God Bless America

On Saturday, USA took on Brazil for the key to the semi-finals in the women’s world cup. The game would be decided by penalty kicks only after a script of red cards, penalty re-takes, time wasting tricks and a whole lot of ‘oh no she didn’t’.

USA Women's head coach Pia Sundhage looks on after USA's historic win 

I watched the clock of reality and wondered every time the ball escaped from our offensive possession, ‘how in the hell did they pull this off?’

            I already knew the final score but here, during the replay of the game, I stare in shock. My nerves rising and falling with each pass, each gasp of the crowd, each shot and save. My eyes dart back and forth to the failing limit of time. Inside, I’m telling them to hurry. Outside, my logic knows that we win this fight but how we do it is the real miracle.  

            “No sense defending anymore,” says the announcer as USA defenders push up farther than they ever have this game, gambling with time and desperation. The team had played over an hour a man down. USA chants bellow from the crowd unimpressed with an unsportsmanlike Brazil. Bodies donning the black jersey manifest nothing but unbelievable focus. The clock reaches 118 minutes. That’s a lot of time to be discouraged. The United States were down 2-1 as the window of opportunity slowly glided shut. 

            Just like that I see the factors build to the play I have seen in the highlights. Like a time capsule, the replay isolates these fragile moments, freezing them in a time before the final result was human knowledge and the option of failure was still in its raw threat. Like a higher being I watch the players struggle with frustration and hope and yet I know what’s right before them. The fact that they don’t know is what makes me respect them even more.

            Their focus reminds me that good teams never let the components that look good on paper or the statistics of history deter them from believing in the potential of the here and now. Ten players can take on a team of “great players”. Ten players can take on what ever they need to, to keep hope alive.

             There were the refs, the bad calls and lets not forget the inexcusable and blatant unsportsmanlike conduct from Brazil. Indeed, poetic justice would prevail. Not at the hands of fate but by the skill of perseverance and athleticism.  

            But back to the time when the women’s US team didn’t know they were minuets from history. Back when they set up for penalty kicks- the cruel instrument of luck and destiny, the kind friend to calm and composure- depending on how you look at it, or what team you cheer for.

            Great wins that never get lost in the folds of the past have several things in common all while staying uniquely their own. One is the incredible feeling when a team is a group of individuals doing their jobs no matter what it takes and in doing so become a fierce unit whose barriers are insurmountable to even the most well-trained attackers.

            Great wins have glimpses of vulnerability, where the view of what could be lost is given to fans and the team. And great wins have villains where good defeats evil. We don’t get to say that everyday in the regular world but in the venue of sports we are given that paradox and every once in a while it is in fact, amazing.

            Great wins are manifested miracles in the fact that we as humans have accomplished them through our own power. It is humanistic and here, nationalistic in every sense.

            This isn’t even a final. It wasn’t a semi-final, but it was a game where our backs were against the wall and winning was the only option. Survivors survive, champions are never denied.  

            “I have no words…phenomenal,” said head coach Pia Sundhage. “Somebody’s writing this book. There’s something about the American attitude and finding a way to win. Unbelievable. It’s contagious- the great attitude, they bring the best out of each other.”

            “This is a perfect example of what this country is about,” said US forward Abby Wombach. Her goal in the 120^th minute tied the game and is officially the latest goal scored in World Cup history.

            “The history of this team, we never give up. This is a great team. Playing ten men… I don’t know if you can write a better script! We gotta win!”

            It’s true. They have to win now. And soccer has an incredible ability to easily allow the proud to fall. Hard. Only time will tell if this team can once again make the world see the American flag wave high over the women’s soccer world. 

Don't Push Me 'Cause I'm Close to the Edge

Incase you don’t know, it takes a lot for Boston DH David Ortiz to get mad. And in case you REALLY don’t know, he did in fact get mad on Friday. I give you the tale of the cleverly named baseball soap opera- to be named later.

            Papi went from the loveable big guy we know and love, to the agitated beast that charged the mound against the Orioles after a batter-pitcher duel where Ortiz thought the ball went a little too far inside. Ortiz hit a fly ball to center and as he casually jogged his normal route to first, something took him off his course.

            But what could possibly poke the bear inside Papi enough to get a reaction?            

            Apparently Oriole pitcher Kevin Gregg said, something to the effect of, “Hey, get down that baseline and run.”

             NOONE tells Papi to run.

            After both benches cleared (I personally enjoyed the concerned look on Pedroia’s face as he trotted out to help his friend) Ortiz was ejected, as well as Orioles Kevin Gregg (the pitcher in question), Jim Johnson and Sox catcher Jarrod Saltalamacchia.

            If it wasn’t perfect enough to see Ortiz throwing punches (he hit nothing) but that ESPN and several MLB watchdogs were recently criticizing the league’s frequent and possibly escalating number of ejections. We the fans had before us a front row seat to the game where baseball is just baseball.  

             Speaking of that sentiment, that’s exactly what Gregg tried to get at as he talked to reporters after the game.

            He starts off, “We’re playing the game of baseball.”

            (So far so good Gregg)

            “I think you’ve got to ask David what he was thinking. It’s 3-0 and you’re up seven runs and the opposing pitcher gets upset with you hitting a weak fly ball on a 3-0 count and not running.”

            (Alright, okay- see what you’re saying)

             “You know if he thinks there’s something wrong with me saying that then he’s got other things he needs to figure out in this game.”

            Well I get everything except for the part that crowned Gregg the God of sore losers. And also, if he is done “figuring out” the game then trash talk must be the only part of the game he’s concerned about.

            But wait, he makes another point.

            “You’ve got 17 inches on the plate you’ve got to use all seventeen inches, if you don’t you’re going to get your ass kicked every time you go out there.”

            (I’m going to let the irony of the score and that previous, “get your ass kicked” statement play out for yourself.)

             “So that’s what I was doing when I was out there, they’re going to whine and complain about it because they think they’re better than everybody else but no, we have just as much a right to pitch inside as they do.”

              Touche good sir. But yet again, there is something missing in Gregg’s logic. First, I missed the part where using all 17 inches of the plate meant using your mouth and second, like a pitcher’s right to pitch inside, (especially against a batter like Ortiz) every batter has their right to be nervous when a fastball comes careening a little too close to the goods if you know what I mean. Then add an inconsistent pitcher to the equation and the nerves tend to spike when that pitcher is indeed trying to put a thread through a needle.

            Now back to the story. When Salty asked Papelbon later what he thought about Gregg calling the sox a bunch of whiners? His answer was gloriously indicative to the current flow and tone of the sox.

            “What do we have to whine about?”

            As far as the comment about the Red Sox thinking they are better than everyone else, all I can say is grow up and talk to us when you’re leading the league. Let’s not forget where you were last year, and the many years before that, okay Orioles?

            I believe ladies and gentleman, we have reached a milestone here, and the first ever true story where shutting up, making no excuses and playing like a damn champion is sooo relevant on both sides. It was fun while it lasted but it only makes everyone look stupid. More so Gregg than Papi because Gregg was just plain disrespectful.

            Oh and P.S- Something to make Sox fans happy; ESPN’s midseason awards where they cleaned house. Maybe that’s why Greggy-poo is so jealous.