Pro for an Afternoon, Part I

By: Sean | July 30th, 2009

First off, thanks to everyone who offered supportive comments and emails over the last month. It’s been a rough go, but your condolences and good thoughts have been warmly received and sincerely appreciated. I’m blessed to have such a fantastic bunch of readers.

Secondly, my long promised post on playing soccer with the Portland Timbers follows. I don’t want to make anyone feel uncomfortable, so if reading about the Rose City’s local football club isn’t your thing, may I direct your attention to this fine entry on Seattle’s Pike Place Market? Did you know it first opened on August 17, 1907? You do now!

When I first saw the announcement on the club’s website, I thought it was cute. About seven seconds later I found myself curious, but still trying to maintain my detached Pacific Northwest cool. Ten seconds after that, I decided it was the coolest thing I had ever seen:

“PORTLAND TIMBERS FATHER’S DAY FANTASY CAMP”

The Timbers were offering local adult supporters the chance to kick around at PGE Park on Father’s Day. Similar to other fantasy sports camps, the afternoon offered a chance for a personalized jersey, warm-ups and drills with a member of the coaching staff, lunch and of course, the chance to meet and scrimmage with some members of the team. Despite almost giddy fan-boy interest, I tried to play it casual when I mentioned it to my wife, not wanting to disrupt any potential Father’s Day plans that might be in the making. She furrowed her brow: “So tell me why exactly you haven’t signed up yet? You know you’ll regret it if you don’t. You should totally do it.”

And that, my fellow Weekend Warriors, is why my wife is so friggin’ awesome!

Sunday, June 21st dawned bright and sunny and after arriving at PGE Park promptly at check-in time, I soon met some other campers and we excitedly chatted about the day ahead, the recent 5-1 win over Minnesota, and what things we might have been doing for Father’s Day had we not opted to be here. Everyone shared the same general enthusiasm and our group grew in size to about ten as we were led through a side gate and down into the Park. PGE Park currently holds over 16,000 and you can get down level with the pitch on match days to sit in the Widmer Beer Garden, but walking across the turf itself towards the registration table set up near the player’s tunnel, the stadium seemed to loom larger than I remembered. A few others were stretching on the sidelines–older gentlemen and guys in their early twenties, even a few I recognized from my adult men’s league matches over the years–as I signed in, starting to feel a little anxious. The woman pointed me toward the player’s tunnel: “Go ahead to the visitor’s locker room and change. You’ll find your jersey hanging up by your locker and a training kit on the chair in front of it. Put on the black trainers for the warm-up session and come back out here. We’ll get started in a little bit.”

My own locker? My own black training uniform? There was no mention of this on the website. Sweet!

I ambled down the player’s tunnel toward the visitor’s locker room, trying to peek around every slightly ajar door I passed. I was the kid who had snuck into a cinema and now was going to find the movie he wanted to see. Be cool, Seanny. Just go changed and kick the ball around. And don’t trip on your slips. Upon entering the locker room, my eyes instantly found my own jersey. Like hearing your name in a crowded room, it practically called out to me as I entered the room. It was a beautiful familiar hunter green and my last name arched gracefully between the sleeves. Oh sure, I could buy the exact same one and have it personalized any day of the week, but this jersey was different. I was going to sweat in this jersey! In PGE Park! A chair set in front of my locker was draped with my warm-up outfit and a laminated placard officially declared that this was my locker. I played it cool for another two seconds. “Oh, hell, I gotta take a picture of this!” I declared, much to the amused chuckles of my locker neighbor…who also agreed that having your own locker and jersey were picture-worthy and did the same.

Gearing up was the exact same process I do every Sunday: Right shin guard, left shin guard, right sock, left sock, right boot, left boot. Tape the right ankle to keep the guard from slipping. Tape the left ankle to keep the guard from slipping. But then I got to add a new step: Put on black training jersey. We didn’t get training jerseys back in high school. It may sound ridiculous, but this was a pleasant surprise. I can’t explain why. Knowing I had a special shirt just for warm-up struck me as cool, so grinning unabashedly, I went back onto the pitch.

