Awaydays: Real Salt Lake
Editor: Glenn is an active member of the ASG and the ECS. He also has trouble understanding that a Mimosa is a better cash to alcohol ratio than watered down SLC beer.
Salt
Lake City away was a trip of firsts for me. My first away trip with the Emerald City Supporters. My first time in Utah. My first time traveling any length of
time for the sole purpose of a 90 minute event. And guess what folks…I'm hooked.
The
weekend started on Friday. I took
the day off while my wife, Britany, worked a few hours in the morning. The whole day I was jumping around the
house, packed, watched Arlo White's match preview, watched some ECS you-tube
videos for motivation (PMFC, you are a god among mortals), and generally went
crazy with anticipation. Packing
was easy, actually…Keller jersey?
Check. ECS shirt? Check. ECS scarf?
Check. Knit cap courtesy of
The Cutter? Check. ECS hoodie (thanks Evilive)? Check. Well that was easy.
We
get to the airport, and as we clear security I see three guys in SSFC warm-ups
at Starbucks. Levesque,
Fucito, and a third guy I didn't recognize. They rode the tram with us to the terminal, then went to the
gate next door. We discover that
the entire team is already there, and traveling on the flight just before
ours. So I look around, and see
the bar. Well if there's any ECS
flying right now, that's where they will be. Sure enough, I find about a dozen huddled around some way to
small tables filled with empty glasses, bitching about not being able to order
more beer until their glasses were nearly empty.
I
get introduced to the crew present, and I'll confess I had to be reintroduced a
few times and some names I've already forgotten. I do recall LiquidMJ and DigitalWoodchuck, and to the rest I
do apologize. Anyway, I find out
that most of them I flying on the same flight as the team, and that's an hour
earlier than mine. So I talk to
the Delta reps and sure enough, I get my flight changed!
So
at this moment began the pattern.
The drinking commenced at 1 pm Seattle time. I did not stop, nor really drink anything but alcohol until
Sunday afternoon. This match
report could stop right there and it would have been a great weekend.
When
we board, the ECS guys all got on before the team. I ended up sitting four rows behind the entrance, so I was
the first ECS that the players saw.
Nearly every one said hi, slapped my shoulder, or nodded on my way by. Well, all except for Keller and
Ljundberg, who were in first class, and Sigi, who was two rows in front of
me. The team was recognized by the
flight crew, which was a nice gesture.
We
take off, one of the ECS guys in the rear breaks into a solo performance of
"Bluest Skies". Here's to you,
Off-Key Solo Soccer Chanter.
You're one of us. The rest
of the flight is spent making fun of Jay, who even though he bought a first
class ticket spent most of his time delivering beer to the back of the plane.
Once
we land, we get the shuttle, and find our way to the hotel. On my way, I am impressed with the
beauty of the Salt Lake City. It
reminds me, and not in a morbid way, of Afghanistan. Surrounded by snow-capped mountains, clear sky, clean air. Not too bad at all.
After
checking into our rooms and dropping our luggage, we square ourselves away for
a long night of drinking and singing, the former to begin immediately at the
hotel bar. There we start to
gather in numbers, adding the Blurry One himself to our ranks. It was on that small table that he
created the first-ever ECS Napkin Tifo.
Indeed, we are in awe.
After downing a round or two there, we are informed the hotel has a sky
bar. Well now, that must be
investigated. So off we go.
Again
our numbers swell as we down watery mixed drinks and weak beer with a backdrop
of the Olympic hotel. We sing our
first few chants, and demand that all TVs within view of our presence be
changed to FSC and Gol TV. We get
our way.
Finally
it is time to head out to the Piper Down.
A very chatty hotel shuttle driver who actually had some interesting
opinions about soccer in America drove us down there, and we stand in front of
what can only be described as an Irish Biker bar. Yeah, doesn't make sense to me either. We were told the back room would be
reserved for us, but some political event is going on back there, so we wait
out in the general population.
A
few locals try their best to heckle us, but after being thoroughly ignored they
shut up. Finally the back room is
ours, though a few of the
political types haven't left yet.
We stake our claim, hang the tifo, and let the singing begin. It wasn't easy, we had drunk locals
trying to hold conversations during chants, and blaring music over the speakers
they refused to turn off. Though
we made the best of it, with a Sounders adaption of "Sweet Caroline". When we'd sing, the whole front room
would get quiet and look back at us.
Thanks to the weak alcohol, most of us drank more than usual in order to
achieve the same affect. "I'm a
Sounder, I'm seldom sober." It was
a most excellent night, made even better with the announcement that the Drew
Carey had bought us food! "We love
you free food, we do!" I finally
left around midnight or so, and hit the sack in order to be well rested for the
next day.
When
we get up, we wander down to the breakfast buffet and run into several
ECS. We make plans to wander SLC
with a few of them after breakfast, picking up our MTA tickets along the way. But once we get to the station, a walk
filled with Mormon jokes about Bigamy Bucks, we decide to just head over to the
Piper Down and get the day started.
When
we get there, we move into the back room without even asking. Again the tifo comes up, and we order
beer and breakfast. Or is that
beer for breakfast? Our poor
waitress worked her ass off serving us and the front, and she didn't get help
until very late in the day. We
figured out how to work their TVs, and began a pre-game of watching Seria A,
then El Clasico, and finally Philly vs D.C. Again we chant, again we sing, and again we drink some
more. Our numbers swell
until we fill nearly the entire bar.
There's a few bikers towards the front that don't know what's going
on. For once, they don't run this
bar.
