The fleeting moments on a brink
I am an Arsenal fan. Or I try to be. It's hard to do so in the states, especially since I only started following the team in 2001 and because I have no other attachment to them other than Nick Hornby.
Until today I followed them as passively as a total fanatic could, watching only on FSC and occasionally going to the websites. It was a team who I followed but never got the moment to ever feel like this is my team, this is a tenet of life I can attach to.
I was the same way with USC football until the Cal game of 2003, when USC lost in Triple Overtime. I followed them because it was my school, yet with a bit of hesitance, because it wasn’t until 2004 that I started to call LA my home, and for the most part, I didn’t have a College football team; the only teams I liked were the opponents of Miami, Nebraska, and Florida State. I’d rather watch football on Sundays.
Until that day when I watched the whole game (and mind you this is after the Carson Palmer lead team demolished Iowa in the Orange Bowl, with my friends in Indiana no less) and found myself loving every moment. Thinking back on it now, it was the flashpoint. I didn’t have the desire to buy a jersey in college, I didn’t go to but 4 games in college, and I didn’t pregame the big ones with the crew.
I was over at a friend of mines in Mann-ha-ann Beach watching the game with him and his roommate (also a SC alum) and we rose, fell, and flourished with the game. I can think of few more satisfying losses I have ever viewed in my life, because the game was transcendent enough but not fully spirit crushing for me to enjoy the moment. In contrast, I am still not over the game SC didn’t win over Texas, we didn’t lose that game, we gave it away. You can tell the bile still flows, because it wasn’t a game for the ages, it was a calamity where both teams couldn’t plan for the other, and Pete Carrol didn’t think to challenge Vince Young with a linebacker spy.
But with the Cal USC game of 2003, it was something special, even in a loss for me, because I finally identified with the team. And more than that, I fell in love. I have said it before, being in love is just taking a quiet moment and asking one’s self if they love something or someone. If the answers yes, it comes easier than anything, and it’s followed by a feeling of euphoria, as if the body releases endorphins to the body in recognition. The team lost, but I finally cared about USC. Forged by fire I was, and lamentable as it was, it took a loss to truly do so. And I wouldn’t trade a loss for a win.
So last week I was following the pages of Arsenal only to realize they have made it through the champions league to the semi’s. For some reason, I thought they lost in the quarters, but I hadn’t paid attention since Chelsea bought the Premiership. Anyway, For those who aren’t familiar with the champions league, it is an all star tourney of sorts, where the top four teams of leagues all over Europe come together to face one another. Unlike the colonies where we have the playoffs, Europe has country/ region specific leagues, and without the Champions league, it’s like NCAA basketball without March Madness, sure Butler was the best of their division-going 25- 3, but how would they do against a team of real talent Indiana (23-9). The best players in the world are not united in competition as whole outside of the Champions League.
This makes winning this tourney all the more special. You can lose the tourney’s and league (mind you none of these leagues have playoffs, it’s all about how you finish in the season) and in the cups (there are one or more mini-tourney’s that happen during the season that a team can claim to). While it doesn’t carry the prominence of winning within your own, it carries a special swagger of being the best of the best.
Hollowed ground it does approach as memories form rank.
And so to last week, I watched Arsenal eek out a 1-0 victory in the home leg of the match (where away goals score as double) and went to watch Tuesday’s game. I was one of two people in the bar, and thankfully, the other mate was an Arsenal man.
In sports, when forming new affections, it’s always good to have along the way. A single serving friend of the best sort, it was as great of a blessing as one could hope for.
As for the game, it was terrible. It was a lousily played match with both teams playing for the safe move (for Arsenal it was to keep it slow and maintain their edge-even when a mere goal would have given them a 3 goal advantage- and for Villarreal it was to defend against the goal and take any chance Arsenal gave them) and when watching as a fan Coaching strategy as such is as boring and painful as possible.
89th minute.
It comes down to this.
And I can only think of this.
Moments so perfect and unexpected, they tie you to that moment with memories more sound and strong than few other instances in life can give, for in that one moment, you know where you were, and what happened in those 90, 60, 45, 40 minutes or nine innings.
