RSS

Category Archives: Timbers

Clearly.

I’ve been ranty for about twelve hours now. That’s a long time for me to be ranty.

Usually, I rant in short bursts, a few minutes at a time, much the way I exercise. A few minutes here, a few minutes there. Short attention span, wander off.

As I write, this is Offseason Day 12. Twelve hours of ranting for Day 12.

We started out this morning with a few delusions from Merritt, the sorts of things we’ve come to expect from him. He says he didn’t expect that Kris Boyd wouldn’t start all the time. He says the fans just have to be patient because, obviously, we don’t understand the foundation of this team.

Wait. Let’s back up. Did he just urge patience? The guy that fired his coach mid-season? Oh, okay. That makes total sense. Clearly, Merritt and I would have a lot to talk about if anyone would let me get close enough to ask him a few questions.

I could spend a few hundred words about patience and foundation (starting with why’d you trade Kenny away for allocation money when you could have fixed the problem with a decent midfield signing that might have allowed you to do this painfully slow development of young players thing you seem to be stuck on?). But I won’t. Mostly because I’m tired. Because I’ve been ranting all day.

This offseason stuff is exhausting. So much has happened, but I think my soul is still recovering from the last match. It was a painful and disappointing and sad night but, in the end, I was put face to face with my two Scots in a bar I love but am soon losing. That’s right, both of them. Somewhere on the internet, there is photographic evidence that this was not just a figment of my imagination.

It’s been a whirlwind. It feels like that last match was yesterday. And four years ago. I can’t explain.

Apparently Kimura’s in Poland? I took a swing and tried to get some sort of official word from the FO, but the best I could get was the promise of an “official statement regarding current roster players” closer to the MLS Cup. For those who haven’t put it on their calendar, that will be December 1.

Speaking of calendars, this is happening:

http://rctidlady.tumblr.com/

All the credit in the world goes to Michelle DeFord and Brenda Vaughn and all the folks involved in putting this together. I saw the galleys tonight and the whole thing is gorgeous. Proceeds will go to Harper’s Playground. Buy a calendar. Seriously. They’ll be available just in time for holiday gift-giving.

I’ll have more (coherent) words in a few days when I calm down from witnessing Kenny Cooper’s new team let him down just moments before spending two hours watching Nick Rimando’s team let him down. Oof. I don’t even make sense anymore. Clearly.

3 Comments

Posted by octoberthoughtspdx on November 8, 2012 in Timbers

Tags: Clearly

Okay, listen up, Portland sports journos.

23 Oct

Let me make this simple for you: the Timbers, a Major League Soccer franchise located here in the City of Roses, are here to stay.

You can bitch, you can moan, you can become whiny and cranky and stomp your feet and shake your fists at the clouds above and kick puppies but the fact remains, the Timbers and their Army are not going anywhere.

That said, I think it’s high time you started to learn a thing or two about the Timbers and the culture that surrounds them. When you’re ready, I’ll be happy to point you to folks that can give you insight into our history, our passion, our commitment to this team and this town.

In the meantime, I’ll offer a few words about the Cascadia Cup.

Established in 2004 by the supporters groups of the three Cascadia teams – the Timbers, the Seattle Sounders and the Vancouver Whitecaps – the cup is awarded to club that takes the most points from the other two Cascadian teams. It’s not hard to understand. The not-terribly-complicated rules can be found, spelled out in their simplest form, at http://www.thecascadiacup.com/. You’re professionals, you should be able to Google this stuff.

What might be harder to understand is the importance of the Cup. Especially to Timbers fans. Especially after this mess of a season.

See, we started our season with the highest of expectations. The arrival of Kris Boyd. An exciting pre-season tournament. A win for the home opener. “Playoffs in the second year,” Merritt told us. And many of us believed him.

But it wasn’t long before things started to unravel and before the halfway point in the season, we’d lost to an amateur team and our coach had been fired. We had a nine-game stretch during the summer when we didn’t win a match. There were three games in a row during that stretch when we didn’t score a single goal.

