I'm utterly whacked, it's 1:15 in the morning, and I have to get some sleep.
But I can't.
Because tonight was one of those times when you feel like your skin is electric; you are shot full of energy like the glowing filament of an incandescent light. As tired as I am I'm still floating and I haven't come down.
Because 18,000 other people and I made the old Civic Stadium rock and roar like it was a living creature and a thunderous one, at that.
Because something as simple and fundamentally silly as eleven men kicking a ball made the heavens open amid the thunder of drums and the songs of thousands of voices.
Because for just a moment, the brightly-lit turf seemed so green, so pure, that you felt like if you could step out onto it you could run and run and never tire. That you could sing and shout and your voice would never crack and never fail.
Because the supporters sang their love of the Game, and the Team, and the team took that love and made it a force, gave it hearts and lungs and legs and sent it flying into the night sky and left us all shattered and hoarse, reveling in the love, and the joy of victory hard-won, and the almost-frightening power of the voice of that love that rose up over the darkened city, over the streets and bridges, over the rivers and the wooded mountains and the cold peaks glimmering under the stars until the daylight returns to awaken us all to our daily lives again.
Because...
There's a party in Portland;
Nobody's sleeping tonight.
But I can't.
Because tonight was one of those times when you feel like your skin is electric; you are shot full of energy like the glowing filament of an incandescent light. As tired as I am I'm still floating and I haven't come down.
Because 18,000 other people and I made the old Civic Stadium rock and roar like it was a living creature and a thunderous one, at that.
Because something as simple and fundamentally silly as eleven men kicking a ball made the heavens open amid the thunder of drums and the songs of thousands of voices.
Because for just a moment, the brightly-lit turf seemed so green, so pure, that you felt like if you could step out onto it you could run and run and never tire. That you could sing and shout and your voice would never crack and never fail.
Because the supporters sang their love of the Game, and the Team, and the team took that love and made it a force, gave it hearts and lungs and legs and sent it flying into the night sky and left us all shattered and hoarse, reveling in the love, and the joy of victory hard-won, and the almost-frightening power of the voice of that love that rose up over the darkened city, over the streets and bridges, over the rivers and the wooded mountains and the cold peaks glimmering under the stars until the daylight returns to awaken us all to our daily lives again.
Because...
There's a party in Portland;
Nobody's sleeping tonight.
4 comments:
Wait until the game on the 14th, you will be crying in your beer.
On the 14th, if your Flounders win, I will be singing "Rose City 'Til I Die", and cheering our Boys for playing proudly for the City of Roses. I'll miss the extra fizz of the win, of course, but that's what supporters do. I'll be DRINKING my beer in a toast to the Pride of the Cascades, the Boys in Green and White.
Sure, the victory was sweet. But it's not about the victory, now is it? The victory is just the reward.
It's about supporting your team rain or sun, victory or defeat. About being there to help sing the Boys on to victory or buck them up in defeat. It's about being part of that great Voice that lets your team know you're there with them, that if they play their hearts out for you that you will lend your heart out to them.
It's kinda sad that you came all the way here to taunt rather than to tell me about YOUR love for YOUR team.
But then maybe that's the difference between us, eh?
Flounders! Good comeback. I probably deserved it.
A team named for a fish is OK by me though, they don't flaunt chainsaws and double-bitted axes. Your team PR guys have been watching too much of Ax Men.
Sillier than...Mariner Moose?
Mmmmmmokay.
But, anyway, that was hardly a real witticism, since you all have been "Flounders" down here since forever; it's your Orca fetish thing (MUCH more authentic than axes and chainsaws, I know, given the amount of...ummm...orca sold in Pike Place Market?). At least your nickname here is more respectful than Vancouver's. Their long habit of kicking our ass has given us a real disliking for the Whitecraps.
Personally, I don't have any heartburn for any supporter anywhere, so long as he or she is there for the team and the love of the game. The young hoolies who go just to get aggro and use the match to brawl with the visitors and take the piss that get up my nose. But win or lose, if you're a Qwest to support your team, that's jake with me.
Come next week I hope we whip your team.
But I hope you're there shouting and singing your heart out for them, and letting them know that you're proud of them and to be an Emerald City Supporter. That's what makes this the world's greatest game.
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