And Arsenal has a new, life long fan. Even if I was hammered, I’ll remember the feeling when I fell in love.
Until today I followed them as passively as a total fanatic could, watching only on FSC and occasionally going to the websites. It was a team who I followed but never got the moment to ever feel like this is my team, this is a tenet of life I can attach to.
I was the same way with USC football until the Cal game of 2003, when USC lost in Triple Overtime. I followed them because it was my school, yet with a bit of hesitance, because it wasn’t until 2004 that I started to call LA my home, and for the most part, I didn’t have a College football team; the only teams I liked were the opponents of Miami, Nebraska, and Florida State. I’d rather watch football on Sundays.
Until that day when I watched the whole game (and mind you this is after the Carson Palmer lead team demolished Iowa in the Orange Bowl, with my friends in Indiana no less) and found myself loving every moment. Thinking back on it now, it was the flashpoint. I didn’t have the desire to buy a jersey in college, I didn’t go to but 4 games in college, and I didn’t pregame the big ones with the crew.
I was over at a friend of mines in Mann-ha-ann Beach watching the game with him and his roommate (also a SC alum) and we rose, fell, and flourished with the game. I can think of few more satisfying losses I have ever viewed in my life, because the game was transcendent enough but not fully spirit crushing for me to enjoy the moment. In contrast, I am still not over the game SC didn’t win over Texas, we didn’t lose that game, we gave it away. You can tell the bile still flows, because it wasn’t a game for the ages, it was a calamity where both teams couldn’t plan for the other, and Pete Carrol didn’t think to challenge Vince Young with a linebacker spy.
But with the Cal USC game of 2003, it was something special, even in a loss for me, because I finally identified with the team. And more than that, I fell in love. I have said it before, being in love is just taking a quiet moment and asking one’s self if they love something or someone. If the answers yes, it comes easier than anything, and it’s followed by a feeling of euphoria, as if the body releases endorphins to the body in recognition. The team lost, but I finally cared about USC. Forged by fire I was, and lamentable as it was, it took a loss to truly do so. And I wouldn’t trade a loss for a win.
So last week I was following the pages of Arsenal only to realize they have made it through the champions league to the semi’s. For some reason, I thought they lost in the quarters, but I hadn’t paid attention since Chelsea bought the Premiership. Anyway, For those who aren’t familiar with the champions league, it is an all star tourney of sorts, where the top four teams of leagues all over Europe come together to face one another. Unlike the colonies where we have the playoffs, Europe has country/ region specific leagues, and without the Champions league, it’s like NCAA basketball without March Madness, sure Butler was the best of their division-going 25- 3, but how would they do against a team of real talent Indiana (23-9). The best players in the world are not united in competition as whole outside of the Champions League.
This makes winning this tourney all the more special. You can lose the tourney’s and league (mind you none of these leagues have playoffs, it’s all about how you finish in the season) and in the cups (there are one or more mini-tourney’s that happen during the season that a team can claim to). While it doesn’t carry the prominence of winning within your own, it carries a special swagger of being the best of the best.
Hollowed ground it does approach as memories form rank.
And so to last week, I watched Arsenal eek out a 1-0 victory in the home leg of the match (where away goals score as double) and went to watch Tuesday’s game. I was one of two people in the bar, and thankfully, the other mate was an Arsenal man.
In sports, when forming new affections, it’s always good to have along the way. A single serving friend of the best sort, it was as great of a blessing as one could hope for.
As for the game, it was terrible. It was a lousily played match with both teams playing for the safe move (for Arsenal it was to keep it slow and maintain their edge-even when a mere goal would have given them a 3 goal advantage- and for Villarreal it was to defend against the goal and take any chance Arsenal gave them) and when watching as a fan Coaching strategy as such is as boring and painful as possible.
89th minute.
It comes down to this.
And I can only think of this.
Moments so perfect and unexpected, they tie you to that moment with memories more sound and strong than few other instances in life can give, for in that one moment, you know where you were, and what happened in those 90, 60, 45, 40 minutes or nine innings.
And Arsenal has a new, life long fan. Even if I was hammered, I’ll remember the feeling when I fell in love.
posted by Indiana at
6:05 AM
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