Filed under: Major League Soccer, Supporter Culture, US Soccer | Tags: Des Moines Menace, des moines register, Open Cup, Soccer
Last night, when I read Chris Cuellar‘s Des Moines Register article about today’s Menace vs Sporting KC Open Cup match, I was pretty clear in my feelings that it did not reflect the magnitude of the day, nor a proper “so you’re saying we have a chance” feeling. Sure, he’s a journalist, but we could sound a tiny bit more excited at the possibility of a win for the Menace tonight, because however unlikely, it is a wonderful possibility. I wrote my thoughts about the game here on my blog, and left a comment on the Register’s website and left it at that. But then you wonderful people started sending me other things people wrote about our Menace, and one piece I must share here, because it’s wonderful, and what I wish I’d written about our guys. So thank you, Jason Lemire, Freelance Soccer Writer (310.867.0977 ~ lemire.jason at yahoo dot com), you can guest blog for me any time:
Why the Des Moines Menace represent everything that is right with soccer in America.
Everyone expects Sporting KC to wipe the floor with them tonight. Even Adrian Healy, in his heart of hearts, must know. Surely he must. This team of amateurs. This team of school boys. This team of hopefuls and maybes and never will bes.
Tonight, in their US Open Cup game against Sporting Kansas City of Major League Soccer, the Des Moines Menace of the PDL, collectively, haven’t got a chance in hell.
But… what if they did? What if the impossible happened? What if they won?
What would it mean?
The pessimists would decry the result as proof that MLS is not progressing, that soccer in this country will never reach the lofty heights to which it aspires. They would probably publish an article about it on Grantland. And they would be wrong. Dead, stinkin’ wrong. Ten years ago, maybe. Ten years ago, when Major League Soccer was hanging on by the thread of Phil Anschutz’s argyles. But today? Tonight? A victory for the Des Moines Menace would not signal the futility of soccer in this country. Quite the contrary. A victory by the Des Moines Menace tonight would signify something beautiful. Something incredible. Something profound. But to grasp the profundity, we must first consider this:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Des_Moines_Menace
Like most team pages, the first section in the contents bar is club’s history. Not a big deal. Only, in the case of the Des Moines Menace’s Wikipedia page, their history entry is 2,779 words long. That’s just the entry on the team’s history! Not only does that crush SKC’s page, it crushes the pages of most EPL teams.
Of course, anyone can edit a Wikipedia page. Are we really to take draw conclusions from website that allows, among other things, this?
In a word. Yes. Because the Des Moines Menace’s Wikipedia page is a clear indication that there are people out there who really, really, care about this team, and as any support of soccer in the US will tell you, the dreaded specter that stalks our beloved sport in the night is not losing or disappointment, it’s apathy.
So the Menace have a ridiculous Wikipedia page. So what. So this.
His name is Kyle Krause, and his chin will eat you for friggin’ breakfast.
He is, among many other things, the CEO of Kum & Go convenience stores. He is a wealthy man. He is also the majority owner of the Des Moines Menace. Has been since 1998. Why? It’s sure as hell not for the money. No, Kyle Krause is one of longest standing owners in North American soccer because he loves the game, and he loves what the team means to his community. I don’t have a direct quote from him, but I also suspect that he loves the fact that his team has led the PDL in average attendance for eight of the past ten years. (Averaging 3,800 fans per game, in the middle of football country, is flat out impressive.)
So the team has a dedicated owner with a good chin. A really good chin. And the team has good fan support. So what? So this.
It’s an oil painting of Mike Jeffries. At least I think it’s oils. It could be acrylic. The point is, where’s your painting of you? Oh, that’s right, you don’t have one. Because you’re not Mike Jeffries! (Mr. Krause, if you are reading this, I’m sure you have an oil painting of yourself too. Please excuse the above sentence aimed at lesser readers.) This swarthy, painted gentleman was not only a Herman Trophy winner, not only the head coach of the Dallas Burn, not only a scout for Bob Bradley’s 2010 World Cup Team, not only a trophy-winning MLS assistant coach and double major in Electrical Engineering and Public Policy… he is the head coach of the Des Moines Menace. And he is the coach of the Des Moines Menace because he loves developing young players; and I don’t have a direct quote from him either but suspect he also relishes the opportunity to be a head coach again for an organization that truly appreciates his dedication to his craft. The fact that Mike Jeffries, with his resume, is coaching in the PDL, is a sign of just how far our sport has progressed since the good folks in Manhattan thought it wise to name a pro soccer team after an uncomfortable physical condition (and I’m not talking about the Wiz).
