Oh man. I've wanted to write something really cool, you know, something really witty and smart about tonight's Seattle-New York/East Coast vs. West Coast/Sir-Mix-a-Lot vs. Jay-Z/ high profile clash. It's just that, well, I keep fluffin' stumbling. I can't seem to focus my thoughts through. I find myself with two paragraphs before I become completely disenchanted with the brilliant idea I just spawned seconds ago.
I want to convey excitement, but I can't seem to articulate myself in a manner in which you would still believe that A. I am familar with the English language, B. I have attained a degree from a recognized higher instituiton of learning, and C. I have read books without pictures in them. But darn! DARN IT! I just CAN'T!
Tonight's match is something I've looked forward to since last year's MLS Cup, especially because I get to see neon green splashed on an MLS side. There's something about that color that invokes childhood memories. I think it's Ninja Turtles. It was that retro-mutagen ooze that turned them into man-turtles, I believe. Ever since then, I've always had an affinity for the color. It's just unique. I love it. So does Seattle. So thank you, Seattle, for loving neon green enough to make your footballers wear it all the time.
I also feel that the Red Bulls should be forced to wear Cosmos kits so that the old Sounders-Cosmos in homage to the NASL rivalry that spraked up a few years before I joined this planet. I love history. I love soccer. I hate the name Red Bull New York. I am mad about this.
But not mad enough to stay away from the TV tonight to watch. Of course, as a red blooded soccer fan, I'm rooting for the Sounders. I want to see them win. I'm sure the league wants the same, although I doubt any league official will say so publicly.
I'm not sure if my dad will accompany me for the match. It kicks off at 9pm Eastern, so it may require some caffeinated beverages to keep him awake. He works long hours. I forgive him. Plus, he's good sport about it. He knows I'd rather watch with him rather than being couched in front of the TV alone. Dads are the best. My dad is the best of the best.
I have a seven page paper on philosophical discourses due next week. My prof wants a rough draft of it by tonight. I'm hoping that the phrase "by tonight" can be construed as "anytime between dusk and the following dawn," which will give me a good 6-7 hours after the match to e-mail it to him. I don't know why you would care about this, but I'm too lazy to press the delete button.
Anyway, if you're still with me, congratulations. You are a true friend of not only me, but of every troubled soul who follows soccer. I am indebted for your support. As a reward, here's a prediction:
Sounders 2.0, Red Bulls 3.14159265358979323846…
Doesn't make sense? Oh wait, J/K! LMAO!!! ;-)
OK, for real. Sounders 1, Red Bulls 1.
An own goal will occur because, quite frankly, I'm really in the mood for one. It'll provide an opportunity for my dad to laugh and say, "Brian, why do they pay these guys? Can't even score in the the right goal!" to which I'll say "Why do they pay me? I can't even carry an argument beyond two grafs!"