The Forgotten Blog Returns

It was a few days ago GoF reminded me that we (The Southsiders) had a blog we hadn’t used for a while.

So here it is, the return of We’re Blue, We’re White

Anyone is welcome to contact me, if they’d like to Blog

I will resurrect this with Slamo’s excellent forum post written the day after the Seattle trip on June 11th 2011

I was standing at the front of the supporter section in Seattle on June 11th, 2011 in the 84th minute when time froze.

A minute earlier Osvaldo Alonso had beaten Joe Cannon with a well placed strike into the lower left hand corner of the net after a bad turnover. In the span of three minutes a well earned 0-1 Whitecap lead had become a 2-1 deficit. I stood partially resigned to defeat, but determined to surpass the hearty effort of the lads on the pitch…

”We shall not, we shall not be moved. We shall not; we shall not be moved…”

In front of me jubilant Sounder fans that stood quietly stunned for most of the match suddenly alive with jubilation no longer watching the match but instead turned to face us and taunt us…

“You only sing when you’re winning…”

Waiving fingers, shaking fist yelling inaudibly with angry mouths. Some throwing beer, it’s okay, it was American beer…hardly beer at all. A streamer comes hurling back towards us – one of our own from earlier. A triumphant moment when streamers flew after we sang the Canadian anthem so loud the anthem singer on the pitch got frazzled and lost the tune and the lyrics. “We’ll show you” the streamer seemed to say as it landed next to me.

“Que Sera, Sera; whatever will be, will be…”

Undeterred I show my support by moving from my standing position in front of my seat to standing on my seat. Flag raised high I muster as many decibels as I have left in my scratched raw throat fighting the pain of a pounding headache from signing full volume for well over two hours – a full 90 minutes with a big bass drum right beside me…

“…it’s not bloody Wembley…”

The ball finds its way deep into Sounder territory kitty corner from where we the supporters stand; still singing, still waving flags, still believing as much as our temporarily broken hearts will allow. Something is happening here…

“Que Sera, Sera”

The song ends and sensing something is about to happen, just a feeling, I reach out and grab Massimo’s shoulders, “watch” I say, but not sure why. The drummer stops and turns towards the pitch and the ball played forward to the same Alonso that had broken our hearts only a moment ago goes astray. Now the sense is large and pounding like my head. I squeeze Massimo’s shoulder and feel fellow supporters leaning forward on me sensing the same thing. Magic is about to happen.

Alonso reaches out with more hope than conviction knowing full well he has no chance of playing this ball. Eric Hassli – Rico, Eric the Red, The Beast, OUR DP, is charging the ball, I shake Massimo’s shoulder, “watch” I yell.

The left foot as gentle as the breathe of a new born baby on the neck of a new Mother lifts the ball into the air creating some space from a defender who is already out of the play leaning in the direction of the errant pass from an easily panicked teammate. The sounds stop in the stadium, but something is happening for sure…the tension compresses the hyper aware supporters while so many Sounders fans continue to taunt and hurl abuse in our direction oblivious to their own pending heartbreak.  Rico continues his run matching his own pace to the pace of the flight of the ball like a Beast about to take down some dinner. The beauty of the moment freezes everyone in green and suddenly there are 10 more spectators to the moment who are no longer players in the act.

Sense would say gather control as the Beast runs on an angle not conducive to a good goal scoring position, but he is “Eric the Red”, a warrior. The ball finds gravity, but seemingly not full gravity as it floats nicely to the ground at a spot pre-determined by the magic in the air.

Then the POWER of the Beast strikes, figuratively, but more so literally. What it must be like to have such control of a moment, to turn the hips at a 75 degree angle while elevating the body ever so slightly off the ground to allow for the freedom of movement – enough so as to allow for magic. The right foot comes around the body while the abdominal muscles engage to allow for the twisting of the hips with enough power to send the still floating ball in an opposite direction and place a dagger into the hearts of 36,000 people.

The loudest sound in the stadium at this moment is the sound of Rico’s foot striking the ball – “BOOM”. The ball loses its moment of peace and is compressed into an egg shape as the Beast strikes it with full might but still deft touch. The ball starts its magic journey and that is when it happens – time stands still.  The ball freezes in mid air already destined for the far corner of the net – maybe with just a kiss to the post to leave a lasting lipstick memory for the fans who thought this was their day. I take this rare opportunity of time stoppage to soak it all in.

Ah, the Seattle fans; look at them yelling at us – they have no idea; spittle spewing out of their mouths, angry insults that we cannot hear anyway, celebrating victory just a few minutes too soon. Look at Keller; his eyes bulging out of his head, his feet coming out from under him – he already knows. Ah Vagenas, don’t worry Peter, there will be no rebound, no loose ball to be put away. Shea, he knows too; he’s got a good angle, he can’t believe what he is seeing but he knows. Eric, why are you still floating? You can land now the magic spell has already been cast – enjoy mon ami.

And time continues: the ball finds its place and the net moves signalling us that – yes, it’s true; it really was magic. The singing and dancing begins for the 500+ Whitecaps supporters who found themselves in the presence of greatness.

This is the goal – a goal that has been seen by millions around the world.

Thank you Eric, enjoy Mon Ami.