So the Menace have a head coach steeped in American soccer history with connections all over MLS and a passion for developing young players. So what? So this.
His name is Matt Homonoff and you’ve never heard of him. You’ve never heard of him because his resume reads more or less like this:
2003 – 2005 DC United Ticket Sales Representative
2006 – 2010 DC United Corporate Partnerships
2011 – 2012 FC Edmonton Dir. of Sales
2012 – Present Des Moines Menace General Manager
You’ve never heard of Matt Homonoff, but chances are you have never savored your team winning the way Matt savored the Menace’s Open Cup victory over Minnesota’s NASL team last week. You’ve never savored a victory like he did because chances are you’ve never put in an 80-hour work week, or a 2,500-hour work year, for “your” team. Chances are soccer is a game you love, but it doesn’t put food on your table. But for guys like Matt, guys (and plenty of women too) who are in the trenches of selling tickets and booking sponsorships and securing venues and managing the hundreds upon hundreds of small and mighty details that go into making soccer a reality in this country, there is no off season. Soccer is a game that is lived, day in and day out. And all of this bears mentioning because contrary to what some might believe, there is an army of people like Matt out there doing everything they can to grow our game, and the fact that a team in the fourth division of soccer in this country has a GM with the chops of Matt Homonoff says an awful lot about how far our sport has come. That’s right. Matt has serious chops. He’s also eaten a few chops in his day. Lamb chops. That’s okay. It’s not his job to be svelte. He’s a GM.
The Menace are a fourth division team with a passionate GM. So what? So this!
My God, he looks like he’s 12 years old. This, ladies and gentlemen, is Brandon Fricke. He grew up in a little place called Grimes, Iowa, which is, according to my sources, the single most Midwestern place in the entire universe. Young Brandon just wrapped up his sophomore year as a defender for Butler University and now plays his summer ball for little club called the Des Moines Menace. It was his goal, in the 86th minute, against the NASL’s Minnesota United FC, that propelled the Menace into their game against Sporting Kansas City. He is also the former captain of the Iowa ODP team. Isn’t that special. Local boy does good for his local PDL team, setting the stage for the impossible task of playing against the team who developed him in the first place! That’s right. Brandon Fricke is actually a former member of the Sporting KC Academy program. This is poetry, people! Poetry!!! Perhaps, in the near future, once Brandon has earned his degree in, we can only assume, dimples, he will pursue a professional career in soccer. But until that day comes, he is a member of an amateur PDL squad going against the big, bad Sportings from Major League Soccer, trying to show his old team that he still has the talent and drive that caught their eye so many, misty years ago, and with all that being said you can’t tell me you’re not rooting for the kid, or his team. And the truth is, every player on the Menace has a backstory that is just as compelling.
So let’s review. A dedicated owner in it for the love of the game. The most dedicated fanbase in all of amateur soccer. A head coach returning to his player development roots. A GM who represents every unsung hero of US soccer’s ascent over the past 20 years. A roster full of redemption stories and half realized dreams, all clawing and scratching their way towards the light of a pro contract.
No. The Des Moines Menace do not stand a chance against Sporting Kansas City. Not under the lights of Sporting’s $200 million dollar stadium. Not under the withering glare of the amateur/professional divide.
But if they did? If they somehow, somehow did. What if Kamara hits the woodwork three times in the first half but can’t finish; then, Kansas City native and former MLS League Pool GK Scott Angevine has the game of his life and keeps the Menace in it until the 65th minute when SKC’s Besler-less backline botches an offsides trap, putting Des Moines’s Jimmy Tulloch in one-on-one against Jimmy Neilsen who has momentarily lost focus pondering the wisdom of releasing his autobiography midseason; Tulloch scores, tells the SKC fans to quiet down, and the Menace go on to hold their improbable lead for the next 29 minutes in a flurry of defensive heroics that include Fricke’s dimples and Krause’s chin making three goal line clearances in stoppage time.
However it happens, if the Des Moines Menace of the PDL win tonight against Sporting Kansas City of Major League Soccer, it will not be a sign that the sky is falling on our beloved game.
No. It will be a sign that the Soccer Gods, the same Gods that have steered the fates of so many other underdog clubs around the world, in tournaments just like this, have finally seen fit to visit our shores.
