The encyclopedia says Stream of Consciousness is “a narrative mode that seeks to portray an individual’s point of view by giving the written equivalent of the character’s thought processes.” In other words, DJ watches games, and writes down whatever comes to mind. Sometimes prescient, sometimes odd, almost always entertaining.
I suppose it would be asking too much of Juan Toja to not be awesome when he plays FCD, just for old time’s sake. Yeah, it would be. Kind of like when Tessio asked Tom Hagen if he could get him off the hook at the end of The Godfather. “Can’t do it Sally.”
Jerry Bengston may very well be, it seems to me, a hack and a punk. It’s not in my nature to be judgmental and/or negative, but just from the briefest of observations, I see a fairly reasonable possibility of just such a condition. Not that it matters because, as we all know, a guy who has some skill and can score a goal now and then, will always have a home somewhere in this league, even if he’s a hack and a punk to the extreme. (coughcoughDEMAcoughcough).
I’m thankful for the late afternoon start, as I would have been conflicted to the point of catalysis trying to choose between FC Dallas and the Dr. Who season premiere.
“Get a DVR, pal”.
I have a DVR. What I do not have is the ability to easily delay gratification. So you see my dilemma.
“Yeah, I see your dilemma, you’re twelve years old”.
Shut up.
[Editor's note: this is a new feature. Italics and quotation marks in a new paragraph shall represent the voices in the author's head. This is a stream-of-consciousness, after all. It seemed impolite to leave them out]
It still seems strange to hear Jay Heaps referred to as “Coach”. Not that I think he’s unqualified, it’s not that at all. It’s more like when you see a kid you used to babysit driving around town with his own family. You know it’s a natural progression, but it still seems odd. For example, a kid who was in my class back when I was teaching fifth grade is now playing in the NBA. No matter how many times I see him on television, I still see the skinny goofy kid he was back then before I see the accomplished young professional he has become.
By the way – in case you’re new to MLS lore: back in the olden days Jay Heaps, before he was a coach, and even before he played for the Revs, played basketball at Duke. You could see the basketball player in him on the soccer field. He could seriously climb the ladder when contesting for a header. He’s not all that tall, but man did he have some ups. I hope he’s as successful at coaching as he’s been at everything else.
Not today, mind you, but in general.
I haven’t heard any reporters ask him how much he learned about coaching from Mike Krzyzewski, but I’d be interested to hear the answer. Surely someone has brought it up by now, don’t you think?
If only there was some kind of, oh, I don’t know, some kind of worldwide interconnected system of computers, with access to every database of information in existence, that one could access from one’s home, then we could find about these things right away, instead of having to wonder. Well, maybe in the future. I’m sure scientists are too busy working on flying cars to fool with such high-falutin’ nonsense.
“You need to get out more”.
I get out plenty. This week I went to the public library and Wal-mart. Twice.
“Oh yeah, you’re a madman”.
That’s right, buddy. You don’t wanna run with me. I’ll take you down with me.
Jackson and Ferreira both came very close to scoring in the first half. It could quite easily be 2-nil instead of nil-nil at halftime. FC Dallas look like the team in control. For the Revs, only Nguyen and Toja seem to have any ideas beyond the league-standard “Hey, let’s knock down the little guy every time he gets a touch” brand of defense.
Second half, and here’s all you need to know about the state of refereeing in this league: David Ferreira gets fouled more than anyone in the league. He takes a pounding every week and gets no protection from the league, but Mr. Gantar gives him a yellow card for a garden-variety handball. I have no words to describe the absurdity of this.
“Actually, you just did use some words.”
Okay, to be precise, I’m using my words to tell you I have no words to describe the absurdity of this. Happy?
“It’s just as easy to get these things right. I’m only here to help.”
That’s not what the therapist told me.
“Save of the Week” material by Raúl Fernández to deny Jerry Bengston’s header. One of the coolest things in soccer is a fingertip-the-ball-over-the-crossbar save. That was sweet.
“Boy you sure do like to hyphenate those compound adjectives don’t you?”
Yes, I guess you could say I’m a hyphenate-those-comp . . .
“Stop, okay? Just stop.”
Fine. Kenny Cooper and Bobby Shuttlesworth in a heavy collision as Coop goes up for a header. The ball went in, but the offisde flag was up. That’s two big boys hitting each other right there. That may have registered on the Richter Scale.
“They don’t use the Richter Scale anymore.”
I know, but it wouldn’t have the same impact to say “That may have registered on the Moment Magnitude Scale”.
“Touché”.
Blas Peréz in for Coop. The game really opens up starting in the 64th minute. Fernández and Shuttlesworth both are keeping their teams in this thing. It’s getting really fun to watch.
Blas scored against Honduras last week during World Cup Qualifers, so he should have a bit of confidence coming in to this match.
Fernández robs Toja. Ten minutes to go. This one feels like it has a late winner in it. I’ve no clue who is more likely to get it at this point. Very entertaining for the moment, but with the potential for heartbreak looming just around the corner.
“Let’s leave your love life out of this.”
Okay you know what? That’s just uncalled for.
“My bad.”
GOAL! Mighty Mouse! ¡Superratón! Magic! Ferreira on the left wing with a sublime ball to Peréz, who sneaks a header just past Shuttlesworth. Beauty.
Three minutes and stoppage time left. This is like Bizzaro FCD; scoring at the last minute to win a close game. I like it.
Full time. One-nil to the good guys.
Revs fans booing their team at the final whistle. Go easy you guys. It was good close game in the beginning of the season. You’ll be fine. I know it’s Boston and all, but you just can’t do that. Have some faith.
Or, if you simply must boo your own team, wait until August.
As is the tradition in that city.
“That was cold, man. I like it.”
I aim to please.
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