Wednesday, September 23, 2009

City vs Arsenal: Ire and Fire



As a rabid 18 year old sports fan, my favorite time of year used to be March Madness. Pull up a bucket of KFC, a case of cheap beer brokered by a friend's older brother, and watch countless hours of college basketball, repeating day after day for two weeks.


How times, and tolerance levels have changed.

Maybe 'Madness isn't my thing anymore, since I'm no longer in college. Plus, I've realized that as a 5' foot 7" white guy I'll never make it in the NBA. But then again, maybe it was always the passion not the play that brought me in and kept me for so long.

I remember Princeton fans, educated and arrogant, chanting in other languages. While fans of the small institutions--Davidson, Gonzaga, various unheard-of catholic schools-- carried their teams beyond their actual talent.

Or, Duke fans in '89 throwing condoms on the court as a means to taunt an opposing coach about his philandering (No, it wasn't Rick Pitino).

Sure, college basketball probably still does stir passions for many. But the only other place I've ever seen an equally consistent level of passion is soccer, best in the form of English Football.

For better or worse, I saw that taunting, condom-throwing ire, that friction, and that passion this weekend. Yet no actual condoms needed be thrown.

The match up: Manchester City vs. Arsenal.


To draw an American baseball parallel, this would normally be the Cubs versus the Cardinals. Often a sweep in favor of the Cards. But imagine this year the Cubs just signed Derek Jeter, Ryan Howard, Chase Utley, and Albert Pujols. And a time machine arrives from 1923 with Babe Ruth. Got me?


Man City has a legend for a coach, lots of new money, lots of big names. But team chemistry is in question.
Arsenal has not won the trophy in a few years, but is a perrenial success story. With aware and tempermental fans (much like Cubs fans) Arsenal feels a need for a win not only to solidify their power house status, but also because they lost two key players, Adebayor and Toure, to big money at Man City a few weeks ago.


So the game kicks off and the level of play is world class on both sides. In years past, I have seen this match up end 4-0 to Arsenal, with the first goals scored in under 10 minutes. But it's different, and pleasantly agitating.
Players nudge and foul, badger the official, and cheap shot each other. Ornery fans want their piece but are stapled to the sidelines where they should be. Yet the play is still top shelf, not sloppy for a second.


City score once. Arsenal pull one back after halftime. Man City score once more, and lead the tussle 2-1 over Arsenal, unusual itself. But not before an late set of wild fires.


At 80 minutes, Toure picks up the ball mid-field, hits it long and finds Adebayor whose head strikes it to the back of the net. 3-1 to City.


As if 3-1 wasn't enough Ade sprints the whole length of the pitch, Forrest Gump style, to conclude with a taunting slide right in front of opposing fans. He gets booked, yellow card held high, tempers ignited but all damage done. We think.


Adding salt to the sting, City score a fourth goal, and the Arsenal fans --normally a pouty bunch-- surround me at bar look like Droopy Dog but with red scarves. Arsenal score a consolation to make it 4-2, but losing passions sear to humiliation, as their fans walk out while City fans celebrate like it is a new year.


Great score, great game. Both clubs scored goals galore, passed well, knocked the ball around, but that wasn't the point. The play is never the point. It's always the passion that fuels the performance, and the ire, angst, agony and thrill is what brings the fans back game after game, year after year. Players too. No wonder Brett Favre won't retire.


Whatever it is...If we could bottle all of this up and sell it, the world would be happy and healthy, and we'd all be billionaires.


Yours in joga bonito,
Andy