If the Menace win tonight, the victory will be etched in the minds of soccer fans for years to come. In the little town of Grimes, and the not so little city of Des Moines, it is a story that will be told for decades.
If the Menace win tonight it will be a sign that our beloved game has finally begun to develop more than just players… we have begun to develop legends.
Filed under: Major League Soccer, Supporter Culture | Tags: Des Moines Menace, Sporting KC, US Open Cup
What a week! We had a great trip to watch the Menace win in Minneapolis, and now here it is, game day in Kansas City for the 3rd round. I’m pretty amped up for this thing, and the Des Moines Register’s article left me wanting more, so here it is, the story I want told about the Des Moines Menace.
This week has been a roller coaster, with Adrian Healey tweeting and talking about our Menace, getting our 15 seconds of fame on Big Head and the Red Head (at minute 33) at the high points, and Taylor Twellman’s snarky, disbelieving tone every time he says “Des Moines Menace” at the low, but even then…he was snarky about us on an MLS broadcast! It’s been a great week to be a Menace fan.
Now we have 2 full buses of people committed to go down to Kansas City in a few hours, to see if we can put the brakes on Sporting’s plans to keep the Open Cup trophy. Our PDL David to their MLS Goliath. My first chance to see Sporting Park NOT from the Members Stand.
I know we’re a long shot, but there’s a reason we play the games. It’s like my husband was saying tonight, the difference between success and failure in professional sports is tiny thin line, let’s call it 2% more mental focus. All high level players have the physical prowess to win matches. It all comes down to the focus, mental clarity, and speed of thought to make it happen on that particular day. Do you have the clarity that allows you to see that strike, and have your laces hit it just perfectly at the moment when everything is on the line? Who will have their Lafester Rhodes day tomorrow, and light it up like we’ve never seen?
On any given day, any one player can make or break it for the whole match. When we played in Minneapolis last week, the Menace dominated the first half, and looked like a sure thing. In the second half, I was positive that Minnesota United would win, they were beating us to the ball, out shooting, out possessing….but like in so many soccer games, it came down to one Menace player timing his jump better than his defender, and Menace keeper Scott Avengine not allowing anyone to make it back. That’s all it takes to win in Open Cup or any other game.
The Menace is in their 20th year, and I have watched them all 20 years. This season feels like something special. We have a new GM, Matt Homonoff, fresh off the NASL circuit, and every time I talk to him, I get more excited about soccer in Des Moines. We have Mike Jeffries, (not the evil one…google Mike Jeffries soccer) a former USMNT player and former MLS coach. I like our player roster…I mean, I barely know them, but these guys played really well together in Minnesota, and they’d hardly met each other yet. I’m excited to see how they look against an MLS side after another week playing together.
They say the third time’s the charm, and this is the 3rd appearance for the Menace against a Kansas City MLS team (let’s all be thankful that the Wiz years are over). So, Sporting KC, I’ll see your #CupStaysHere hashtag, and raise you a #ThirdXCharm for my beloved Menace Soccer. Go get em, boys!
After Robbie Rogers return to MLS last night, I was chatting with my friend and fellow supporter, Justin Plasket, about how he felt about Rogers’ appearance. We’ve had several great talks about our frustrations: mine as a straight woman refereeing men’s soccer, and his as a gay man who likes sports. I asked him to write his reaction. What I got was more than I bargained for, and I hope you’ll read it for every kid who’s ever played youth sports in your presence, and let’s just get to the place where it’s OK we’re still talking about Robbie Rogers:
“And the blood will dry underneath my nails. And the wind will rise up, to fill my sails so you can doubt and you can hate but I know no matter what it takes, I’m coming home.” – Skylar Grey
I’ve always been sort of the runt of the litter – not so much in the sense of physically or psychologically deficient (though THAT quantification is enough of a hotspot/soap box for me to spark an ENTIRELY different post) but more the outsider. The Japanese term for it is a “Gaijn” means more than outsider, as it carries connotations of not knowing one’s self or history or not having a place in the world. Sort of like being that kid you see in the movies who is always watching everyone else enjoy the party, but knowing his place was on the outside, and it was his dues to pay, or some BS like that, that somehow made the pill easier to swallow.
