Tales from the Shed

By Roberto
August 17 2003

Tales from the Shed is a match report and other happenings within section 107 The Woodshed plus our watering hole The Bitter End Pub

If there is one thing that can be definitively said about the 2003 Timbers season it is that the entire year has not lacked for drama. On Friday evening with their playoff hopes fading faster than a smoke bomb sprayed by a rent-a-cop fire extinguisher, our heroes in green and white pulled off another last minute win and gave their growing masses a reason to maintain the faith. It was Hispanic Culture Night at the park, along with Crappy License Plate Holder Night, Timbers Army VIP Night, Eastside Youth Soccer Night and, sadly, the first game of the post-Timber Jim era. With the stars aligned and a game played on a Friday evening, lo and behold but what did we see; the season's largest attendance of the year. For 90 minutes the 7,000+ were treated to some of the most uninspired football action seen on this or any side of the Atlantic. Playing against an Indiana team that had managed to come away as victors in just three our its first 24 matches, the Timbers played like they were the team without playoff hopes. All game long the lads played the really tiresome long ball game that appears to be the only card up a certain manager's sleeve. One volley after another was sent into the box from Messrs. Hugo and Jake, and one volley after another was calmly sent out by the team from Hoosier Nation. Despite this rather uninspired display, the Shed was in rare - some might even say unprecedented - form. Old and young, new and experienced, men, women and children were united in a common voice that reverberated through the Rose City night. Our comrades from the Balkans showed their commitment to their new brethren by bringing a pair of new drums which they proceeded to pound for 90 minutes straight. All around them voices sang out, letting the lads know that we were there for them and that we were prepared to shag Indy's women and drink Indy's beer. We raised our scarves for the Rose City and we raised our volume after the first smoke bomb was lit. Alas, after 90 minutes of compelling, but unnecessary drama, with all of us in a ritualistic frenzy, Hugo sent one finally volley into the box. Unlike the 57 other times we saw this play this evening, this particular one served a purpose. Darting past his defender with a quickness that he hasn't seen in probably a decade, our red haired workhorse from the land of the Kiwi, threw himself forward and used his big, beautiful mop to redirect the ball into the back of the net. On the seventh day God said let the Timbers Army rejoice. And rejoice we did. A virtual disco broke out on top of the dugout. The noise, the energy, the emotion - it was scary electric. But as has been the case throughout our team's history, the game was still not over. With an Indiana player working his way free into the box and with a rent-a-cop goon working his way towards one of those really dangerous smoldering smoke bombs that undoubtedly would place millions at risk if left smoking in a plastic bucket, our savior Saunders focused only on the job at hand. Diving to his left, he used all 6-feet-4 of his frame to pluck the hard skipping shot off of the pitch with his fingertips, holding on to the ball and holding on to our playoff dreams. 1-nil to the Rose City. The festive mood continued afterward at the pub where the voices of the Army put the Dolemites to shame. We sang to Eli's birthday, we sang to Nevets inebriation, we sang to the Timbers. We continued singing all the way to the Kingston were the losers from Indy ate their postgame meals outside. We continued to sing as a certain Army member employed in the public transportation industry nearly game to blows with a certain Indiana forward employed in the football losing industry. And your correspondent sang to himself as he walked over the Morrison Bridge at 3am wondering how the hell he ended up where he was. And we shall continue to sing all the way through Sunday evening when our lads go to B.C. with the entire season on the line. Portland Timbers, here we go... Until next time, Roberto Unofficial and Unelected Writer-in-Arms Timbers Army