What I mean to say is this: it hasn’t been the easiest of seasons. But we’re still here. We still line up hours before every match and sing until every player is off the field. We travelled en masse to Seattle to face an arguably stronger, playoff-bound team in their home stadium. Over 1,500 of us, Steve, on eighteen buses, on trains, in dozens of cars. People flew in from all over the country. This girl came from Wisconsin to see a team she listens to on the radio but never gets to see in person.

So, Steve, when you say stuff like this, it isn’t entirely accurate:

The lonely corner of the planet where you can never hope to attract unique coaches, talent or brands. The moss-backed abyss where no one dares to dream big or loud or fast or …

We did dream big. We still dream big. We’re just occasionally disappointed. It doesn’t mean we stop dreaming. It means we have more time to dream bigger.

In those two weeks between the ridiculous loss in Seattle and the Cascadia Cup win in Vancouver, we had plenty of time to dream. And lament. And rage. And laugh. And recharge.

We got tossed unceremoniously from the US Open Cup in May. We saw the team crumble mid-summer. We’re saddled with an interim coach who doesn’t seem to get that the season didn’t end in July. The Cascadia Cup was the last thing within reach.

We could have taken it during the Sounders’ visit to Portland in September, but we didn’t.

We could have taken it during our trip north to the Emerald City two weeks ago, but we didn’t.

We were forced to go into Vancouver, to play against a team fighting for a playoff spot. In order to secure the Cup, we needed to win on the road, something we hadn’t been able to do all season.

And, when it came right down to it, the importance of the Cup is what pushed our boys forward, what inspired them to perform at the level necessary to get those three points. They wanted it not for themselves, but for us.

And now we have it. It doesn’t erase the stupidity of this season, but it gives us much-needed a reason to celebrate.

So, Dwight, you can scoff if you like. It doesn’t change the fact that this Cup means something to us. It’s more than a trophy. It’s a covenant between the players and the fans, the acknowledgement that this season has been difficult for all parties involved and a promise that things will get better.

I have to wonder, in your years of writing sports professionally, if you’ve become so jaded that you don’t remember what it’s like to be completely committed to your team. Beyond that, I wonder if you ever had a team to which you were fully committed.

I have to admit, the experience is relatively new to me and has been, at times, alarming. How did I find myself so in love?

And then I look around me and realize that I’m surrounded by others – thousands of others – who are just as enamored, just as in love as I am.

And then you, Steve and Dwight and John (whom I haven’t previously mentioned, but seems to fit in perfectly here), just seem sad and lonely and desperate when you lash out at things you obviously don’t understand and are unwilling to learn about.

We don’t need your approval, gentlemen. And your derision is unwelcome.

7 Comments

Posted by octoberthoughtspdx on October 23, 2012 in Timbers

Tags: Cascadia Cup, Know your history

Kings of Cascadia

21 Oct

First apologies to my October folks. We’ll be back to normal Tuesday.

I know you’ll be SHOCKED to hear that I’m feeling a tad emotional this evening.

Until very recently, I’ve been borderline insane in my optimism where the Timbers are concerned. It’s been said that despite talent or depth or conditioning, any team can take any game on any day. It’s all a crap shoot.

But this year has left me wondering if there was some sort of cosmic grudge being held against our boys. So many last minute losses, so many things have gone wrong, so much damage has been done.

I’ll admit I’ve shed more than a few tears over this season.

And I shed a few more tonight.

I didn’t know what to expect and, to be perfectly, painfully honest, I didn’t expect much. I love these boys, I love this club, but there is a limit to how much I can hurt before becoming numb.

Missing the last home Seattle match was fifty times more painful than I thought it would be and not being able to celebrate a Cup win immediately after was another blow.

Joining a traveling contingent of 1,500 to the Seattle away match only to find that our GM/manager had stopped taking the competition seriously absolutely brought me to my knees. I’ve become increasingly restless and angry since Spenny was removed from his post. And Gavin’s quotes over the last few days (rather, last few months) have put me on edge.

I knew, for the sake of my own mental well-being, that I needed to be among people who understood all that this game meant. The last shreds of hope for a completely blown season hung on this one match.

I went to Bazi, a lovely Belgian beer bar in southeast Portland, a bar where I often watch games, but also where I’ve never seen a winning result for my Timbers. I was lucky to be able to gather a fantastic group of folks who don’t mind that I’m a wreck during games. Actually, they probably didn’t even notice.

