My 2nd most favorite DC United player has finally launched his site bobbyboswell.com. I’m most excited about [emphasis mine]:
A mission to have some fun, share insight into the lives of soccer players/professional athletes, discuss in detail the specimen known as Ben Olsen, promote charities and organizations that we work with, and give away some pretty sweet prizes. Oh, and be the star of spectacular video segments!
I’m sad that we probably won’t be going to too many matches this year — since I don’t think Bridget would really be too enthused. At least we’ll be able to see them all on TV.
Brendan has his Ben, and I have mine. My Ben was the theme for my birthday presents this year: a jersey and an offical autographed card. Now we just have to start going to matches again. Although, once Bridget gets older we’ll have to move from the "fun side" of the stadium (near the fan clubs) to the family side. If Bridget ever decides that she wants to play soccer, I don’t want her chanting "F$%# YOU REF!" When she’s upset over a call.
At least it’s cooled off around here today. Brendan is going to the football match today: DC United vs Chelsea FC. He’s meeting my dad and little brother Steven there. Since I have to teach tonight and can’t go, David* is going to go with him. It should be fun. The seats aren’t the best — they are behind the goal — but they are right near the Screaming Eagles and Barra Brava. I’m a little disappointed that I don’t get to go. Tonight is, however, my last night of teaching. Bittersweet.
* I know how much you like getting your name in print here, David.
Some differences between soccer and baseball at RFK.
1. Intensity. At the soccer match, the stadium bounces. There are drums and horns and whistles. We stand and scream for 45 minutes, sit down at the half for a few, then get up and yell for 45 more. Yes, we cheered at the baseball game, but there’s a lot of sitting and waiting in between.
2. Section. Our tickets for soccer are in section 231. At the baseball game, we sat in 522. Not a bad view, but it’s a big difference.
3. Attendance. 20,000 at soccer, 47,000 37,000 at baseball. Which leads me right to number 4
4. Lines. Brendan was in line for 45 minutes before the game to get us hats, and food. He came back with hats and beer. Later on in the game, we waited for 2 innings in line* to get food. Some little 13 year old punk was trying to cut in line, too. He said to me "I’m not trying to cut." As I sent him evil eye darts. Stupidly, I believed him. He was looking at the menu, and moving up in the line next to, and a little in front of, us. I thought maybe he was with the guy in line ahead of us — maybe it was his dad or uncle or something. But that guy ordered then we ordered and the kid got his money out, like he was going next. That’s when Bren said to him, "Now I know that this young lady was before you. And you are going to go get in the back of the line and wait like the rest of us." The kid started to say something and Bren continued "You said to my wife just a few minutes ago ‘I’m not trying to cut.’ but you are. So go wait." It would have been a lynch mob if that kid hadn’t walked away. Dumbass.
5. Length. A soccer game is guaranteed to be 90 minutes long. Maybe a few minutes longer for stoppage time, but just about 90 minutes. Baseball takes forever. Especially when they keep changing pitchers. Let the guy get into some kind of a rhythm. Jesus. He walks one guy — the first guy he’s facing — and you take him out? Christ. It takes ages. The last 1/2 inning alone took ages.
Different as they are, I like them both. Right now, I like soccer more. Good thing, too since we have season tickets. We’re going to another ball game, but that might be it for me this year. We’ll see.
* It seems so stupid to me that they didn’t have the radio on by the concession stands. What’s up with that? I’d like to know what’s going on when I’m standing in line for 2 whole innings.
Just got back from the DC United home opener. Shittiest. Refs. Ever. It ended in a tie, but the Chicago Fire should never have scored the goal they did. The player who scored was so obviously offsides, even my father, who doesn’t understand the rule, would know he was offsides. And yet, no flag went up. The entire crowd stood there in disbelief until we all realized that there was going to be no call. Not to mention all the other calls that were obviously wrong or never called. We were robbed.