I've watched Landon Donovan's game winning goal dozens of times today. Each time, I feel happiness as I watch the ball slide into the bottom corner sending the US soccer team into jubilant celebration. Watching the highlight over and over, it doesn't get old (at least not yet). What strikes me about this USA soccer team, is its resilience, its ability to come back from the brink. They are down, but they are not out. They've gotten a gift goal that miraculously gave them a point against England, and then became only the 21st team to come back from a 2-0 half time deficit to tie a match against Slovenia (We should have been the first to win). They had their hearts ripped out by a overmatched referee who turned what should have been a momentum launching comeback into a bitterly contested tie, and yet, they came through again.
I'm fairly new to the who soccer fan thing. I have been able to pick up a decent amount and can sound at least somewhat educated when I'm talking about the game. I'm still grasping many tactical details and the other small nuances of the game. I have however, become hooked on the sport, and trying to understand it better. This year's World Cup represents the first time I would truly consider myself a soccer fan. This morning, I went to the bar at 6:45 am local time and watched with dozens of other soccer fans, both new and old, as the USA tried to meet expectations they so often did not.
By the time the 85th minute rolled around, hope was starting to run out. Each passing second raised the tension level, and disappointment seemed just an unlucky bounce away. We've already seen these unlucky "bounces" for team USA. Today, another goal celebration was cut short due to a referee's mistaken whistle and yet hope still was there. The US had chance after chance to score the winning goal; the goal that would put us through to the round of sixteen, our first major goal of this tournament. Instead, everything seemed to be coming up short and as the seconds wound down, the US looked like it was going to falter again.
As so often happens in sports, the miraculous comes from out of nowhere. Today was no different. We gasped in horror as an Algerian cross ended up on target to a wide open attacker, and for a brief moment, it looked as though we would lose 1-0. The ball shot off the players head directly toward the goal, but fortunately it was also directly at our brilliant goalkeeper Tim Howard. Howard stopped the shot, corralled the ball, and then threw a desperation pass towards midfield where our team was pushing towards the opponents goal. American star, Landon Donovan, whose struggles and maturation process have been very well documented, took the ball in stride and streaked down the sideline. His pass found the foot of Jozy Altidore, who subsequently squared it in to Clint Dempsey. Dempsey who had earlier hit the post and had a goal disallowed by an "offsides" call, redirected it right into the Algerian keeper's chest. Again, it appeared that our last ditch effort had fallen short. Donovan, whose failure to step up when he was needed most, had faltered again. But this time, the ball bounced just out of the keeper's arms and sat at the edge of the six yard box and on to the screen flew our American hero. Donovan said, "time kinda stopped," and for all of us watching, we felt the same way.
Landon calmly placed the rebound into the bottom corner of the net which set off perhaps the biggest celebration in US soccer history. John Harkes, the former USA captain and now match analyst could barely speak, his partner in the booth had to describe the goal for him. Alexi Lalas's voice quivered as he talked about the result after the game. Donovan wiped tears from his eyes in his post game interview. In the bar, we celebrated with them, hugging strangers and high-fiving friends, yelling and chanting "U-S-A!" repeatedly.
"I've been on a long journey for the last four years, and I'm just shocked and so proud of our guys," Donovan said after the match. I speak for all my fellow friends and fans that watched today's game and can say that we are all proud too. I can't even count how many Facebook statuses reflected these sentiments.
Landon Donovan's journey and maturation aren't yet complete. Team USA still has more work to do. Today was only the first step in the right direction. But today, our star shined when the lights were at their brightest. Our team came through when disappointment felt imminent. They say failures can make us stronger. In Donovan's case, his past failures have taught him valuable lessons that he has taken to heart.
Before he finished the interview, he told Jeremy Schaap, "We believe." You know what Landon, so do the rest of us.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Always a Victor
Mostly we think of gifts as tangible objects, things that we give or receive for our birthdays or Christmas or some event that we deserve recognition for. We think of these things as a new shirt, or a gift certificate or something we can feel with our hands, an object we can use. Really, there are gifts of all different kinds, some tangible, some not, but usually the best gifts we receive are the ones that we cannot hold on to. The best gifts that I’ve received are my character traits, my hobbies, and many others of my favorite pastimes that have been passed down to me through family, friends, and life’s daily happenings. Let me tell you a story about my favorite gift that I have been given.
As a sports fan, we are often passed on our love of certain sports and teams from our families, and I am no exception. Although not necessarily in the same traditional sense as other kids, who’s parent’s might have given them a baseball cap at a young age, or told them stories of their favorite players, my family passed on a love for team just like the rest.
At a very young age, late in the fall, I was with my Grandma. Now she like most of my family was not a big sports fan, if a sports fan at all, but she had come to understand that I had mystically fallen in love with many of the different games I was able to watch on television or play in the back yard with my parents or friends. She was from the town of Port Clinton, Ohio, a state and city that is much different than Santa Barbara, the city that I grew up in. In Ohio, football is king, and The Ohio State University football team is the pride of most of the state. Many of her family members had been Buckeyes and were loyal supporters of the school. Fortunately for me, many of her other family members had attended “that school up North,” the one in Ann Arbor, a beautiful college town about an hour outside the city of Detroit. In fact, her brother-in-law James had taught at the University of Michigan for a long time and had influenced different aspects of change at the school. For those of you unfamiliar with these two schools, there exists a great rivalry between them. For years and years, the two have played legendary games with legendary figures that forever live in their history.
