The drawback of a press pass? The press box.
Sitting high above the field, it’s Sterile and professional. And very quiet. Strictly no cheering allowed. If a Sounders game is about one thing, it’s cheering.
I stay the first half, gnawing on my knuckles at the various chances and missed opportunities. In the 16th minute, Dallas’ Atiba Harris nails an impressive rocket—25 meters out into the far side of the net and victoriously trots past the silenced home crowd, taunting with a hand cupped around his ear. I can only whisper my curses. Enough of this.
I sneak into the crowd for the second half. I find myself standing in the wheelchair section. A guy next to me doesn’t mind, and we commiserate over missed shots. And when Freddie, Fredy, and Nate connect in the 61st minute for Seattle’s first home goal since July 11th—15 weeks, 105 days, 466 game minutes ago—we roar like hungry lions.
We share high fives.
Minutes later, Jaqua crosses to Freddie, who fakes it through to Zakuani on the far side, who’s wide open and as impressed (and surprised) as the rest of us with Ljungberg’s move. He chips the ball 20 feet high. Miss. The guy next to me curses. “It’s just like when he missed against Houston!” How sharp are our memories when it comes to meaningless moments in sports.
Or awesome ones.
Freddie Ljungberg (Photo by Jack Hunter)
Freddie attacks up the far side and slips the ball to Brad Evans, who taps it over the keep’s head. The stadium erupts. Sounders 2-1.
Last month, I condemned Evans for his zero presence against New England, saying “We played with 10 men.” To my dismay, he’s started since then.
I guess the playing time has helped. Tonight he’s on fire. Several times I find myself asking, “Who’s the white guy with a full head of dark hair making a play? LeToux’s on the bench and Jaqua’s a buzz-cut blond tonight.” Evans had several notable moments before his goal, which was Britishly brilliant. I debate whether to declare “he’s back” or to remain skeptical.
In the final play, Ljungberg is the sole forward. The ball is cleared to him 35-plus from the goal. FCD keeper Dario Sala is foolishly outside his PK box. Sensing an opportunity, Ljubee chips it high. Sala races back to his line, looking over his shoulder at the ball. It’s a foot too high, a miss, but the shot causes Sala to run into his own goal and get tangled in the net. The crowd laughs. It’s a fitting end.
The whistle blows, the stadium remains at capacity. An ad hoc stage is rushed to the midfield. I find myself pressed against the rails leaning over the pitch surrounded by a U-15 select girls soccer team. The Sounders are rounding the pitch thanking fans. Ljungberg is on his way over, and I’m surrounded by teenage girls. This can not be a good thing. I fear for my ears.
Coach Sigi Shcmid and the suits are walking to the stage followed by a large entourage of cameras, uniforms, and plain clothes press folks. Ah yes, the press pass.The best thing about a press pass? Getting to wander around the field in the middle of a celebration.
The players take off their shirts and give them to a giddy group of fans who have been brought up on stage. Schmid gets a very nice silver plate. He just broke the record for most wins ever by a MLS coach. The old record was held by current US Nats coach Bob Bradley, who I think is doing a horrible job. I wonder if Sigi’s next move will be to the Nats. Nah, I hope he stays here.
Later, during the locker room press conference, Schmid is in tears. The winning-est coach title means a lot to him. “But what I really want is to be the coach with the greatest playoff record.”
(The three-seed Sounders will face two-seed Houston this Thursday in the first round of the playoffs. It’s a two-game series. It’s one long game really—whichever team scores the most goals over the course of the two matches advances. We beat Houston 2-1 at Qwest back in July, and we tied them 1-1 at Houston in August. We also beat them in a non-season match up—a U.S. Open Cup semifinal game in Tukwila in July. )
Schmid praises the fans. “When we started,” he says, “we thought yeah, there should be a crowd. We should have a decent response. We can start developing a fan base. It shouldn’t be that bad. But to see what’s happened, with the turn out and the support, it’s far beyond anyone’s wildest dreams. If this is a dream, don’t wake me up, I want to stay sleeping.”
Schmid is asked to reflect on the highs on the lows of the season. “The low point definitely was San Jose (we lost 4-0). As for the highs….”
He rattles off a long list. The reporter summarizes: “One low and eight highs. That says something in itself, doesn’t it?”
It’s a different atmosphere from other games—we won, after all—but less conducive for interviews. A stereo in the locker room is blasting a sticky euro techno pop. The half dozen reporters stand together in the middle looking for someone to mob.
Captain Keller is eating a bowl of granola intensely. Oswaldo Alonso limps past with a pained face, a pack of ice cellophaned to his inner left thigh.
Jaqua emerges from the shower, walks through the pack to his locker, and puts on underwear and a towel. A very large cleat gash cuts bright red across his left ribs. The pack circles him. “Um, can you talk to someone else first?” he says, motioning to his state of undress.
Jeez, Nate, at least we waited until you put on a towel.
The pack looks around collectively. Keller is furiously devouring his granola. I know that look from my dog, it says “bother me now and I will bite your hand off with no remorse.”
The pack turns back to Jaqua. “Ok”, he says, and fields generic questions about the playoffs.
These are not the questions I want to ask. I want to circumvent the MLS regulations that prohibit discussing players’ contracts and ask Hurtado if he “likes” Seattle. I consider him the third most important player on the team (who blocked Dallas’ late-game equalizer, as far as I could tell, with his crotch) yet is paid a penance. I want to ask if he’d like to stay and what-by-God we have to do to keep him here.
But these aren’t discussions for a post-game, playoffs-here-we come locker room.