Several other guys were stretching and warming up now, similarly clad in black. Fantasy campers come in all shapes and sizes but not unlike other times, when a group of footballers get together, I found myself quietly assessing the competition. (Even though the score or anything else didn’t really matter in the long run.) That guy looks fast. I think that big guy by the goal plays in my league. A few guys introduced themselves, a few others joked about not injuring themselves. I grabbed a ball and dribbled aimlessly around the pitch, eventually finding myself in front of an empty goal. I have always wanted to score a penalty at the Park, I thought. I set the ball on the charity spot, took two steps back, and suddenly realized if I missed on an empty goal I would be a total dork, so I cautiously strode forward and kicked the lamest, tamest shot straight down the middle. The net rippled meekly. GOOOOAAALLLL!!!

The group was called back to midfield. Amos Magee, Timbers assistant coach, introduced himself and told us he would be running us through a complete set of warm-up drills before we scrimmaged. We broke up into three groups and did various ladders, sprints, and lateral movements. Having just returned from vacation the night before–ergo, I had not worked out at all in over a week–I was winded. Fortunately, beads of sweat were showing on the foreheads of other campers, so I was in good company. After a water break, we grouped up into a circle and did various iterations of passing, passing and moving, trapping and heading, and other skills. Most of the exercises involved remembering and calling out somebody’s name prior to a pass, a skill I totally suck at, so I inadvertently began passing to the same four guys I could identify. The balls occasionally bounced wildly free of the group but spirits remained high as the panting got progressively faster. Another water break and onto small-sided possession games. The two sides try to string multiple passes together in a confined area. These were the same games we practiced as kids, but with the excited calls for a pass echoing throughout the empty stadium, it seemed bigger. Better. Even after giving away a pass cheaply, I still had to grin.

Another water break and shooting drills with one of the groups shooting and the other shagging balls. The one keeper camper we had donned his gloves and went between the posts. One line passes, one line sets up the shot at the top of the box, shooter strikes it inside the eighteen. When it was our turn to shoot, I got a sweet layoff and squared my knee over the ball. For a Seanny shot it had some venom but the keeper made a fantastic sprawling save and punched it away. My side cheered despite the block. I worked my way through the rotation and got another great dish from the passer. I cracked it with the top of my foot and beat the keeper to the left post: Nuthin’ but net. High-fives and cheers all around, including the ball chasers. “Great shot, Sean,” Amos said, and my grin officially went ear to ear.

As we break for our final water break prior to the scrimmage, a PGE employee asks if anyone wants to be interviewed for the website. I politely wait for two seconds before shooting my hand up. The cameraman nods and invites me to another section of the pitch to talk about Father’s Day Fantasy Camp. But here’s the thing…nowhere in recreational soccer are you taught how to do press! Do I look at the camera? Do I look at the interviewer? What if he asks me who my favorite player is and I freeze up? The camera went on and my brain went off. All I remember is seeing a camera lens and hearing a voice. Then my nose got itchy but I knew I couldn’t scratch it on camera. Are you having a good time so far? “Oh, yeah, uh, it’s awesome.” Then he asked me something like, Are you looking forward to playing with the Timbers later on? “Oh, yeah. Totally. It’s gonna be…awesome.” Or something inane like that. A final question had to do with what was I going to do if I scored a goal during the scrimmage and for a second, I did have a cogent answer. Actually, I have a fully rehearsed goal celebration I call “The Penitent Episcopalian” which I hope to someday do that involves sliding into the goal on my knees triumphantly while I cross myself, but I can’t do it on turf because of the resulting staph infection you can get from sliding on turf. When I realized I couldn’t do that at the Park, I went blank and stammered something about “We’ll have to see, um, because that would be awesome to, you know, score.”

It was apparently the worst interview ever because it never got posted.

I went back into the locker room. The campers were already there and excited speculation percolated about which players would show up to play. Magee entered and introduced head coach Gavin Wilkinson, who politely introduced himself to every single camper and shook their hand. He gave a brief talk about having fun on the pitch, “so just go and kick the piss out one another.” The group laughed. Gavin turned and mentioned he had four players kitted up and ready to join us. I noticed many of the campers sat up by their lockers a little straighter. The door swung open and…

…tune in next week for the exciting conclusion of “Pro for an Afternoon”! Which players will show up? Will Sean get a chance to do “The Penitent Episcopalian” goal celebration? Will he figure out how to not sound brain-dead on camera? Stay tuned, Weekend Warriors!