I spent Saturday afternoon cooking like Wolfgang Puck with ten ounces of crystal meth in his system. Beef tenderloin and barbecued spareribs, dijon mustard potato salad, miso-butter broiled asparagus along with lots of hobnobs; smoked salmon and sharp cheddar (the twin towers of the Tillamook Bay coast), wasabi peas and peanuts, salsa-and-chips, berries and black grapes. A wide selection of craft beers with some Islay malt in reserve.
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And for all that the group had nothing in common but us everyone seemed to enjoy each other's company. After the match people lingered to talk, share observations and stories (a bunch of us gravitated to the kitchen; what is it about kitchens? Every party I've ever attended seems to end up in the kitchen at some point. Which reminds me - I need to go empty the dishwasher).
The only people I invited who didn't show up were, unfortunately, the guests of honor; the Portland Timbers.
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Perhaps it was first-match nerves. Perhaps it was just bad luck. Perhaps it was the misfortune of having to begin the new Major League Soccer season against last year's champion, the Colorado Rapids. Perhaps it was a little of all three.
But whatever it was, it sure was ugly.
The story in the newspaper claims the Coach John Spenser wrote the word "DESIRE" on the whiteboard in the locker room. He must had written it in Cyrillic, because whatever the team showed on the field, desire was not it.
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The backline looked especially dire, with centerbacks Brunner and Wallace utterly unable to shut down Colorado's Omar Cummings. And I know I pick on him, but why the hell did we spend a roster spot on Kevin Goldthwaite? He's a terrible defender; slow-footed yet tentative. You could excuse the slowness if he was a typical MLS bashing defender, but the man doesn't even knock forwards down.
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But I don't want to single out the defenders. The midfield was aimless, and both Cooper and Perlaza up front went nowhere, losing possession, or, after a potential Perlaza equalizer in the tenth minute, not even getting much of a look at goal.
This one was ugly, and I hope the entire team knows it.
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The miso-butter asparagus was outstanding, the company entertaining, and the whiskey peaty and rich.
Let's just make sure the soccer is as good next match, eh, boys? "Oh, Rose City, Soccer City...score a goal!"
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5 comments:
"I spent Saturday afternoon cooking like Wolfgang Puck with ten ounces of crystal meth in his system"
What a fascinating mental image!
Too bad about the loss, I know all too well what you went through having watched our local sports teams turn into zombies whenever they get to the play-offs. Hope it didn't sting too much.
Let's say that we were drunk by the half, high-schooled by bedtime.
Unlike most Portlanders, I tend to be fairly hard on those of my fellow citizens who play games for money. You don't HAVE to win. But you have to go out and leave everything on the field. You have to get beat, not beat yourself with mistakes and mental lapses.
The Timbers got schooled, and I'm not OK with that. Hopefully Coach Spenser isn't, either, and he's tightening up the Boys shot group for this coming weekend and Toronto.
What a delicious and healthy repast you served. Enough so to mitigate even such a "schooling", I hope.
Lisa: It was mighty fine. Alas, the tears flavor the wine more than the reverse...
"Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido"
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