The line-up was announced and, while my Boyd-in-the-eighteen prediction was proven wrong, it didn’t look bad.

And it wasn’t bad. It was scrappy. It was not pretty. At best, it was mediocre football played for the first half hour.

And then Jack. Jack whom we shouted down at the CalFC match. Jack who many of us have repeatedly called on to give up the armband. Poetically, if it wasn’t going to be Boyd, it had to be Jack.

And then we just waited as the minutes ticked away. The longest hour of our lives. Six minutes of stoppage.

And then it was over.

Kings of Cascadia.

And my first thought was to go to the stadium.

It was my first thought when Spenny was sent packing, my first thought when Perkins was traded: a moment outside the stadium, to touch the outside of the cathedral, to pay homage to those who came before, and then a trip across the street to the Bitter End.

This will potentially be the last Cascadia Cup we celebrate at the Bitter End. Bittersweet, but sweet nonetheless.

And, thankfully, I was surrounded by folks who are every bit as sentimental and ridiculous as I am and we all piled into cars and went: long-term fans, bloggers, a capo, one of the founders of the Timbers Army and me.

I’m forever amazed at the series of events that has brought me to this place, to stand among these folks, in the shadow of what has often been described as our fortress, our cathedral.

Somewhere to the north of us, our boys and our Timbers Army brothers and sisters celebrate with the Cascadia Cup. And sometime in the next few days, the Cup will make its way home to Portland.

Nothing has really changed. This has still been an absolute mess of a season. We still have a GM that we desperately need to replace. We still have just one more game to play before the long, dark offseason commences.

But I saw heart out there on that field. I saw heart and passion and desire and all the things we’ve been hoping to see all season. The difference tonight is that we saw that heart and passion and desire from every player that laced up his boots to play.

Thank you, Timbers. Thank you all. You’ve done us proud, you Kings of Cascadia.

Lost in translation, part two

20 Oct

What have we established thus far?

We have a team of talented guys who’ve been hung out to dry.

We’ve got a black hole where a coach should be.

We’ve got…I don’t know what else we’ve got.

And where do we go from here?

We’re being set up to believe that our savior is coming, that Caleb Porter is the answer to all of our problems, our roadblocks, our inadequacies.

Guess what? He’s not.

He’s a guy who was offered a job, a seemingly pretty good job, and he took it. He thinks he knows what the job is but I imagine he’s going to be very surprised at what he finds. I have never wanted to be wrong about something more than I want to be wrong about this.

Someone asked me the other day what I would like to tell Porter before he gets here.

I’d start with two words: I’m sorry.

I’m sorry because this mess has been getting messier for a very long time and there’s little chance you’ll be able to get it cleaned up before the Kiwi finds a way to blame you for it. In fact, all signs point to him already finding ways to pin his poor decisions to you, Mr. Porter, before you’ve even arrived.

***

We’re coming up on the end of the season and, as I told the gentlemen at TheAxePDX yesterday, I’m not sure I have much more to say about the Timbers that hasn’t already been said. This, of course, was right before I wrote 1,200 words in the dead of night.

And it was before the next rounds of quotes came out. No, not yesterday’s video clip from The O. Newer.

Here. Please read.

When I was in high school, I took my first journalism class. I hated sportswriting. There were so may cliches and all the quotes from coaches were the same, regardless of what questions you asked them. I started to see patterns. A running joke among my friends and I – that continues to this day – is “Well, it’s a young team. It’s a growing year.”

So, here’s Gavin:

“We’re the second-youngest team in MLS and we hoped some of our younger players would mature a lot quicker this year.”

It’s a young team. It’s a growing year.

The end part of that quote is Gavin talking about how they, perhaps, should have been looking for older players, more rugged players. I take this to mean players with a bit more experience.

And then the train leaves the rails.

“Bright Dike was given the opportunity to play and he scored. Then we had a decision to make and decided to reward performance.”

Okay, let’s rewind a bit.

)Feel free to stop reading at any time. I’ll be straying into my fan-crush territory here. I willingly admit my biases lest they be pointed out to me later.)

