An ongoing list of my travels, interesting things I've seen along the way, and commentary
Well, a year has passed, and it's time for another trip back east to visit some more A-League cities. My plans this year had originally been to visit Charlotte, Indiana, Montreal, and Toronto, but when Charlotte and Indiana decided to go down for 2004, I decided to visit Minnesota and Milwaukee instead, before going on to Toronto and Montreal.
But when the schedule was announced, and I saw that my hometown Timbers were going to be in Charleston this year, that was a trip I just couldn't pass up. I tried to manipulate my schedule to include Minnesota or Milwaukee in the trip as well, but in the end I decided on a trip to Montreal and Toronto (which were essential stops, my first trip to each city), then stops in Pittsburgh (not A-League anymore) and Virginia Beach, mostly because they happened to be on the way to Charleston. But I'm also very happy I can catch up with the fans in both cities, as well as the visiting Richmond fans in Virginia Beach.
From there, I'll be going on to Charleston and Atlanta to see my beloved Timbers play before flying back out of Raleigh, NC on Sunday, June 6. My trip started with a flight from Portland to Chicago on Tuesday night, and then on to Raleigh on Wednesday morning, but I will start my travelogue with the first leg, which was for me a harrowing ordeal, of my own making.
As I did last year, I took the overnight United flight to Chicago, a flight I have taken many times before. As usual, it was a packed flight, and as normal, it was on a cramped Airbus A320. I have to admit I'm a glutton for punishment taking an A320 (or 319) which are known to be very cramped, but I sit on the aisle near the back every time, hoping my claustrophobia is relieved by being right on the aisle. Normally that's enough to prevent any problems, but on this night, it wasn't.
With about an hour to go in the flight, I was doing fine, but then a seemingly innocent event happened that made the last hour seem like four. The young man sitting in the seat next to me (a "middle" seat) accidentally stuck his leg into my footwell while he was sleeping, not difficult to do as he was very tall, and he took his foot out after about 15 seconds and it never happened again, but for me, this set off my claustrophobia which nearly had me hyperventilating and fighting off panic attacks. I went back to the back of the plane and talked to the stewards, who have to deal with this from time to time, and they gave me some water and let me stand back there for awhile. I made about four trips back there during the last hour, but it was enough to get me through. Not much fun, I must admit, but I did make it to Chicago okay, and the trip on to Raleigh was uneventful on a mostly empty plane, with nobody in the seat beside me, which is the best way for someone who can get claustrophobic to fly.
It's about seven hours drive from Raleigh to Philadelphia, but on this day, it took about eight as I hit traffic around Baltimore. Just like my first day last year, I spent much of the day in Virginia, and just like last year, it was a very hot day, with the temperature in the low 90's. One very amusing event I saw in Baltimore was an armored car which was going very slowly in the left lane, steam coming out of it's hood, overheating in the later afternoon sun. The amusing part of it was that there must have been 100 cars behind the armored car in the left lane, refusing to pass, apparently waiting for a payoff.
I almost cheered with glee seeing gas being sold as low as $1.89 a gallon, after having seen prices in Portland jump up to at least $2.20 in recent weeks. When I finally stopped for gas in Maryland (a bit higher, at $2.03, but still much cheaper than Portland), I noticed a large banner that advertised a 5 cent off sale on Tuesdays, which is a great public relations sale in days of prices that go up almost every day. But even though there were five or six banners proudly announcing the sale, apparently the banners were only there to attract those who are somewhat illiterate or who have slow attention spans: The sale expired nearly a month ago.
I arrived in Philadelphia at about 7pm and had a nice Italian dinner with Josh Hakala and his wife Sarah. Josh hosts The Soccer Fanatics Radio show, and I had met Josh in Milwaukee in 2002 and have been working with him via the web ever since.
My plan was to go downtown with Josh and do some sightseeing in downtown Philadelphia and to leave by 1pm at the latest. Well, everyone knows how the best laid plans can go..
But first, there is one thing I must mention about Philadelphia, which I learned no more than a few seconds after arriving the previous evening, and it's this:
People driving cars in Philadelphia don't stop..
For pedestrians
For stop signs
For stop lights
It took me only a few seconds to learn the first two, when crossing at the intersection of 48th and Pine, I had to jump out of the way of a car that barely hit the brake for the stop sign while I was crossing, missing me by no more than a foot.
As far as not stopping for red lights, that didn't take long to realize either. Especially in downtown Philadelphia, red lights are purely optional, and the extent to which people run red lights is almost unbelievable. On Wednesday night, while waiting at a red light, a car came up behind me, went around me to the right in a loading zone, never touching the break, and right through the red light I was sitting at. Such is the Philadelphia driving experience, and it takes some getting used to.
Actually, I must amend my previous statement.. there is one place cars in Philadelphia do stop.. that's right in the middle of the driving lane, in pretty much every block downtown on a typical day. On this day, I must have had to swerve around at least a dozen, who double- and even triple-parked all over downtown. It's amazing that these people don't get loaded down with tickets, with the way they drive. Well, perhaps I know why they don't get tickets.. the police have other targets for those, which I would find out later.
