One of these days I'm going to manage to see an incredible comeback in a soccer game where I don't already know the outcome. I managed to have last spring's Champions League final ruined for me, and today I took in the February 2004 FA Cup match between Tottenham and Manchester City. I was aware that one team came from behind to win 4-3 and was pretty sure that that team was City; when Spurs scored the first goal less than two minutes in, that confirmed it.
Even so, it was pretty amazing to see. Not only were City down 3-0 at halftime, but Joey Barton (the notorious hothead) was sent off just after the whistle. In a three-goal hole and with only ten men on the pitch? Do you suppose bookies would even have set odds that City would come back to win?
Yet somehow it happened, thanks largely to City's increased determination (where was that in the first half, you wonder) and Spurs' breakdown in defense. Arni Arason, basically filling in for David James, chose halftime to suddenly turn into Oliver Kahn, making a couple incredible saves (including one on a free kick where he deflected the ball into the crossbar on one side of the goal, then in just a couple seconds scrambled to the other side just in time to stop a rebound header from going over the line).
First came a Sylvain Distin header just three minutes into the half. Twelve minutes later, a deflection caught Kasey Keller going the wrong way for a Spurs own goal. Things were pretty quiet for another twenty minutes, until Shaun Wright-Phillips barely avoided being offsides and broke free on a run, chipping one over Keller and into the back of the net. That would have been amazing enough, but a Jonathan Macken header in extra time got by Keller and sealed the win.
Talk about a comeback! Three goals down, a man short, playing on the road at White Hart Lane - that gives Liverpool's CL win a real run for its money. If it falls short it's only because it wasn't a final of any kind.
It flashes me back to what was probably the most memorable high school game I ever taped. We (Columbia) were playing Montclair Kimberley Academy in the semifinals of the county tournament, on a neutral ground at West Essex. In the first half, everything went their way - they went up 2-0, we didn't look that good, I think they may have had a penalty for one of their goals. Things didn't look good at all. Then came the second half. The first goal came maybe ten minutes in - I don't remember who scored it now, probably either Dan Lovitz or one of the Bowen brothers. Things were quiet for another ten or fifteen minutes, and then suddenly Charles Alcine broke in, the goalie came out to meet him, Charles got by him and it was 2-2. Then just seconds later, Dan took it away from MKA just after their restart, sent it to a streaking Pat Glennon up the right side, and as the goalie dropped to cover where he thought it was going, Pat fired it right over his head and into the top of the net for the third goal. Wild celebration ensued, followed by 15 or 20 minutes of holding off MKA, which they did. 3-2, Columbia moves on to the finals (a 1-1 draw against Montclair that was not broken).
I mention all this both to start working Man City into the blog and as a way of proving how exciting soccer can be, though if you're reading this you probably don't need much persuasion. People who attack the low scores are, I think, missing the point entirely. When scoring is at a premium, every strike becomes that much more exciting, regardless of when it's scored. Think about it. When a basketball player scores to make it 2-0 in the first quarter, would the fans leap to their feet and cheer? Only if they don't know how the game is played. Though it's theoretically possible for a first-quarter field goal in football or a first-inning solo home run in baseball to stand up, how often do they actually, and would anyone expect it? By contrast, any goal you see in a soccer game could very easily be the last. Sometimes you don't see any at all, something you would only see in a football game if the two teams were really incompetent (such as one contest between Northwestern and Illinois in 1978; NU finished 0-10-1, U of I 1-8-2).
Soccer isn't about easy scoring. It's not about constant "rewards" for the fans. It's about delayed gratification. It's about following the rhythms and flow of a game that's constantly moving (in a way that, of the four major North American sports, only hockey really resembles): tracking the ball up and down the field, paying attention to setpieces like corners and free kicks, watching chaos unfold around the goal mouth. A curling free kick, a laser beam from 20 yards, a rising header, a diving save. I don't mean to bash the American sports; those who know me certainly know I love all of them as well. There is something about soccer, however, that puts it in a class by itself.
Put it this way. I love baseball, but if the Cubs aren't playing, I'm probably not watching, unless it's the playoffs. Same with football and the Bears, college football and Northwestern, basketball and the Bulls, hockey and the Devils. College basketball I frequently don't watch at all until the conference tournaments start. Yet give me a soccer game and some free time and I'm all over it. I don't make time for every single game that Fox Soccer Channel shows, but I have watched many Premiership games that haven't featured Man City; I've even watched games from France and Argentina, leagues that I'm not about to seriously follow. Why? I'm not sure I could truly explain it. Either you're into soccer or you aren't, really; I think there are people who could be converted, but it's nearly impossible for words to do justice to the game - if a picture is worth a thousand words, 90 minutes of soccer is equal to 162,000,000 words, and I just can't summon that many to tell someone why they should be watching. Ultimately, all I can say is this: there's a reason it's called "the beautiful game." It's not an accident.
Well, that got out of hand. If you made it this far, thanks for indulging me.
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