Kenny Cooper. Older. More experienced. Perhaps not exactly rugged, but he’s turned out to be quite the goal-scorer, hasn’t he? Picked up by Man U, played in the reserves when he couldn’t quite make the first team, a couple years with Dallas, a couple with 1860 Munich. Ten international caps and four international goals and, after a bit of a bumpy period midseason, finished as the Timbers’ leading scorer last year.

So we trade him and use that pile of cash to buy someone with even more experience who is decidedly more rugged: Kris Boyd. (Yes, I know the most recent injury is not an indication of ruggedness, so here, remember this.)

Do I need to recite his resume? Again? Kilmarnock, Rangers, eighteen national team caps (if you don’t count the B squad or U21s). Here’s the big one: all-time leading scorer of the Scottish Premier League.

So, we brought him here and, like Kenny, sent him out to work by himself and then just couldn’t understand it when he wasn’t getting it done.

And then we went back to youth and (arguably) less experience.

Don’t get me wrong. I dig Dike. I dig Dike as a late-game sub who, freight-train-like, runs at keepers and scares the crap out of them and barrels over defenders who dare get in his way. But, despite his time with the Timbers (both USL and MLS), he’s still shockingly green.

This will be the question going into the offseason. We have all these forwards, young and green as well as older, experienced and, sigh, rugged. Will we follow the formula and blame the failure of the team on the biggest name and shuffle him off somewhere in January (or, more likely in this case, simply cut him loose)? Or will we stick with what we’ve got and try to make it work? Because it can work.

***

The Cascadia Cup.

Do you remember the anticipation, the expectation you felt in the preseason? I do.

The preseason tournament was a homecoming, a gathering of the tribe. I felt…lovestruck. There was such possibility, such joy, such hope. The preseason tournament, the first home win, such promise.

And the slide began. But it wasn’t that bad. It was early. Everybody just needed to calm down. We had a couple stupid losses, but we had them in between beating teams we had absolutely no business beating.

And then CalFC turned everything. We turned. We shouted down our own players. I hope I never see that have to happen again. I choose those words carefully. I know it had to happen.

I watched that game alone. Looking back, it feels less like a game I went to and more like a trial I endured and survived. It will become, perhaps already has, one of the legendary matches we look back to and tell new fans about for decades to come. Frustrating and necessary for the development of the team and, for me as a relative newcomer, for my understanding of the culture that surrounds the club.

A win against Seattle, losses at Colorado and RSL and then the world imploded.

Like many of my fellow bloggers, I’m looking back, rereading old posts and news articles and other ephemera. I’m listening to old soundbites and rewatching interviews. I’m trying to piece it all together, to make some sense out of what’s happened over the course of the season.

And I can’t. When Gavin implied that the importance of the Seattle match two weeks ago had somehow been lost in translation, he may as well have said the importance of the entire season had been lost as well.

The curve as I see it was confidence followed by disbelief followed by frustration and then confusion. Confusion lead the way for more frustration and then resignation.

I saw some sparks along the way, times when individual players spoke up or acted out in such a manner as to remind me that they were just as troubled on the pitch as we were in the terraces.

But mostly what I see when looking back is a team without direction. A team that could never figure out how to work together in a cohesive manner, most recently lead by a manager that had absolutely no desire to see them succeed.

I don’t understand that at all.

So, here we are, on the eve of our last derby, our last road match and our last shot at salvaging anything of tangible value from this emotionally wrenching wreck of a season.

And I have no idea if we’ve even got a shot at it.

***

I woke up early one morning this last week completely convinced that Boyd will be in the eighteen in Vancouver. And I woke up this morning knowing the boys would be flying out today and, for a brief moment, I considered camping at the airport in an attempt to find out who’s making the trip.

But I didn’t. I’m looking forward to the surprise.

Will our fate be sealed by Wallace and Palmer? Or will we find hope in Smith and Alexander?

Three points will salvage this season. Does this team have what it takes to get them?

4 Comments

Posted by octoberthoughtspdx on October 20, 2012 in Timbers

Lost in translation, part one

20 Oct

I carry two clubs in my heart.