Josh and I parked at a meter in a 2-hour zone that wouldn't take our money (actually, it did take it, but gave no credit), but all of the meters on the block were flashing 0:00 so it appeared they were off, and just enforcing the 2 hour limit as all the spots were taken. We walked north and picked up some sticky buns, then over to the Liberty Bell and Constitution Hall where I got some pictures of Josh holding up his Timbers Scarf for me, soon to be enshrined on my Timbers Army scarf page.
We got back to the car before the 2 hour limit was up, but guess what? Apparently the disabled meter is just a ploy to drop $20 parking violations on the windshield, which is the present I had waiting for me. The meter itself? Working fine now. Apparently whatever "prevented" everyone from paying their $2 for 2 hours at 10:30 am had since been "enabled". But from a financial perspective for the city, $20 is better than $2, so from their point of view, I'm sure it's a financially sound strategy.
Before I left, Josh and I had lunch, enjoying the best Cheese Steak in town, at Geno's on Philly's South Side. I guess I never knew how Cheese Steak was "supposed" to taste.. but now I know, and it's a world of difference to anything else I had tried before, that's
for sure. I still can't believe Josh didn't get his with onions.. :)
I said my goodbye at about 3pm and headed north, first driving along I-95 before going off the major roads and through Princeton, NJ before picking up the interstate again a little further north.
I'm sure things get really interesting when someone wants to make a left turn across 3 lanes of traffic (near Raritan, NJ)
At about 10:30pm I crossed the border into Canada, and another half hour found me in Montreal. My hotel was right along the highway I had driven on from the border, route 15, so it would be a breeze to drive just north of downtown Montreal to my hotel in Laval, right?
Not even close.
The first sign of trouble was when I discovered that Autoroute #15 was CLOSED near downtown Montreal. While annoying, this didn't exactly send me into a panic, as I took the detour route, which went west on another highway. While watching carefully for the small "15 Nord" signs that marked the detour, they eventually showed up over the far right lane only, so I moved over the that lane.
A few miles later there was the sign to exit off for the detour (once again a small sign), but the problem was the exit was off the LEFT side of the freeway. There was no warning sign about this, and for anyone who actually followed the detour signs the far right lane, there was no chance of getting back to the correct exit. Of course, the highway I was on didn't have any exits for several miles, and it took me a good 45 minutes to finally loop back to the same place, to in fact confirm that you had to ignore the detour signs and stay in the left lane. Eventually I did find my hotel, a good 90 minutes after I had arrived in Montreal, only to have a surprise waiting for me in the parking lot.
A group of about eight young Canadian males, in their late teens or early 20's, were having a near-rumble in the parking lot of my hotel, just outside the front door. Fists were flying, people were chasing each other around the parking lot while yelling in French, and I did my best to try to slip in unnoticed. A good two hours later when I went to my car to grab my camera, there were still at least a half dozen of them, still yelling at each other.
I guess that would be the official greeting committee. :)
More to come..
For the first time in this year's trip, no travel today. I arrived in Montreal last night and this was a rest and recovery day in Montreal, plus a chance to look around.
Didn't see as much of Montreal as I planned to see, as traffic was a nightmare just about everywhere I went. I did see Olympic Stadium (from the outside) and some nice shopping neighborhoods in Montreal, and panicked briefly when it cost more than $50 (Canadian) to fill the tank of my rental car! That worked out to $2.69 a gallon US. Ouch!
Olympic Stadium, which Montreal is STILL paying for
Arrived a bit early at Claude Robillard Stadium, about 90 minutes early which is pretty normal for me, as I like to look around the stadium for awhile before the fans get in. Unfortunately, media are not allowed in before the general public at Robbillard, plus nobody seemed to know where I was to get my press pass anyway, so I waited outside the stadium for awhile before finally getting in.
Claude Robillard Stadium is actually part of a complex that has many fields, as well as in indoor track complex with stands, which was apparently built for the 1976 Olympics and used for team handball. A-league.com Montreal reporter Albert Ohayon gave me a short tour of the facility and mentioned that the indoor Montreal Impact used that arena for their last season in the NPSL. The back of the pressbox actually overlooks the indoor complex, which is actually similar to the arrangement I saw last year in Cincinnati, though that is where the comparison ends, as this was definitely a superior facility.
The view out of the back of the press box at Claude Robillard Stadium
The main grandstand is attached to the indoor facility. There is a track that separates the field from the stands and metal grandstands at the opposite side. On this evening, it was interesting to me that the opposite side stands were nearly full (which is general admission), while the "main" grandstand was only about 2/3 full, with many empty yellow seats.
But the crowd was loud and enthusiastic, especially when the Impact exploded for three second half goals for the 4-1 win.
In Friday's match report, I mentioned that there were some problems when I went to visit the "Ultras". Here is what happened, just so the record is clear.