There’s a picture of my soccer team from when I was 10 years old – we wore red in that summer’s Cedar Valley youth league – and in that picture, I’m crying. Before the picture had been snapped, the kid next to me had punched me twice and called me a “faggot.” But that’s not what made me cry. I took the hits and heard that word and felt its burn and I knelt there in the back row of players, right in front of the coaches, knowing that I still had a place on this team and that Andy (the name-caller) would still count on me on game day, because I had earned my place and this was a game that I loved – and playing it well – and nothing else mattered. Even knowing in my heart that he was remarking on my sexuality (and that I knew I was gay) didn’t matter. I resolved it in my head: “yes, I’m a faggot who is going to save your ass when I clear a ball off the line because you’re taking the near post” or something like that. What made me cry just moments before the cameraman snapped the picture was that when I turned back to smile at my dad – to show him that I was “invincible” and could take anything for the game that I’d come to love – and my Dad wouldn’t look at me. All he could muster was “don’t act like what he’s calling you if you don’t want to be called that.” I was ten. I’ll never forget those words from my dad – he couldn’t even bring himself to say “gay” or “homosexual” or “faggot.” Looking up and not seeing his eyes, and feeling the rest of my coaches’ eyes – like they were begging me to look to them instead, and feeling like they just wanted me to stop embarrassing them. My 10 year old heart broke and I lost it.
That was it. That was the moment my spirit took a break from the game. I began to spiral away from the pitch and the game I loved (I even had an Orange Ball… how cool was I? What kid has an Orange ball?) and into a dark abyss of something I never truly understood beyond “Aaron is cuter than any girl I’ve seen and wow… boobs are interesting but they don’t do anything for me.” The feeling was gone. There was just a whole big NOTHING and my still-developing hands couldn’t grasp onto Nothing.
In the flash of the photo snapping, something changed. I’ll never forget the photographer’s face as he practically begged my coaches – and ultimately, my father – to let him take another where I was more “together,” but it didn’t happen.
I played one more season, moving up from right back to right wing and there was Andy, in my old spot at back, playing as if we were best friends and teammates. We were the Sky Blue Team and we were flying high… making it to some final of some competition that I couldn’t tell you what it was. Andy rode to the tournament in my Dad’s yellow Mustang with me as we blared Weezer’s Blue Album with the windows down. We WERE friends and teammates.
My last game, I sent a cross into the box that led to a goal and later, in the final minutes, found myself in a spot to rifle a shot into the keeper’s nose… and collect the rebound, finishing the play in a goal before collapsing to my knees to make sure the keeper was alright. At the end of that game, I couldn’t tell you I would step away from the game for the better part of 15 years. All I could tell you was that I was happy.
I was happy because the things that had bothered me about myself never ever manifested on the field. All I felt was the touch of the ball on my instep or laces, the junky pollen in the air as it filled my lungs on some days, the embrace of my teammates after we scored, and the pats on the back from the coaches, even when we were getting blown out. I was a Soccer Player. I was a Right Winger. I was a good person…
And when I stepped off the pitch and took off my shoes, I hated myself. I hated that I didn’t KNOW myself. I hated that I didn’t WANT to know myself. And most of all, I hated that I had nobody to look up to.
I used to dream that my favorite player, Alexi Lalas, would stand over me when Andy would call me a “faggot” and get in his face about it. Why couldn’t I play too? I was good. I had earned my place on the field and what should anything else matter? Alexi would tell him, and we’d high five and then he’d go and score in another World Cup and the world would be right…
Except that never happened. I hung up my boots and it would be 15 years until I truly found Soccer again, this time as a supporter.
Landon Donovan… the Miracle Minute… and I felt something. I saw the ball escape the keeper on Deuce’s shot and Landon blast it home and for just a moment, while leaping off my bar stool and being showered in beer, I stopped being “Gay but not Obviously Gay Justin” and was just an Outlaw. I was hugged, picked up, swung around, and maybe even kissed? It felt good and I wanted more.
I’d always had an allegiance to Celtic FC (I’m Scots/Irish) and grew up with the Fire but as the years wore on and I slowly began to return to the game as a supporter, I felt like I needed a change. Maybe it was the Xbox logo or maybe it really WAS that Rave Green that sunk into my soul the moment I saw the Sounders on ESPN one night, I’ll never know. I became a fan. Watching the game again felt close to what I felt as a kid. Who I was didn’t matter when who I rooted for was concerned… and I loved this game so, SO much.
