section was hella loud throughout the game.
With the game over and Mexico vanquished, we headed back to the hotel room to clean up before going to Claddagh Irish Pub, Columbus�s designated US Soccer The next morning our (semi) early start was thrown off by the tragic death of the minivan�s car battery. It was far too young to die. Still, it wasn�t the biggest problem in the world, and we eventually set off. The ride home was uneventful, and outside of a few stops for food, gas, and ridiculous amounts of fireworks, things remained quiet. We returned to Sparta on Thursday night happy to be home but already hungry for more soccer. Luckily for the Sparta crew (and myself, who stayed home that weekend before going back to school) we got to head right home and sleep. Disco, Connor, and Matt weren�t as fortunate, as they had to return to the Bronx and Umass. Still, despite the late hours they made it back without too many problems, completing in full the SMF Journey of a lifetime. Until Mexico City and South Africa, that is.
Braneck Out.
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Match Report Archives
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Columbus, OH -If you are a fan of US Soccer (and by virtue of your reading this highly obscure match report, I would assume that you are) you should be quiet familiar with the result of the Hexagonal qualifier pitting the US against perennial rivals Mexico. In fact, familiarity was the theme of the day as the opponent, location, and score line were all well known (and well liked) for US soccer fans. That�s right; the United States once again topped Mexico 2-0 in Columbus Ohio. Not the most shocking of results, but I am not about to bitch about a solid win. I had the good fortune of being one 23,776 fans in C-Bus for the game, many of which who were representing the ESC and NJB as well.
I happen to take my education extremely seriously, but there is one thing that takes precedent of my learning regardless of the situation: The God Blessed Red White and Blue�. I love my country, and I love soccer, and if I was going to have to miss three days of class to see my beloved nation trounce our Rivals from down South, then so be it. Still, this would mean that actually getting to Columbus would be a bit of a bitch. The SMF (Sparta Metro Firm for those yet conquered) Caravan would have a long and testing road to Ohio. Our journey started in Amherst, where my boy Connor, and his roommate Matt (who both go to UMass) began the trip on Tuesday afternoon, post classes. From there they swung down to the Bronx, picking up Disco, honorary SMF member and all around dirty hippy. Continuing onward, Connor and company traveled from the BX to Sparta, NJ: SMF headquarters. This is where Connor switched out his car for his mom�s trusty minivan, picked up some snacks (thanks Mrs. Boushell) as well as the rest of the crew (sans me). This Spartan ensemble consisted of self proclaimed Rogue SMF operative Kevin (who it was nice to have along due to his prolonged absence from soccer games) and two Jr. SMF members Luke and Sean, who would be missing high school classes, which do not matter. They would leave Sparta for Harrisburg, PA, our designated meeting spot at around 8:00 pm, and it would be hours before the whole posse of dedicated hooligans would be united.
The travel on my end was a little more complicated. I left my dorm for the Greyhound Station in DC at about 4:00. My bus departed the station at 5:30, and three hours later I was in the wonderful little city of Harrisburg. According to my calculations, this meant I got to HBurg at about 8:30, only half an hour after the rest of the crew left Sparta. This left me with a good deal of time to kill, and I can now claim to know a lot about the Harrisburg bar scene. Due to the fact that I am not 21 I only got to enjoy a couple sprites and a grilled cheese, but still I felt quite manly and old while sipping my carbonated beverage and reading a book at the bar.
Being diligent fans, we got up at the crack of noon on Wednesday. Lacking sleep, but pumped up for the game, we headed to a liquor store to stock up for the tailgate, and then to the local run-down Waffle House for a healthy and nutritious breakfast all our parents would be proud of. Conveniently, the Waffle House was next to a strip club. Midwest Represent! We arrived at the lot at about 2:30, a few hours before the weather turned. We met up with Greg and his father, and held down the fort until more NY/NJ reinforcements arrived. Before God took a dump on the day in the form of horrendous weather, we had an enjoyable time in the Lot. Hanging around, lightheartedly bitching at Mexico fans, and meeting Americans (this time from Pennsylvania and Kentucky) was a great time. Although I didn�t mind the wind and rain, I regret it happened at a game like this, because as I learned during the USA vs. Argentina friendly, tailgates before national team games are a great place to meet likeminded and interesting fans from all over the country. Due to the inclement weather that rocked C-Bus before the game, it was hard to meet people. This was made up for later on, when we went to the US Soccer Bar Claddagh post-game.
Eventually our little enclave in the lot filled up with fellow ESC and NJB members. It was good seeing them, and for most of them, it has been a while due to the giant dead period in all our lives called the MLS off season (God we are losers). As mentioned before, the weather prevented me from talking to all of them that much. Due to my high susceptibility to pneumonia and giant vagina, when it began raining I decided to hang out in the car as much as possible to stay at least a bit dry before game time. Even from my enclosed vantage point it was impossible not to notice how crazy the weather was. The area had a tornado warning on the day of the game, and for good reason. The wind was insane, and the rain was coming in sideways half the time. Later we would see multiple power lines go down, one catching, and burning, a Motel Six.
As far as the actual game goes, by this point I am sure much more insightful and intelligent people have broken down the play on the game. Michael Bradley, coach�s son and New Jersey badass, was all over the field, and thoroughly deserved his two goals. Landon Donovan was active, but Mexico did a good job of negating his presence with multiple markers whenever he got the ball. Beasley ran his ass off. Kljestan was creative in the midfield, but could use a bit more focus. Tim Howard was the man. Rafa Marquez was decidedly not �the man�. Brian Ching was totally Hawaiian. And conveniently for the United States, Giovani Dos Santos could not score in a freaking brothel. Despite the wind, we played well, and by the second half, the team managed to pass the ball around to a chorus of Ole�s from the US crowd. The 2-0 score of old was maintained, and we were sent home happy.
bar. It was here that my manhood would truly be tested. I am 18 years of age, and do not portend to think that I look or somehow am 21 years old. Still, I attempted to buy a beer at the bar only to be shot down dramatically. I assumed that because it was past midnight and the bar was filled with soccer fans, I would be given a pass on such a magnificent day. Apparently not. So I, and most of the rest of our SMF crew hung back, deciding to get high on both life and each other�s company instead. We returned to the hotel hours later, exhausted, happy, and in some cases, wicked drunk dude!!!!
