Filed under: International Soccer, Supporter Culture, US Soccer | Tags: Klinsman, US Soccer, USMNT
I have a rule about not spending money traveling to friendlies during World Cup Qualifying. You have to prioritize somewhere along the line, and I would much rather go to qualifiers, than burn the budget on fun but meaningless games.
But when US Soccer announced that the Centennial Match would be US vs Germany at RFK Stadium in Washington DC, I knew I had to go. I had promised myself that whenever the US next played Germany after Jürgen Klinsmann was hired, I would go, even if the match was played in Germany, and I justified that this expense in the middle of qualifying was probably not as bad as flying to Germany for this game, so I called my DC friends and started searching for a place to stay. That the Centennial coincided with my 20th anniversary as a US Soccer supporter was too good to be true.
My first cap ever was USMNT vs Germany in the US Cup, on June 13, 1993, which I attended as a fan of German soccer, a habit I’d picked up living in Germany for Summer 1989. The ‘93 game was a pivotal moment in my career as an American soccer fan. My hero, Klinsmann scored in the 14th minute, the German machine performing as planned. But then, here was Tom Dooley, putting one in about 10 minutes later for the Americans. The AMERICANS? “They” scored on Germany? Impossible. Soon enough, my Germans had run it up to 4-1, and we were back on plan. But then there were those Americans again…Ernie Stewart scoring in the 72nd minute, and Dooley getting the brace several minutes later. What the hell was going on? I hadn’t even realized that Americans knew how to play legitimate soccer, let alone hold Germany to “just” a 4-3 loss. I was blown away. I walked out, took my Germany hat off, bought a shirt commemorating the game, and that day, became a supporter for US Soccer.
Flash forward 20 years, and I made it to DC. My one goal for coming to DC was to finally meet Klinsmann. My Facebook wall has been littered with friends who met him at the airport, or at practices I didn’t get to town soon enough to attend, or the Centennial Celebration in New York City, and frankly, I was more than a little jealous. After all, I’d been a fan for DECADES, and here were people who had lukewarm trust in Klinsy with photos with him plastered all over Facebook, just mocking me. I was one more Facebook photo away from a full on toddler-force tantrum….something had to be done.
First stop was the Nike Store event in Georgetown, a mob scene of kids who were too big to shove out of the way unnoticed. I tried not to think about the multiplier of the average age to my age, and I got positioned near the front…on the side that ended up the far side of Klinsmann and Tim Howard (my son’s current obsession) and near side to Clint Dempsey and Michael Bradley. I know, you’re thinking “there’s really not a losing position there.” And you’re right. Every single person on stage was amazing (thanks Nike/US Soccer), but given my goals as a mama and fan girl, I should have been on the opposite side. Taylor Twellman emceed a Q&A, that I half heard over the blood rushing past my eardrums, and then the autograph frenzy began. Nothing organized, with guys signing civilized behind a table, but a mosh pit of youth soccer players and I jockeying for position. I ended up getting Bradley’s and Howard’s autograph for both my kids (go Mom!) but I’m pretty sure Klinsmann vaporized soon after the autographs started. I asked one of my US Soccer contacts if Klinsmann was still in the building, and after checking, he said no, but if I found him at the Public Practice, he would try to help me get my Klinsmann photo.
The next day, I went down to RFK to watch the German practice at 11 AM. I didn’t get super involved, since I can only recognize a few of their players, but had a nice morning chatting with the German ex-pats who were there. I managed to score Louis Podolski’s autograph, but the highlight came as the practice was breaking up, and I noticed Alexi Lalas, walking around with a hard-to-miss purple umbrella to guard against the noon-time sun. I was wearing my 20 year old t-shirt from US vs Germany, having a moment by myself, thinking about my life following US Soccer for the past 20 years, there’s Lalas, one of the players that played for the US in the 1993 game. I called hello to him, and he said hi back, and then said “That’s a shirt from way back.” Thrilled that he’d recognized it (it does show the ’93 USMNT kit), I said, “Yeah, I had to dig way back in the closet for it, this was my first cap.”
