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Heartburn

16 Nov

Offseason, Day 20.

We’ve begun the speculation part of our program. We’re watching other teams fire their coaches and release their under-performing players. We’re discussing the impending arrival of Caleb Porter and who will be released from our roster.

Rumor. Conjecture. Heartburn.

Merritt says announcements may come as early as next week. I’m a big ball of messy emotions. I hate this part.

Sure, there are a few players I think I can more easily let go of than others (there’s a little Jamaican I wouldn’t mind driving to the airport), but, for the most part, I’ll be sad to see any of these guys go.

This is, if you’ll remember, the same group of guys that held such promise last spring. I’m still kind of stunned that this is how we ended up. It’s going to take a long time to get over that.

There are those around me who are hoping for a full-scale house-cleaning. Get rid of as many of them as you can and start from square one. I’m not, mostly due to my sentimental nature, on that side of the fence.

We have talent that’s been left untapped. I don’t think this chapter is over yet. There’s a lot left to be written.

I’d like to see another few words about Steven Smith and Eric Alexander paired on the left with an occasional paragraph or two with Eric in the center.

I’d like a page or two where David Horst wears the captain’s armband.

I want to see more words about Bright Dike, who seems recently to be writing his own story, and more about a half dozen of the younger guys. I want a chapter in which Darlington Nagbe becomes a superstar.

And, as you all know, I’m not done reading Kris Boyd’s comeback story.

Lots of the writers and bloggers that surround this team have been working through the current roster, deciding who they believe should stay and who should go. Some of the things written have been poignant, educated, inspired. Some of it has been drivel. The one constant is this: we don’t know who will go and who will stay and we have absolutely no say in the matter anyway.

I know who I’d vote off the island. I know who I’d keep. I know some of the ones I’d like to keep will probably be on the chopping block, but I will continue to love them and defend them from the idiots who never understood their value. Because that’s what I do. Because these are my boys.

Someone hand me the Tums.

 
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Posted by on November 16, 2012 in Timbers

 

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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.

 
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Posted by on October 8, 2012 in Timbers

 

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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.

 
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Posted by on September 21, 2012 in Timbers

 

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Survival.

05 Aug

Survival. I think that’s what we were all focused on today. At least I was.

Genetically ginger, I melt at about 82 degrees. When I got out of my car to hop on a train to Jeld-Wen this afternoon, it was 92. MAX was blissfully empty and air-conditioned. I briefly considered staying on board and riding all the way out to Hillsboro just to stay out of the heat.

But I didn’t. I dutifully went and got my wristband and retired to the air-conditioned darkness of the Bitter End where, in a further effort to survive the heat, I drank water instead of beer.

When it came time to head back to the field and get in line, it occurred to me that I could just stay here and watch the match, in the comfort of the darkened bar, with no line for beer and no chance of heatstroke.

But I didn’t. I rallied and got in line. In the sun. In 90+ degree heat.

Because that’s how we love.

People are complaining that we didn’t get the three points. People are complaining that the pace of the game was slow. People are complaining.

Shut it. It was 92 degrees. We didn’t lose. I’ll take the point.

I got the feeling that’s what we were playing for anyway. I’d like to think our boys were playing to win, but the realist in me (a creature you probably won’t hear from often) knows that they were playing to survive.

Five-zip at Dallas was stupid. I’m still shaking my head over that. The realist, brought out probably due to this weather, was waiting for another blow-out.

And she was pleasantly surprised to make it to the half scoreless.

The other me, the Believe Beyond Reason girl, was looking to a Boyd-Richards pairing to make things work. She was disappointed to find Alexander out of the eighteen (the Realist is having chicken and egg thoughts about this: did his dinner with Kevin Hartman Saturday night put him on someone’s shit list?). She knew Dike would replace Boyd in the second, but she thought Dike would hit the back of the net at least twice.

There’s the problem: neither the Realist nor Believe Beyond Reason girl have any idea what’s in the minds of our boys. What are they playing for? Pride in the badge? Love of club? The paycheck?

Here’s what we saw today:

Kimura’s run to the North End before the match started. Again. I love him more every time he does it. It tells me he’s in it for us and because of that, I’ll forgive a lot of errors.

Franck Songo’o and his post-match angry-tweet. He’s done that a couple times now and he’s winning me over. I like that he’s pissed that he didn’t win. He should be.

David Horst is back. Less so in this match than in the last, but his presence was still felt. I’m looking to you, David, to continue to play all-out. You are key. (Also, thanks ever so much for kicking Brek Shea in the face. Job well done.)

Diego Chara. I shudder to think where we’d be without him.

So, now we have ten days to mull over a draw at home against a team we should have beaten three times. Ten days before we face the only team with fewer points than we have.

Ten days. Ten days to craft a plan that will bring us as many points as possible. I still want that playoff spot. Yes: still.

Keep it up, Rose City. Don’t give up.

Also, both Scots started and neither spontaneously combusted. I’ll call that a win.

 
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Posted by on August 5, 2012 in Timbers

 

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Love is a battlefield

28 Jul

I love my Timbers. I do not just love them, I am in love with them.

Being in love is tough.

In sickness and in health, right? Through every triumph and tribulation. In torrential downpours and sweltering summer nights. Through the preseason and the offseason and the mid-season offseason.

Before, during and after CalFC, LAG and Dallas. Before, during and, looking to the future, after Gavin.

Through scoring droughts and and dodgy defending. Through threats of bans for dissension and reserved seating in the North End.

Through all of this.

As I write, less than seventeen hours from game time, the dread I was feeling earlier in the week is fading. Yeah, I said it. I was looking toward this game with dread.

I’ve been waiting all week for the next bit of bad news, waiting for some other ridiculous and/or terrible Timbers story to break. Instead, we had a quiet night Tuesday with Aston Villa and then radio silence.

Sure, there were a couple blips on the radar today: Eric Brunner back at practice after his most recent concussion and the possibility of seeing Trencito at training as early as September. And then we spent the rest of the day looking for Jake Gleeson at the opening ceremony of the London Olympics.

The sun will rise in a few hours here in Cascadia. The sun will rise and we will prepare ourselves for battle as we always do.

I want to see Boyd start. I expect to see Boyd start. Without him, the fire is lessened, the intensity lost. I want to see Alexander in the middle again. The wheels came off in Dallas, but I still think this is the best option for him. I’ll choose Smith over Chabala with apologies to Chewy. You show heart, Chewy, something I wish we saw more of from every player on the squad.

I’ll take Futty and Mosco and Horst and I’ll expect Horst to step up his game because I know he has it in him. It was about this time last year that I thought he really came into his own. I’m hoping for a repeat performance.

And here’s one I’ve never uttered aloud before: give me Rod Wallace. Painful to even see the words there, but there they are. Put him next to Franck.

And, to further illustrate the point that I should never be put in charge of choosing the starting eleven, put Dike and Richards up with Boyd.

Just this once, give Boyd the armband. That’s another thing you won’t hear me call for very often, but that’s where it should be right now: wrapped tightly around one of those inexplicably long-sleeved arms. We need his fire. We need his leadership. We need his experience. We need him to kick ass and not even bother to take names.

I’m leaving out players I want to see play. I would like to put fourteen, maybe sixteen guys out there. Zizzo and Fucito and Mwanga all deserve time. Can I play six forwards at once? This is just one of the myriad of reasons Gavin is the interim coach and I’m not.

Regardless of who starts, we will be there in full battle dress and in full voice. Win or lose, this is our team. We will not fail them. Ever.

 
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Posted by on July 28, 2012 in Timbers

 

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