Here
I must comment on the cheapest drink/drunk of the day. The bar had dollar Mimosas, which
DigitalWoodchuck consumed like the water they likely were. Unconcerned for the damage such a
concoction could have on his manhood, he stalwartly stuck with his drink of
choice, even christening them "Manmosas".
Indeed, DWC, indeed.
Finally
it is time to move out. Tabs are
paid, tickets are collected, and we gather on the sidewalk. The sun is out, and so is the Rave
Green. We march down the street,
singing and chanting. Cars slow
because they don't know what's going on.
Some honk, many flip us off.
"No one likes us, no one likes us." Evilive leads us in a new song, "Whose your mother". We make it to the train station, and
squish aboard the first car. Now
our chanting is even louder. When
we stop along the way, some RSL fans see who's aboard and decide to wait for
the next train. Others get off our
car and seek quieter seats.
So
we're singing every song we know, every verse, and BEB points out the "No
Swearing" sign. No sooner than he
does do we feel the train stop and the driver come out of the cab. "Hey! Hey!" he
shouts, "If I hear I more swear word-" and about then another chant is
started. It is not easy to stop
the ECS once they start chanting, especially in low visibility like a
train. The message is getting
really muddled until BEB jumps up and shouts "We're here! We're there! We're not allowed to swear! ECS…ECS…!" And
the chanting resumes, as does the train ride.
When
we arrive at the right stop, we discover that the back of the train has been
occupied by Barra Real, the flag waving and drum beating supporters group of
RSL. Once we clear the platform we
let them pass, chanting as they go.
Even with their drums, we easily overpower them. But more to come on that later.
We
walk to their stadium, which would be like if a stadium was build in
Woodinville. Middle of nowhere, no
real city nearby, all flatland.
Their approach to the stadium itself is gravel and thin grass. We take up station outside their "Real Carnivale",
right behind Barra Real, and proceed to trounce them in another chanting
match. We know that battle is won
when they take to beating their drums incoherently. From the highest reaches of the stadium, we suddenly see the
blue and green raised above their stadium sign. We chant all the louder, and the looks on the RSL fans' faces
was in a word: priceless.
Finally
we are escorted into the stadium, overwhelming the poor ticket scanner. We take our section in the upper levels
and are rewarded with a great view of the mountains and the sunset, not to
mention an unobstructed view of the field and stadium. I will give them this…Rio Tinto is a
beautiful stadium.
We
settle and prepare. Our chants are
occasionally interrupted by attempts from RSL fans below us to counter, but
they fail miserably. In fact, for
the majority of the first half, many of them spent more time watching us than
the game.
The
opening ceremonies aren't worth describing, because we were busy chanting and
singing while holding up our Mr. Yuk two-poles and runners. There is no way they couldn't hear us
on their broadcasts. And a whole
section of green stands out in that stadium like…well, like poison!
Another
fail from RSL's front office, as the game starts while the starting lineups are
still being announced. We sing
even louder now, making sure our boys can hear every word. Soon Sounders fans from elsewhere in
the stadium start to flock to us, filling our section. Conversely, RSL fans nearby start to
leave, and we tell them as they go, "Don't worry, there's plenty of open
seats."
We
scored our first goal, and we went crazy!
Our joy was heard all the clearer over the dead silence of the rest of
the stadium. We carried the lead
into the second half, but not before witnesses two tifo fails from the RSL
supporter's groups. One an upside
down overhead (as in the backside was visible) and one a card tifo that was
still shuffled.
The
second half opens, and shortly RSL puts one in. We refuse to be silent, and in fact get louder and
stronger. We will not give
up. Our effort is rewarded when
again we score, and RSL fans start to trickle out of the stadium. We make sure they only thing they can
hear when they leave is "Seattle Sounders Here We go!"
But
then we see four minutes of stoppage time…this can't be good. And sure enough, Murphy's law struck
with seconds to go. We kept our
voices high "We love you Sounders, we do", but you could see it in our eyes. We had been screwed. Bent over, no lube. So we hunkered down in our section and
waited for the RSL fans to file out.
Once security was ready, we got escorted out and headed back to the
train station.
On
the train, we were a subdued bunch.
But someone still made certain that an ECS sticker was applied over the
"No Vandalism" sign, a little passive-aggressive attack on our favorite Mormon
mass transit system. From there,
we split up to various post-game locations, seeking to drown our sorrows.
Sunday
morning, I set out to accomplish a non-Sounders mission. The Red Iguana was a Mexican restaurant
featured on Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives on the Food Network, and good Mexican
food is hard to find on the Olympic Peninsula. So I gathered a few ECS, and we headed out. It was well worth it, especially to
find the ECS sticker on the door!
Then
we set out to offend the Mormon church, as myself and others scarfed every
statue we could find in the Mormon Temple grounds. We got several odd looks from the wandering tourists and
workers, and even some smiles and laughs.
One worker even tagged us as soccer supporters.
We
then returned to the hotel, got our bags, and headed off to the airport. There we got one last round in at Dick
Clark's American Bandstand Bar and Grill, and returned tired, voiceless, and
hung-over to our beloved Seattle.
To
those who were there: you will
notice that I intentionally leave out the incidents that occurred involving
myself and my wife. The vast
majority of the RSL fans were courteous and friendly to us, and these two
jerk-offs will not tarnish my memories of this amazing trip.
I
eagerly look forward to my next opportunity to be an "Away Boy", and thank all
of you who made the trip for welcoming both me and my wife on our first time
out with the ECS.