One is arguably one of the most successful clubs ever to have played in the soccer world. A hundred and forty years of history, 54 league titles, 33 Scottish Cups, 27 Scottish League Cups. But that’s not why they’re my club. They’re my club because, despite being 4,500 miles away, they make sense to me.

The other club, my primary club, is here in my own city. And, despite the results on the pitch this year, they also make sense to me.

No. Wait. No, they don’t.

They make absolutely no sense to me whatsoever.

I love them, my Timbers. I love each and every single one of them. Even the idiots who bitch and moan on Twitter when we call them out for poor performances.

The ones I love the most are the ones who recognize when they’ve screwed up. The ones that come to us on Facebook and Twitter and in any other way they have available to them and apologize. Smith and Horst, and dear, dear Mosquera who has made a habit of telling us how pissed off he is after these ridiculous losses we’ve collectively experienced.

There has been much discussion since the beginning of the season about talent and fitness and whatever it is we think makes an athlete worthy to play for our badge and I’m still not sure what the right combination is. Whatever it is, we don’t have a lot of it.

We have a lot of really talented guys. We have a handful of guys who play with heart, even when they flat-out suck. We have guys who understand dedication to the badge and the expectation that comes with playing in front of the Timbers Army.

Stupidly, they’re not all the same guys. What we’ve got here is the Island of Misfit Toys. Mismatched, misused, broken, discouraged and sent off to fend for themselves with little-to-no appropriate guidance.

Now, if we had a coach that gave two shits, we might be in a much different place. But we don’t.

We had Spenny. Our beloved wee John Spencer. Something happened there I don’t understand. If Gavin is to be believed, we “overachieved” last season. If we did, the credit should go to John. He somehow managed to coach more from the players than Gavin, whose primary responsibility is to bring us the best possible players we can get, thought possible.

Let that sink in for a minute.

Gavin brought them here. Spenny coached them into overachievement mode. We fired Spenny.

Let’s go a little further, shall we?

The overachievement quote (yes, Gavin said it – it’s linked above) comes from the same set of quotes that includes such winners as:

“Players were a little bit complacent coming into their second year and they forgot what attributes it took for them to be successful…We’ve got technically gifted players. We’ve got young players with a lot of potential, but if you can’t work through adversity and if you can’t challenge yourself and raise your standard and set new goals week in and week out, we’re going to struggle.”

Set new goals? You have one goal: win.

And this:

“I would say that we lack some key characteristics to be successful right now.”

And, my personal favorite:

“As far as coaching, I coached as much as I can for right now.”

When Spenny was fired, we were four points out of playoff position. Four points. Yet we were close enough to the end of the world that we felt the need to remove the coach that made the previous season’s overachievement possible.

When Gavin issued the above I’m-done-coaching quote, he’d been at the helm for three matches.

Three. We’d lost all three. And then we lost a friendly. And then we lost another match. And then we drew. At home, in the fortress that is JWF.

I’m looking back over the schedule and the results and it barely even seems possible. We lost three before Gavin stopped coaching and then we didn’t win another match until the end of August. That’s nine games.

Obviously, Spenny was the problem.

Lost in the flurry of quotes in that article I linked a couple hundred words ago is the one where Gavin says he doesn’t think the playoffs are a possibility for this team this year. He said this, ladies and gentlemen, in July when there was plenty of time to put something together.

He’d given up. He’d given up and he dragged us all down with him in some sort of Kiwi death-spiral.

But then we won the Vancouver match. And a draw against Seattle at home kept us in the hunt for the only remaining piece of silverware we might be able to bring home.

All we had to do was go to Seattle and not screw up long enough to get a draw. But we didn’t. There’s no way we could have with the team Gavin fielded.

And here’s where the narrative starts to take divergent paths.

The first line out, before we were even back on the buses, was that Gavin had taken this match, a Cascadia Cup match in hostile territory in front of a traveling contingent of over 1,500 Timbers Army, as an opportunity to get a look at some players we don’t see play a lot.

What the holy hell. Then we should TOTALLY play Ricketts and Jewsbury. Because we have ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA what they’re capable of. Especially with Ricketts coming back from an injury.

The second line out, released just hours ago (presumably after the interim ginger has already left the country), is that something got “lost in translation.”

I beg your pardon?