Then, Lalas blew my mind. He said, “Tom Dooley had a heck of a game that day, right?”
Are you kidding me? How many games has he played for the US (it’s 96, I looked it up) and how many has he announced, let alone watched, and he had the details from a particular game from 20 years ago? The man knows his soccer, and he signed the US side of my shirt. Take that, Lalas haters.
The day continued to get more and more awesome. Between practices, we were hanging out at the Supporters Club sign in, which was next to the press area. While we waited for gates to open, we were greeted by former Nats goalkeeper Kasey Keller, and ESPN broadcaster Ian Darke. Keller was quiet, but stopped for photos and autographs, and Mr. Darke stayed and chatted with us for a while, talking about just hanging out like a regular guy chatting up soccer. He’s very thoughtful and insightful, and a pleasure to talk soccer with, so I was almost sad when they said it was time to head into the stadium.
We had a relaxed hour, joking with a few of my soccer buddies about various travel (mis)adventure, and about the players putting on a practice show for us. Once the field work was over, the players were extraordinary, taking lots of time to sign autographs and pose for photos. I met more players than I can fathom, but no Klinsmann. After the session, security started to clear us out, and I began to panic. I had had such a perfect day, only to fail in my ultimate mission? Intolerable. Desperately, I searched the crowd for my US Soccer contact, and shouted to him across the security area. He mouthed “Did you meet him?” I shook my head no. He held up one finger to wait, and took off. I drug my feet as much as possible, and when we were cleared to the stadium seats and asked to leave, I said “I was told to wait here…” and was just about to justify my staying in a last ditch attempt to avoid getting bodily thrown from the stadium, when my contact popped up from the player tunnel and asked security if he could take me with him. They agreed, and I went through, vindicated and beyond excited. I half ran, chasing my contact into the locker room level of RFK. We turned into a hallway, where I recognized several members of the soccer media on one side of a fence. I was told to stand on the other side, just past them. I stood and waited, watching a guy from MLS.com wrapping up an interview. Soon, more players began to funnel down the hallway, some stopping to answer questions, a few pausing to give me a nod. I asked Beasley for a photo, since he is my husband’s favorite, but otherwise, I tried to be cool and just wait. When Dempsey walked by, I must have had a particularly obvious “she’s not press” look on my face, in awe that he was right there in front of me, all by myself. He got a look of recognition on his face, and then, silently walked up, shook my hand, and kept walking, as I stood dumbfounded, managing to squeak out “Wow, thanks.”
By the time I regained my senses, Klinsmann was right in from of me, startling me back to reality. I called out in German, asking “Can I have your…” Dammit. What’s the word for autograph? I came up with “writing” but he was already walking over, thank goodness, able to translate through the IQ lowering effects of fangirl overload. I told him how I’d been a German soccer fan, and came to see him play 20 years ago, how I remembered the goal, and that when the US came back to almost equalize, I became a US Soccer fan, culminating with “I’m a US Soccer fan because of you, and I just wanted to say thanks, and can I get a photo with you?” And that’s how I ended up with my coveted Klinsmann photo, complete with him smiling almost as wide as I am.
My sincerest thanks to my friends at US Soccer who made this photo possible. Following this team has been some of my greatest adventures of the last 20 years.
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.
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!
Filed under: International Soccer, Supporter Culture | Tags: Azteca, US Soccer, USMNT
Photo credit: Tony Hernandez Photography (https://www.facebook.com/TonyHernandezPhotography)
Here’s the thing: going to Azteca is scary. Mostly because of all the horror stories that people tell you about going to Azteca. “You’re going to get bags of piss thrown on you!” “They throw things at you!” “You’re going to get spit thrown at you!” And on and on and on. I know…I went, Easter Sunday of 2005, and people told me I was insane, that I was going to orphan my baby girl, blah blah blah.
