Losing the Game

I've never been much of a sports fan.  I grew up in small towns where high school football was a big deal, and went to a state university in what was then the Big Eight Conference where football was a really big deal.  I went to four games during college -- two on Dad's Weekend, with my father, and two other times when someone gave me a ticket.  That may very well have been the last time I went to a football game.

During medical school, we used to go to baseball games.  I thought for a while I might become a sserious baseball fan, but I didn't.  But it was fun to sit in the bleachers with friends on a Sunday afternoon.  We could get to Fenway Park on the Green Line or even walk.  Later I lived in Durham, very close to where the Durham Bulls played, and I went to games sometimes.  In Atlanta, the hassle factor to get to Braves' games seems significant, and I've only been to Turner Field a few times.  In spite of that, I'm still really angry with them for abandoning the city for Cobb County.

When the kids were little, they all played soccer.  Then, in 2010 the World Cup was in South Africa and somehow we were paying attention.  We watched games, we cheered for the U.S. team, and I mailed updates to Iain during the week he was at Boy Scout camp.  I was in Johannesburg for a meeting right after the World Cup and brought back T-shirts and a vuvuzela.

I was in Geneva the night the first game of the 2014 World Cup was played.  I had gone out for a walk, and on my way back to the hotel, I heard a sound.  It was sort of a roar, and was coming from everywhere.  Every bar, every restaurant with a television must have had a crowd that night, and when anything happened, there was a collective shout that I heard from all directions.  The next morning I had to leave early for the airport.  At the bus stop, I saw people standing on the sidewalk clustered outside a bar that was closed.  I assume they were watching a game on a television that had been left on, facing the window.

Later in June I was in Japan and watched part of the U.S.-Ghana game in my hotel room.  I had to turn the sound off because I found the announcers (who of course were speaking Japanese) distracting.

We watched a lot of soccer this summer.  We cheered for the U.S. team and marveled at Tim Howard's performance in the game against Belgium; even though we lost the game, there was so much pride in how well the team -- our team -- had done.  We laughed at the brief-lived Wikipedia entry, that Tim Howard was the Secretary of Defense, and were reminded that Ann Coulter is a troll.  After the U.S. was eliminated, we cheered for other teams.  

I was with a colleague in a restaurant during the World Cup and a game was on.  The place was full of people who should have been at work, probably, but who were taking an extended lunch break.  We were trying not to watch the game but it was hard not to.  We talked about how soccer is a heart-breaking game.  A game can be lost in a split second, and that's it. 

Atlanta has a soccer team now, the Atlanta Silverbacks.  We've been talking for years about going to a game, but we weren't quite sure where they played or how to get tickets.  But in September Iain and I decided to go to a Silverbacks game.  We got tickets on line and found our way there, to Silverbacks Park, near I-85 and -285.  It was so much fun, even though the Silverbacks lost.  There are supporter groups at the games; we were sitting behind Terminus Legion and they were on their feet, cheering the Silverbacks and shouting insults at the visitng Ottawa Fury.

There was a mascot, a guy (or maybe a girl) in a gorilla suit.

And there was a game that Atlanta lost, 0-3.  The Fury ended up with six yellow cards.  Even though our team lost, it was so much fun.  We were hooked.  We bought our Silverbacks scarves that night.

We saw them play Minnesota United on the big screen at a pub in East Atlanta.  The watch party was hosted by another supporter group, the Atlanta Ultras.  We lost that game too, but it was fun.

The following week we saw them play the Fort Lauderdale Strikers at Silverbacks Park.  We saw -- for the first time -- the Silverbacks score a goal.  (By this time, the coach had been fired and there was a new coach.)  We got to see Terminus Legion fire up the fire extinguishers.

That game ended in a tie, and at that point, a tie felt like a win, and there was another tie the following week against the Tampa Bay Rowdies.  

It was after that game that this ominous post appeared on the Silverbacks' Facebook page.

I don't understand what the issue is but I am worried.  We love going to the games and although it would be nice if the Silverbacks won, it's fun even if they don't.  We missed the game against the Carolina RailHawks, but the last game of the season is this afternoon and I'll be there at the Elder Tree to see the team play Edmonton.  

How serious is this?  Serious enough that Terminus Legion and the Atlanta Ultras have called a truce for the afternoon; both supporter groups will be there for what could be the last Silverbacks game, ever.  I know in a couple of years Atlanta is supposed to have an MLS team, but that's not going to be a substitute for the Silverbacks.

I knew soccer was a heartbreaking game, but I never expected this kind of heartbreak.