After CalFC and Spenny and Perkins and our failed playoff hopes, the importance of the Cascadia Cup was somehow lost in translation?

This, my friends, is precisely why I do not have a press credential. Had I been there to personally witness that little gem, I would have come unglued.

Like so many, I follow many of the players through social media (stalker!) and have been lucky enough to interact with a handful of them. I see what they have to say, I see what my friends and others are saying to them. It did not appear to me that the importance of that Cup was lost on ANY of them.

The only person the importance of the Cup seems to be lost on is Gavin.

From the players, I saw fire and passion and the desire to bring home that Cup not for themselves, but for us.

I wrote months ago that I look forward to a day when we will gather on a rainy day in December in Pioneer Courthouse Square to see our club raise the MLS Cup. I want this for them, not for myself.

I hadn’t considered the possibility that the players would want the opposite: to win this Cup for us and not for themselves. This realization was stunning to me in the days and hours before the Seattle match.

There is zero possibility that this was “lost in translation.”

More in a few hours after I’ve slept a bit….

2 Comments

Posted by octoberthoughtspdx on October 20, 2012 in Timbers

Tags: Cascadia Cup, Gavin being Gavin, John Spencer

I don’t even…

08 Oct

Here’s another one where I start by telling you I don’t know where to start.

I woke up this morning inexplicably filled with love: love for my city, my club, my fellow TA.

And then I remembered Gavin.

I’ve had a headache ever since.

It wasn’t enough that we suffered through CalFC. This time, we got on buses, traveled 180 miles each way and were rewarded with what? Gavin’s try-outs for next season.

Hey, Gavin. That Cup means something to us. You disrespect us and the club by using what could have been the deciding match as a try-out for next season. This could have defined our season, could have salvaged what little hope we have left that we’re not the worst team out there run by the most incapable coaching staff available.

No, that’s not fair. This shouldn’t fall on the shoulders of the entire coaching staff. Just you, Gavin.

It was inexplicable, inexcusable to have fielded the team you did in Seattle. With Eric Alexander and Steven Smith on the bench? And, at this point, to play Ricketts over Bendik was asinine.

I mean, since we’re just doing try-outs for next season, right? Where were Richards and Kawulok and AJB and Renken and Rincon? If we’re just trying them out, where were the kids?

I’ll tell you where they were: not on the pitch. Most probably not even in Seattle.

What a line of horse-crap Gavin’s trying to feed us.

So, again, I’m going to say this:

I can’t believe we fired John Spencer. Those philosophical differences? Were they rooted in Spenny wanting to win and not being allowed to hold the reins long enough to steer us away from the cliff?

I don’t understand any of this.

I don’t think I’m alone.

And I don’t think it comes from admittedly knowing nothing about soccer. I know what I saw. I know what I wanted to see. They were not the same thing.

The #GWOut thing had kind of settled a bit. Somehow, I doubt that it’s going to stay settled if that Cup doesn’t get handed to us in Vancouver. Honestly, Gavin, if you don’t bring it back with you, just stay there.

I don’t ask for much. I want just two things: a line-up that doesn’t make me rage and that Cup. With Gavin at the helm, I doubt I’ll get either.

I’ll have more about the actual experience of #SeattleAway in a couple days. I’ll need a bit more time to process all of it.

4 Comments

Posted by octoberthoughtspdx on October 8, 2012 in Timbers

Tags: Eric Alexander, Gavin being Gavin, Steven Smith

It all comes down to this.

06 Oct

This is a cross-post with SlideRulePass.

I think we can all agree that this has not been the easiest of seasons. In fact, when we get right down to it, it’s been pretty ridiculous.

Inexplicable things have happened. Things we’d like to forget. Things we wish had never happened.

Through it all, we keep coming back. Despite our minor disagreements, we still stand united.

And now, with the Cascadia Cup on the line, an Army is gathering.

Eighteen buses at last count. Fifteen hundred tickets in the official allotment.

I’ve spent some time over the last couple weeks listening to the last half dozen or so episodes of Heart and Hand, a Rangers podcast. Bless them. If we could extract the accents, half the time, it would seem they were talking about the Timbers. Poor road form, unexpected and ridiculous losses snatched from the jaws of victory (including one recently that bounced Rangers from the Ramsden Cup) and a host of other similarities, not the least of which is a derby opponent whose fans seem more obsessed with Rangers than with their own club, despite the fact that probably won’t even face each other this year.