I’m not saying it wasn’t terrifying, walking through rows of riot police, that we didn’t get stuff thrown at us, because my sunglasses were broken when someone threw a coin from the upper deck (that’s right…I went to Azteca back when they sat us in the lower deck! Terminal velocity, baby.)
So I’m really annoyed with this guy, who told Yahoo Sports that he was hit by a flying bottle thrown by a Mexican fan. Because one of my soccer travel buddies, Jimmie Cates, of AO Detroit, saw this guy slip and fall on a seat and bash his head in the fall. So he could have said, “Mexicans threw a bunch of beer, and it made the seat wet, and I slipped and fell.” But that’s not nearly as sexy as being the face of “the abuse American fans suffer (dramatic sigh!) at Azteca,” now is it? By misrepresenting the terrors of Mexico City, you keep others from traveling to support our Yanks, and that pisses me off. A whole big bunch.
So I’m calling you out, bashed in head dude. Your 15 minutes of fame are over. It’s bad enough Mexico can’t win at home, they shouldn’t be lied about, especially when the truth of Azteca is plenty intimidating to most soccer fans. Come clean, and maybe next time, don’t drink so much at altitude.
Filed under: International Soccer, Supporter Culture, US Soccer | Tags: Azteca, US Soccer, USMNT
Got the kids to bed, and trying to stay sane waiting for this game. Thoughts:
All the pressure’s on Mexico. No wins yet, they need a break.
Yes, we’ve got some injury issues, but I look at that as second string’s got something to prove.
Thinking about the mental games coming into this match, I’ll take our position. We won in our last meeting there. Our qualifying is going better. The weather is in our favor (again).
And while I generally love everything Alexi Lalas says, you wouldn’t be talking about him if he said the US would win 2-0. Man’s got a job to do, but it won’t stop us from bringing home three points!
Let’s go, boys! Take their COLORS!!
Filed under: Family Fun, International Soccer, Supporter Culture, US Soccer | Tags: Tifo, US Flag, US Soccer, USMNT
It left the stadium soaked and frozen, crusted with ice, but today, the Midwest Mama stadium flag was single-handedly rolled by Doug and is on it’s way home to AO Des Moines. Even I am surprised it fit back in the bag after being so soaked!
When we looked at the qualifying schedule, I was excited that at least one game was while the kids were on break from school, since we always have more fun at games as a family. We have friends in Denver, and I figured by late March, maybe the weather would be warming up (ha!). We decided to spend the week in Denver, making art and spending time with friends. It was gorgeous all week, sunny and warm, and we had so much fun playing outside, going for walks, and hanging out.
We started out the day at The British Bulldog, AO Denver’s bar, where the kids fueled up on Sheppard’s Pie and burgers. Once they were fed, they were willing to join in a round of leading “Everywhere We Go” chant standing on their bar stools. My daughter gave me a “can I curse?” look, and I smiled and nodded, knowing it would be a huge hit. We got to the line “We are the US, the might f*$%ing US” and when the kids dropped the F bomb, the bar went absolutely nuts, and the rest of the chant was lost to applause and high fives for our kids. It was a proud moment for me as a supporter mama. If you have video of that chant, PLEASE message me!
My son, Captain America
We headed to the tailgate and to set up the tifo and Midwest Mama flag. The kids changed in Captain America and Betsy Ross costumes, and started to take turns charming people at the tailgate and warming up in the car. The day started in the upper 40s and sunny, but by the tifo set up at 3:30, it was cloudy, windy, and quickly getting colder. But we had a great parking place, plenty of food and beer, and many friends we don’t often get to see. We were having a blast. Captain America was getting amped up for the game, and was directing people to “take the stadium!”
I must give props to my local group, American Outlaws Des Moines. When I agreed to be the AO contact for Iowa back in 2007, I imagined that the AO chapter would be the 4 people in my house, and maybe one or two more. I never dreamed that we would become an official chapter, with road trips to games where there would be more people from AO DSM than some of the largest supporter chapters in the US. I’m so proud of what this “little” group has become.
