STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS DALLAS v CHICAGO (BRIMSTONE I)

STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS – ROAD TRIP EDITION – DALLAS v CHICAGO 4.2.2005

I arrived at the Sooner Fashion Mall in lovely Norman, Oklahoma at 3:30 pm to park my aging pickup truck and rendezvous with my great friend and infamous Chicago Fire fan, Mike Segroves. A better road trip companion you will never find. We headed south on I-35, hoping to make it to the Cotton Bowl in time for some tailgating with the Inferno prior to kickoff.

We pulled in to the venerable old stadium’s parking lot right at 6:30, having spent more time in traffic inside the Dallas city limits than we had between the Red River and that same boundary. Gee I love the big city. The good Infernites greeted us heartily, gave Mike the required amount of pre-game abuse for wearing his Fire jersey, and forced some beer on us. Roundabout 7:00 we make our way to the stadium in time to watch a bit of the warm-ups and get settled for kickoff. I make my way to the souvenir stand, do some mental calculations, decide that if necessary I can live another 3 weeks til payday on PB&J sandwiches and tuna fish, and plunk down the cash for a beautiful new FC Dallas hoop jersey. Eventually I plan to put the name “Trotman” and the number 20 on the back. I miss Mickey.

I go down to the Inferno section and get ready to yell. Chants of “Pes-ca-di-to” are already ringing from the stands. I understand this new guy, Ruiz, used to play for Los Angeles, and has a reputation as a great sportsman and a class act. I think that’s terrific. We need those kinds of players here in Dallas. I also hear he scored a few goals last year. Even better.

Ahem.

Anyway, the game starts. Not being ones to keep their fans in suspense, the boys take less than three minutes to show us their new look. Ronnie streaks down the left, side foots a looping ball to Ruiz, who flicks it with his head to an onrushing Richard Mulrooney, who SLAMS the ball past the newly reacquired Zach Thornton.

Just like that. 1-nil. The Cotton Bowl crowd, all penned in on one side of the stadium, for some reason, goes berserk. What a start. It was like a bad TV script, if that’s not a redundancy.

But, for the rest of the half, the Bulls take their collective foot of the gas, and Chicago controls the pace and possession right up to the whistle. Nate Jacqua has a couple of decent chances, but Scott Garlick is already in mid-season form, and has no trouble keeping the lead intact.

It was a bit disorienting watching us run out to quick lead and then basically get schooled the rest of the half, but a one-goal lead is a one-goal lead. I’m happy. The defense looked solid, the midfield looked good when attacking, but had trouble winning and keeping the ball, and the forwards looked like they hadn’t spent much time together (which is excusable, since Ruiz just got to Dallas, oh, roughly, two days before the game).

Not ones to let go of a good thing, the boys decide to come out after halftime and score immediately again. I could get used to this. Vanney gets a nice ball from Ronnie (I think . . . maybe Simo), takes it to the left side of the area, makes a great cross to Eddie Johnson, who heads the ball at a seemingly impossible angle to catch Thornton flatfooted. Boom. 2-nil. Less than two minutes have passed in the second half. Delirium. Joy. Volume. What a great night.

I catch Greg Elliott’s eye as he walks past the Inferno and give him a look as if to say “Wow, what have you done here? This is great!” He just gives me a grin and points to his watch, wisely cautioning that there’s a lot of football left to play. He turns out to be as prophetic as he usually is. This ain’t Greg’s first Rodeo, kids. He knows what’s what.

After this, play is pretty back and forth. We’re on the end of the field where the back line is this half, so I get plenty of time to watch Phillip Salyer. He’s not a very big guy, I find out, and probably not the fastest guy on the team. But I find out two things about him: first, he’s as tenacious as a hungry bulldog. All hustle, not afraid to play physical. Second, while all his clearances didn’t always hit the mark that night, the one time I saw him push the ball up the field, he looked a little like Paul Broome, which, to me, can only be a good thing. He took on some defenders and made a nice pass, then got back into position. I love that kind of defender. I think Phillip will take a lot of heat this year; indeed I read a lot of complaints about him on the boards Sunday. But I’m pretty happy with him. Clarence Goodson and Greg Vanney are good together in the middle. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to see much of Wagenfuhr.

Chicago’s Leonard Griffin was sent off in the 51st minute for a second stupidly hard tackle. This is just about the only thing Mr. Valenzuela got right all evening. It was as if he and I were seeing two different matches. I don’t normally complain about refereeing (really. . . what are you looking at me like that for?), but I thought Mr. V was awful. I imagine I’m not alone in this assessment.

When Chicago finally pulled one back (always listen to Mr. Elliott), I swear I thought it was offside, but I’m willing to stand corrected by anyone with an alternate opinion. Either way, Chicago showed spirit and deserved a goal for all their hard attacking work. Never a hint of giving up in them.

Speaking of spirit, kudos to the contingent of Fire fans who drove from Chicago (!) and camped out in the corner of the field nearest the Fire bench. They had great banners, loud voices, and didn’t even cause a fuss when three jacknut FCD fans decided to stand about three rows behind them and abuse them with nasty comments about people of Polish ancestry. The guys from Section 8 were a credit to the Fire. Well done, gents.

Anyway, we finally made it to full time and enjoyed the first season-opening victory in about three years. I’m excited about the new players, the new uniforms (great!) and the upcoming new stadium. This is going to be a good year for Dallas fans. It sure was a great beginning, anyway.

The evening ended with further tailgating back at “the grassy knoll” in the Cotton Bowl parking lot. Many beers were drunk, Mr. Segroves graciously took further abuse about the game result, and MudPoet finally got the red ballcap with the bull-horns unglued from his scalp (Rags, I’m waiting for the photos). I love those Inferno folks.

Especially Sarah, who I’m pretty sure I proposed to, even though we had just met.

See you next week.