And then that day. My little brother suggested we go to the USOC Final in KC. It was Sporting KC hosting the Sounders, and I went. Everything from tailgating to the march in, to swinging my scarf, to feeling utterly defeated as EJ’s PK soared up to meet the International Space Station… the world of being a supporter truly opened up to me. I was hooked.
A few months later I was back in KC for the USA vs. Guatemala game (this time, supporting the WINNING Side). I was at a point in my life where putting on the jersey or the scarf was no longer a way of covering up or hiding… and for the first time, I truly felt like I belonged when I could feel the fabric against my skin. Nobody had a label. Nobody’s mannerisms defined him/her. We wore the hoops, the sash, the all-white… the Crest. That made us one. THAT is what mattered.
… And I was finally Home.
And I loved it. I met Tanya. I met Doug. I met Herculez Gomez at a bar after the game. I was with my best friends – old and new – and never once did I question who I was or if I belonged. I just simply knew.
See, I’m not really the type of dude who ever fit in anywhere before. Even now in my early-mid 20s, I had been displaced from whatever community where I felt I should belong. I’ve been told I “act too straight to be accepted” by the gay community (yes, even the gay community can have narrow minded people,) but I’ve always been “gay Justin” to my straight friends. But there in the supporter community, I was, for the first time in my LIFE, truly belonging. Which brings me, finally, to my point:
Tonight was March 26th, 2013. I watched one of the worst played Sounders games in recent memory. I’ve felt and remembered all of what is written above on top of having a really bad day. Then, minute 76 happened.
Robbie Rogers, an out gay man, stepped onto the field for the first time since coming out. And everything above stopped mattering.
I always thought I’d respond to seeing him on the field again as a “well, I’m smiling because I should smile” type of thing (and I’m not really that prone to being emotional). Even seeing him warming up, I really felt nothing more than frustration at the amateur show from Seattle’s backline and complete longing for Ozzie (out with Injury). And then I saw the sign. 19 in red, 14 in green…. and I lost it.
I’m a 24 year old man. I never really cared too much about “gay” stuff (the whole “outcast” feeling allowed me to just shrug it all off) and so it couldn’t be JUST that. I saw his first step onto the pitch and it started to hit me – this wasn’t just because he was gay… it was so much more. For the first time, I saw something in the Nothing. I saw something to latch onto.
For the first time, that 10 or 11 year old kid who was still inside my soul – who took off his boots and held them as he sobbed and didn’t even know why he was crying… for the first time, he saw something in that Nothing… And that kid – that part of my soul – he was wearing the Red/White Hoops when he finally stepped forth into the light.
It was also the final piece I needed. The sport that I loved – that gave me a home for so long, even after I stepped away – finally saw that last part of me step out from the darkness and into the world. I’m a gay dude. I’m a supporter. I still try and pretend to play on occasion.
And when I put on the crest on my replica (I’m a college kid, kinda all I can afford at the moment…) USMNT jersey or my Sounders’ Scarf, the only thing that matters is that I’m Justin: a Sounder and an Outlaw.
THIS is what Robbie Rogers has really done. It’s not just about the whole “gay” thing. It’s about finding the courage to be yourself. It’s about finally finding that one thing to latch onto and help yourself out of the darkness and Nothingness. And it is about the Family that helps you do it.
For me, it is about standing on that table or that stool or in those bleachers and singing/shouting:
“Everywhere we go // people wanna know // who we are // so we tell them // we are the U.S. // THE MIGHTY FUCKING U.S!”
Thank you, Robbie, for helping that last part of me to finally let go. Thank you MLS for supporting everyone being above the line. And most importantly, thank you Outlaws, ECS, Green Brigade (at least in the US) for always seeing me as more than just one aspect of who I am. To the teams and the players who have quite literally saved my life in the past, thank you. To the supporters who have become my Family, thank you. To all, I love you. Wherever you go, I’ll follow.
I’ve come home.
See you in Seattle.
Yes, we all knew it was coming. Of course New York would get a second team….we can’t go around making sense or anything. And I enjoyed it when it was announced. First thing in the morning, my Facebook wall blew up with posts ranging from apathy to instant hatred from my soccer friends around the US. It seemed like there was something for everyone to hate: New York, the Yankees, Man City, take your pick. I began to consider the real possibility that the marketing strategy was to have a team that so many people would despise, to the point where the team is supported by away fans coming to every game.
