“The spectator is set at an absolute distance, a distance that precludes practical or goal-oriented participation. But this distance is aesthetic distance in a true sense, for it signifies the distance necessary for seeing, and thus makes possible a genuine and comprehensive participation in what is presented before us. A spectator’s ecstatic self-forgetfulness corresponds to his continuity with himself. Precisely that in which one loses oneself as a spectator demands that one grasp the continuity of meaning. For it is the truth of our own world—the religious and moral world in which we live—that is presented before us and in which we recognize ourselves…What rends him from himself at the same time gives him back the whole of his being.”
–Hans-Georg Gadamer, Truth and Method, p. 128.
I write for therapy. Eagerly anticipated this game, sat first row, 25 yard line, wore me scarf (thanks, wife), sunk my head in shame at defeat.
As a team, our World Cup squad just wasn’t there. No runs, no diagonals. O’Brien and Convey’s through balls were laughably wasted because no one bothered to make the run to be there for them. We started with a new formation for Arena’s Nats, 4-3-3, and then switched to a 3-5-2 for the last 20 minutes to press for the first goal. Our back was solid until the switch to 3-5-2 (a 3 without Gooch and with Cherondolo and Gibbs??? Bruce, eat more bananas. We need defense, not offense, in the back 3). This was a shame, because the crowd was peppy with chants and colors. Largest soccer crowd ever in Tennessee, yo. Far from the moribund concrete structure that was the Birmingham stadium last year. After the last four minutes of stoppage, I was like a kid, not wanting my, ahem, hopeful heros to stop playing. 90 minutes too short.
- Items of interest:
- Personal notes from personal observations:
- Upside: Schooled. Gumby was fast and pernicious, especially providing some harassing defense in the midfield. Mastroni looked sharp, defending and distributing. He looked ready for Serie A, not like a Rapid. Convey sparked our only sustained offensive attacks. Imagine: running at the midfield, beating a guy, and passing it through the defense to a forward! Is that what the English teach you? Gooch = Daddy.
- Downside: hotel trouble. Landycakes had already checked out of his hotel in Nashville, and never bothered with the game. It was especially galling to see him sauntering around the middle of the pitch as Morocco did touch-passes through the middle two yards in front of him. Gibbs’ positioning was scary like a 15th floor balcony with no rail. McBride was…where was Brian again? Did Conrad lock in his hotel room? Jimmy!.. Wolff’s gameplan: run really fast, trap like an elephant, pass like a brick, run really fast and make it all up. Unfortunately, like most soccer players, he can kick the ball faster than he can run and catch up with it. Deuce, Ching, EJ: call your mommy, you forgot your game back at home. Keller was still eating the complimentary breakfast he snuck out, and didn’t come out for that loose ball that ended up in his net in the 89th.
May 24th, 2006 | Chattanooga, Soccer, Sucks | 5 comments