Gers are struggling, now in the third division of Scottish football, and as we saw when our Timbers began to struggle in the spring, people are calling for the manager’s head. I’m more than a little stunned by this. Without Ally McCoist, there might be no Rangers. Regardless, it was this quote from the pod that sent me off on this tangent:

“One of the frames from them was that there’s no room for sentiment in football. And that, I have to say, is the most stupid thing I think I’ve ever heard. Football is entirely, intrinsically built on sentiment. If it wasn’t, you would change every year and support the most successful club. The reason you stay loyal is sentiment…it’s entirely sentiment.”

Entirely sentiment.

Sentiment is why we continue. Sentiment is why, on a Sunday afternoon in October, over 1500 Timbers faithful will travel 180 miles into enemy territory knowing that our boys are underdogs.

“It means more,” one of my TA elders tells me,”because we do it together.” Sentiment.

We have survived this season because we’ve done it together. We’ve celebrated, we’ve mourned. We’re within a point of bringing home the Cascadia Cup and salvaging the season. And this we will do together.

For those unable to make the trip, our triumph will be broadcast Sunday on ESPN.

The soundtrack to our weekend, our Cascadia Cup derby weekend, can be found here. Be warned: it is not safe for sensitive ears.

Unfinished business: a few more words about (and to) Kris Boyd

21 Sep

EDIT: This was posted on Slide Rule Pass in the middle of the night last night, before word came down that Kris Boyd may be out for the rest of the season with the injury sustained at San Jose. I am, as you might expect, devastated. Read if you want. Stop here if you already saw this on SRP. Cheers!

***

I’ve been writing this for days now. I’ve only just decided to start over. Bear with me. I’m going to write fast and see if I can get the words out before they become too much of a mess. Apologies in advance.

I’ve been a little haunted since the reserves match Sunday. It was a fun game and, after Saturday (when I missed the derby to attend a memorial service), it felt…healing. It felt like going home after a long, drawn-out absence.

I never thought I’d see Kris Boyd play in a reserves match, but there we were. And he looked good. He was active and engaged and, within the first ten minutes of the match, had an assist and a goal.

And then it felt like the end.

Did we just see Kris Boyd’s last goal as a Timber?

My heart hurts to think about it.

After several games on the bench, limited minutes and a view from the sidelines of a derby match, last night’s injury against San Jose has set me on edge. Maybe that was it. Maybe that reserve match goal really was Kris Boyd’s last wearing our club’s badge.

A couple days ago, another member of the Timbers Bloggers Battalion posed this question: if I could bring back only five players next year, who would they be? I warned him that my picks would be entirely emotion-driven.

Eric Alexander, of course, because I know he can do more. Diego Chara for the effort he puts in every time he suits up for us. David Horst for the sheer fact that I want to see him beat the crap out of the OTHER Eddie Johnson sometime in the near future. Mike Fucito because I can’t help loving that little hobbit.

And, it will come as no surprise, Kris Boyd.

Boyd makes the list not just because of my ridiculous fan-crush, but because I think he has some unfinished business here.

If we go back to the Cubbie incident, we remember that Cubbie tried to paint him as the failed savior of the Timbers 2012 season and the reason John Spencer was fired. Lame.

But, watching Boyd struggle since then, it seems he took it to heart. He’s had flashes, momentary glimpses of the player he should be, but those have been few, separated by long instances of Gavin-imposed exile.

So, what happens now? The season is coming to a close, the playoffs are beyond our reach. Boyd’s one-plus-one contract is weighing on my mind.

Will he stay? Does he want to stay? Does incoming manager Caleb Porter want him to stay?

I want him to stay. I want him to succeed. I’m a sucker for a romantic comeback story and the scene is set for one here.

Here’s the thing: I loved Kenny Cooper. I will always keep a special place in my heart for Kenny. Soft-spoken, polite, misused Kenny Cooper.