Then the afternoon rolled around, and my “non-soccer” friends started posting about it. (Disclaimer: I’m originally from New Jersey) People were posting things about “once NYCFC kicks off, does that mean Red Bulls will officially become Jersey?” Which make SOOO much more sense than expecting Jersey fans to root for a NYC team (if you don’t believe me, listen to Jeff “Jersey” Bradley). At least RBNY play in Jersey… But really, I still don’t get it…I don’t see anything in Red Bulls attendance numbers that scream “That area needs another team, STAT!!” But whatever…I wasn’t going to write anything about it….busy with the Open Cup and all that.
Then I heard Alexi Lalas talking during the MLS LA vs Seattle game, talking about how Don Graber had called him (yeah, Twellman, he didn’t call you because he pissed that you can’t say “Des Moines Menace” with a serious tone…work on it). Graber was saying that he didn’t feel Lalas’ concern that people weren’t going to be into NYCFC because of their Manchester City, Yankees, or other partnerships, was warranted…people would follow a team regardless.
Excusemewhat?
Does Graber really know any supporter? I have made very few rational decisions about teams I support, and even fewer about teams I hate, and I’m not alone. During the Champions League final, I was talking with a Menace front office, about how much he hates when the Menace has to wear a kit that reminds him of his most hated rival. Just the matching colors…not the actual kit of his enemy. Rational? No. Understandable, yes…to every supporter there.
I don’t know what’s going to happen with NYCFC, but very little of it makes sense to me, in my 20th year kicking around US Soccer. It’s above my pay grade to make these decisions, but I still say building soccer here in flyover country is smarter money than yet another in New York metro. I wish them luck, because I think they’re going to need it.
Filed under: Family Fun, Supporter Culture | Tags: Des Moines Menace, Minnesota United, Open Cup, Soccer, sports
It’s just before midnight on our way home from the Des Moines Menace win at the US Open Cup game in Minnesota, basking in the late night glow of our road win. I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to make this trip. I missed the Menace home opener to a migraine, and yesterday, my day started with a 6 AM wakeup to 5 year old screaming in ear infection pain. Having already been though tubes with him, I sure as heck wasn’t going to OK a roadie to stand in the rain and get home at 1 AM not even 24 hours into antibiotics. But then…talking to my mother in law about the game, his illness, my general aggravation that my darling husband had just assumed he could take my car on this trip….she said, “Just bring him over here, we’ll watch him so you can go.” Dumbfounded, I said “No, really, I just wanted to vent, I’m OK with staying home with him.” To which, my amazing mother in law replied, “I know you really like going to these games, it’s OK, bring him.” Oh glorious, happy day of marrying so well, even your extended family is awesome.
So five minutes prior to departure, I got added to the travel roster, while I was still thinking about NYCFC and writing my book, so even know, I barely know how to react to this day. So I’m coping out, and listing what’s awesome about today:
1. My mother in law: Thank you Caryl, for making my supporter life meets mama world a tiny bit easier.
2. Lower League, part 1: One of my MLS friends posted on FB today that he was doing X while his MLS team was playing in Open Cup because “I’ll care about Open Cup when you do, [MLS Team Name].” That’s just lame. Every team should care about Open Cup….except you, Sporting…don’t you worry about our little PDL club.
3. Lower League, part 2: I used to wish that I could magically live in Des Moines AND have it be and MLS city. And I’ve had soccer-loving friends say they could never live in a city that’s lower league. But you know what? Lower league is awesome. We can walk up to our players after every game. Our owner and GM are accessible, and love the game in a way I don’t often see in the MLS. I especially loved watching our new GM Matt Homonoff at the game tonight, panic stricken look on his face, praying along with us for a Menace goal. I liked our previous GM, but I’m kinda crazy about this new guy.
4. The supporters: When my MIL offered to watch my sick kiddo, and I had to choose to go or no go, it wasn’t just the team I was excited to see. I wanted to go hang out with Minnesota United’s Dark Clouds Supporters Group. A few I’d met through crossover with Minnesota 1st Volunteers, the local USMNT supporters group, and others I met when we hosted the Open Cup last year and they road tripped to see us. It’s nice that outside of “those 90 minutes,” we’re all friends.
2012 Open Cup game brought Minnesota’s Dark Clouds to Des Moines
That’s it. I’m completely excited about going to KC next week. Totally exhausted, but home safe. On to round 3!
Soccer....Family Style 