Although not a football fan herself, my Grandma was still was very much aware of the two schools and their clashes. She explained this, as best as she could to her young grandson that day. I don’t remember much of the details except that she told me that the game would be the following day, and that I should watch it. She also made a bet with me, one quarter, and she would root for her home-state Buckeyes. I don’t remember what year it was exactly, but I was most likely around five or six years old, which would make this about 1990 or 1991. Whatever year it was, Michigan won the game, and to my delight, I was a whole twenty-five cents richer. For the next eight, or nine years, every November when the two schools played, I could always expect a call from my Grandma the night before reminding me about the game, which I really needed no reminder of, and of our quarter bet on the game.
The 1990s were an awfully kind decade for the Michigan Wolverines as they won seven times, lost two and had one tie against their bitter rival. Essentially, during my more formative years, I always won a quarter, which kept me rooting for Michigan and turned me into a dedicated fan. Despite their recent struggles as a football team, my love for the school and the team lives on to this day. I toured the campus as a high school junior and although I did not attend Michigan, it forever holds a special place for me. I will always attribute my love for the school to my Grandma, who taught me about them, even if from the other side of things.
For me, “fandom” is a special thing. Not everyone understands what it means to root for a team and be lifted into pure elation, or have your heart broken by a game and a team. I love that so many generations of people have been passed on their love of a team or a sport from some part of their family, and I love that being a fan of a team can bring you together with random strangers, even just for three hours, and make you feel like you are part of something greater than yourself. I remember reading a wonderful internet thread on a message board just days before the Boston Red Sox won their first World Series in eighty-six years. It was called “Win it for…” and it was made up of stories from people all over the world and how they had come to love the Red Sox. The stories ranged from people wishing the team would win for their elderly father, who had taught them baseball in the backyard and taken them to Fenway Park as a child, or for a brother off at war who was still following the Sox from the other side of the world. It was special to hear so many stories about how family members had been brought together by what some people consider a meaningless game. You can see the evidence all over, such as when New York rallied around the Yankees and Mets after September 11th, or even today as the city of New Orleans rallies around their beloved Saints as they continue to rebuild from Hurricane Katrina. Sports, despite all its flaws can give us hope.
My Grandma died in the summer of 1999. Ohio State won in the last game she was alive. Since then, the Buckeyes have won eight of the last ten meetings, and still every year I think of that reminder call that I never needed. So Grandma, thanks for the best gift you could have ever given me, something that makes me feel so alive. I’ll remember to get you your quarters.
As a sports fan, we are often passed on our love of certain sports and teams from our families, and I am no exception. Although not necessarily in the same traditional sense as other kids, who’s parent’s might have given them a baseball cap at a young age, or told them stories of their favorite players, my family passed on a love for team just like the rest.
At a very young age, late in the fall, I was with my Grandma. Now she like most of my family was not a big sports fan, if a sports fan at all, but she had come to understand that I had mystically fallen in love with many of the different games I was able to watch on television or play in the back yard with my parents or friends. She was from the town of Port Clinton, Ohio, a state and city that is much different than Santa Barbara, the city that I grew up in. In Ohio, football is king, and The Ohio State University football team is the pride of most of the state. Many of her family members had been Buckeyes and were loyal supporters of the school. Fortunately for me, many of her other family members had attended “that school up North,” the one in Ann Arbor, a beautiful college town about an hour outside the city of Detroit. In fact, her brother-in-law James had taught at the University of Michigan for a long time and had influenced different aspects of change at the school. For those of you unfamiliar with these two schools, there exists a great rivalry between them. For years and years, the two have played legendary games with legendary figures that forever live in their history.
Although not a football fan herself, my Grandma was still was very much aware of the two schools and their clashes. She explained this, as best as she could to her young grandson that day. I don’t remember much of the details except that she told me that the game would be the following day, and that I should watch it. She also made a bet with me, one quarter, and she would root for her home-state Buckeyes. I don’t remember what year it was exactly, but I was most likely around five or six years old, which would make this about 1990 or 1991. Whatever year it was, Michigan won the game, and to my delight, I was a whole twenty-five cents richer. For the next eight, or nine years, every November when the two schools played, I could always expect a call from my Grandma the night before reminding me about the game, which I really needed no reminder of, and of our quarter bet on the game.
The 1990s were an awfully kind decade for the Michigan Wolverines as they won seven times, lost two and had one tie against their bitter rival. Essentially, during my more formative years, I always won a quarter, which kept me rooting for Michigan and turned me into a dedicated fan. Despite their recent struggles as a football team, my love for the school and the team lives on to this day. I toured the campus as a high school junior and although I did not attend Michigan, it forever holds a special place for me. I will always attribute my love for the school to my Grandma, who taught me about them, even if from the other side of things.
For me, “fandom” is a special thing. Not everyone understands what it means to root for a team and be lifted into pure elation, or have your heart broken by a game and a team. I love that so many generations of people have been passed on their love of a team or a sport from some part of their family, and I love that being a fan of a team can bring you together with random strangers, even just for three hours, and make you feel like you are part of something greater than yourself. I remember reading a wonderful internet thread on a message board just days before the Boston Red Sox won their first World Series in eighty-six years. It was called “Win it for…” and it was made up of stories from people all over the world and how they had come to love the Red Sox. The stories ranged from people wishing the team would win for their elderly father, who had taught them baseball in the backyard and taken them to Fenway Park as a child, or for a brother off at war who was still following the Sox from the other side of the world. It was special to hear so many stories about how family members had been brought together by what some people consider a meaningless game. You can see the evidence all over, such as when New York rallied around the Yankees and Mets after September 11th, or even today as the city of New Orleans rallies around their beloved Saints as they continue to rebuild from Hurricane Katrina. Sports, despite all its flaws can give us hope.
My Grandma died in the summer of 1999. Ohio State won in the last game she was alive. Since then, the Buckeyes have won eight of the last ten meetings, and still every year I think of that reminder call that I never needed. So Grandma, thanks for the best gift you could have ever given me, something that makes me feel so alive. I’ll remember to get you your quarters.
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