And now, I wait to see what happens to Kenny’s replacement. Kenny, let’s remember, is currently among the league’s leading scorers. For another club that figured out how he works.

Here’s to hoping that we get a second chance at figuring out how Kris Boyd works. If anyone from the Timbers coaching staff needs me to point them in the right direction on this one, I’ve got a fair few Youtube videos I can point out.

So, here, because I feel I need to, a few words not *about* Kris, but to him.

Stay. If the choice is yours to make, I hope you choose to stay. The Portland chapter of your story is still being written. Don’t leave in the middle. Stay and become a legend, not just a footnote in our history.

I was there at the press conference when you were introduced to the Timbers faithful. I was there for your first goal at Jeld-Wen. I stood with you, shoulder to shoulder, at midfield during a season ticket holder event and looked up into the North End and I imagined a day in the future when I would tell my kids about this guy, this legendary Scottish striker that, by some odd turn of luck, ended up here in Portland.

I hope that, after I tell them about your rocky first year, I will be able to tell them about your triumphant comeback in your second year here, when you lead the league in scoring and lead our club deep into the playoffs.

Help me tell that story, Kris.

Give me a story to tell.

***

Since I’ve had a couple people ask today, the stupid scarf got handed off to my ticket rep on Monday. He’s assured me he will stalk Boyd until it gets signed. Above and beyond the call of duty. Seriously.

A few thoughts on San Jose.

20 Sep

This match should have been ours. This should have been our first road win in nearly a year.

Two reasons:

Joe Bendik.

In two Timbers/Sounders matches this last weekend, we went down two goalkeepers.

Thankfully, we still had Joe Bendik.

People seemed apprehensive about him. He’s young, he’s pretty green, he seems to get thrown into the fire pretty often. First MLS start against a high-scoring San Jose side? Seemed like a disaster waiting to happen.

But he held his own. He’s earned my respect.

David Horst.

I know of no other player who shows such passion on the pitch with such consistency. Yeah, he’s made a few missteps, but I’ll forgive a great deal from a player like Horst. I could not possibly love a player more than I did when he went at Wondo after the final whistle blew. And I expect that he might get a slap from the disciplinary committee, but I’m willing to take it because it shows his love, his desire, his passion, his emotion. He is truly one of us.

That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Heart and passion and emotion. That’s a debate that will rage for as long as soccer survives in this world.

In a contest of skill vs. passion, I will pick passion every single time.

Don’t mistake me. I still believe the talent is there. The ability to fit those pieces together in a way that makes any sense at all is not there. What was that? Square pegs, round holes.

I’m tired. I’m frustrated. I’m rambling. The real blog post, the one I’ve been working on for days, will be submitted to SlideRulePass tomorrow and, should Kevin decide it’s worth putting into the world, will be released well before Saturday’s game.

5 Comments

Posted by octoberthoughtspdx on September 20, 2012 in Timbers

Stay present

14 Sep

Derby week.

I kind of hate derby week.

I especially hate this one.

There is so much going on. So much vitriol (yes, I totally stole that word from Merritt), so much derision, so much…expectation. The hopes of an entire season rest in this one match.

And I won’t be there.

I’ve struggled with this all week. And I think I’m making the right choice. I know I’m making the right choice. A friend, one of my oldest friends, needs some support and I’m choosing her over the derby. I’ve spent a great deal of time trying to figure out how to be in two places at once but, alas, I’m mortal and I’m needed elsewhere.

“You need to be present where you are.” These are the words one of our elders gives to me when I tell him I won’t be at the match. Be present where you are.

And I give them to you with a few more words: unity, togetherness, family. Those, too, are his words.

So be present in the moment. Remember for me every minute of the match, from two hours before to two hours after. Be present and remember.

Be together. Be united. Be strong and loud and proud and confident. Be an Army. Be the Army that raises this club. Again.

The world will try to tell you that soccer (or football or fitba or whatever you choose to call it) games are won on the pitch and not in the stands but I will tell you otherwise. You impact this game. You influence these players. You can change the run of play. You’ve done it before. You will do it again.

Do it for me. Bring me three points and the Cascadia Cup.

3 Comments

Posted by octoberthoughtspdx on September 14, 2012 in Timbers

octoberthoughtspdx