The game itself was bananas. I can’t even tell you what happened on the field. We scored at the far end,but I only know that because I watched the net for when it rippled as the ball struck it. The snow flakes were huge, and the stands were filled with slush. It was some of the craziest weather I’ve seen, but seriously Costa Rica, I have a kindergartner and a 4th grader, and they whined less about this game than you are. It’s called a home field advantage, welcome to CONCACAF!
In case you ever wonder how that huge flag gets in and out of the stadium, it’s by us at AO Des Moines. My family (my husband in this case) carries that flag all over the US to games. We get to the stadium four hours early to set it up, and we stay late to fold it up (often with the help of locals, thanks SO MUCH to the guys that helped in the snow and slush last night!) It was even heavier last night than it was in Tampa, because there was only so much snow we could shake off. It’s currently drying in the basement, not really sure how we’ll get it re-folded for the drive home, assuming we eventually get to leave the Denver snow globe!
I’ll post more photos later, I’m going to go spend some more time making art with our host, local artist, Tanya Keith (find her work here), Wish us luck driving home. This one last photo is thanks to Daniel Petty of The Denver Post. My husband and I kiss like this at the final whistle of every game, but no one has ever caught us before. It’s like we renew our vows of our 18 year marriage at every US Soccer game, but I’ve never had a “wedding photographer” catch us! Much appreciated, Mr. Petty!
Disclaimer: I’m Jewish. I may live in Iowa, and know many Catholics, but at the end of the day, there’s a whole bunch I don’t understand about the significance of today’s events at the Vatican. None of this is intended to disrespect the seriousness of this day for my Catholic friends.
Because really, yesterday started out as a running joke. There’s a seagull on the Vatican roof! It has a Twitter account! Sigh…the whole thing of waiting for smoke signals. It’s tough for me to understand the whole religious significance of an event that’s pretty out there in practice. Not that Jews don’t have our own strange traditions, but usually there’s delicious food involved, which I think makes it more accessible. I digress….
So the new Pope is announced, and we, my two kids and I, were running errands and catching snippets of the story via NPR. I caught that the Pope was from Argentina, which I thought was cool because there’s some really great Rabbis and Cantors from there, so I’m absentmindedly thinking that the new Pope has something going for him culturally speaking. My daughter was saying “I thought a Pope was where you go to drink.” No honey, that’s a “pub.” It was about as satisfying as Pope announcements can be for a nice Jewish girl.
Then the soccer jokes started, mostly from my friend @WeberKing, another Jewish USMNT fan: “Move over Maradona, there’s a new guy claiming to be the “Hand of G-d.”
“Sepp Blatter just announced that the new Pope is from Qatar. Sorry US and England”
Then another friend posted a comment wondering if the Pope was a fan of Boca Juniors, River Plate, or perhaps Newell’s Old Boys? All first division teams in Argentina, and kinda cracked me up, envisioning a serious Bishop going nuts over a soccer game. That made me pretty happy, and it wasn’t too hard to imagine, a guy growing up in Argentina being a soccer fan. I mean, giving up sex is one thing, but G-d wouldn’t ask anyone to give up football, right?
So I posted this joke to break up a serious Pope discussion on another friend’s page, and in response, he linked me to this gem: “New Pope Suffers for Argentine soccer club San Lorenzo.” No. Effing. Way. This is amazing. The Pope is a football fan. With a supporters card no less! I can’t really say that this is going to make me convert to Catholicism or anything, (Now if San Lorenzo starts crushing it, you’ll have my attention) but not knowing anything else about him, I’d rather have another supporter in any job. I know he’s got a pretty crappy record on gay rights, but personally, I don’t look to the Catholic Church for leadership on much, least of all gay rights equality. Just don’t take away my birth control options, and we’re cool for now, Pope Francis.
Soccer....Family Style 