I had been invited on one of the soccer boards by one of the Ultras to come over to the section and say hi when I was there. He told me to ask for him personally, so I had planned that out even before I went to the park. I had also been approached by a few other fans outside the park while we were waiting for the gates to open, who recognized my scarf and introduced themselves. They also invited me to come over to say hi. So during the second half, at about the 55th minute, I wandered over there and one of the fans I had met outside the park recognized me and greeted me, and we talked about the Impact, and soccer in Canada, and the Timbers for the next 15 minutes. The Impact scored a few times during this time and I cheered on the Impact when they did. I was having a great time.
I finally was able to identify the fan who had e-mailed me, so I wandered up to say hi to him and we talked for a bit as well. Eventually he moved on to lead the cheers so I stayed where I was, about half way up the section against the outside railing, minding my own business, just watching, and enjoying.
One of the Ultras who I had not talked to came down to me and asked me who I was, and what my scarf was. I took the scarf off (which had been around my neck the whole time to this point) and showed him the scarf and told him I was from Portland, he wanted to know why I was here, so I told him about my tour, and about trying to visit all of the A-League cities. He seemed confused and asked me if I was a journalist, and I said no, I was a fan and this was my vacation.
He walked back up to his spot but returned a few minutes later asking me more questions, about how he could get my scarf, and I thought he was asking about how we sold the scarfs so I told him we sold them at cost for $8, and had ordered 400 so far. I wasn't getting through, apparently, and he left again.
A few minutes later he took his flagpole and lifted the scarf off my shoulders while I wasn't looking, and I grabbed it as he attempted to take it away. I thought he was kidding but he clearly wanted it, so eventually I let go, not wanting to stretch or tear it, figuring he just wanted to see it.
But I was very surprised when he handed it to another fan, who took out his lighter and immediately began to try to set it on fire. He tried three or four times, for about 15 seconds, but it just wouldn't catch. It's acrylic, so it's not surprising that it wouldn't catch. But it wasn't for lack of trying.
I was a bit in shock, not knowing how to react to that, when the person who had originally snatched the scarf came down, stuck his face in mine, and told me to leave, that I was not welcome here. I asked him why I wasn't welcome here, but didn't seem to get an answer. He just went back up and grabbed the scarf again, and started showing it off to his mates and starting a series of "Portland sucks" chants that a few others joined in. I'm not sure exactly why they would hate Portland, unless it was for the 3-0 drubbing the Timbers gave them back in 2002, but I doubt he or any of his mates even knew the teams had even faced each other.
Not knowing what to do, but not willing to give up on my personal Timbers scarf, I talked to the person who had originally invited me there, and told him what had happened, and he went and negotiated with the person who had my scarf, and he returned it to me, not really saying anything, and I took my scarf and left. It was near the end of the match by this time.
But for me, it wasn't over, because whether deliberately or coincidentally, three of the "Ultras" who had been part of the group that had been chanting "Portland sucks" followed me as I walked around the south end of the field back towards the press box. The whole way there, I could hear them taunting me from behind, with a long sequence of "F**k Portland" and occasionally other comments in French that I couldn't completely understand, but I got the gist of the nature of the comments. Eventually I slipped away from them as I headed back towards the press box while they headed out.
Why have I gone into so much detail on this? Well, I wanted to be clear that I did not provoke anything here. I was simply and out-of-town fan visiting who wanted to experience the atmosphere in Montreal. Unfortunately, for whatever reason, it turned ugly, and now that I have had a day to think about it, there are only a few reasons I can think of why they chose to go after me like they did.
- I'm an American
- I don't speak French (very well, though I understood more than they thought I did. I did have three semesters of college French so I wasn't totally clueless to what they were saying).
- They were causing trouble for the sake of causing trouble.
While I'd say #3 is probably the main reason, I'm sure all three had something to do with it. But it doesn't excuse that kind of behavior. If a visitor from another A-League team, one we did not have a rivalry with (like Montreal) were to show up in the Timbers Army with a Montreal scarf, just wanting to experience what we had to offer, I can guarantee that fan would be welcomed, given a beer, offered a scarf in exchange, and welcomed as a third-party fan who was a temporary Timbers Army member for the day. That is also how I have been treated in other cities I have visited.
But unfortunately, what this has shown me is that the Montreal Ultras are not like other support groups, that least in that respect. Some are just trying to be hooligans for the sake of being hooligans, and I can only think that these fans really have no interest in the success of the A-League, or even their own team. They are just hooligan wannabes who targeted me, and all I can say is you do your team, your support group, and your city a disservice when you go after someone who was there to give some positive exposure to your team and your group, and instead, well, you have a reputation to live down.
And to the 75%-80% of the section that did not take part in this embarrassment, I'm sorry it has affected the reputation of you as well because you are excellent supporters, the kind any team in the league would love to have.
I would only offer one piece of advice that we have learned very well with our increasingly large group in Portland (now up to about 150 to 175).
Make sure you police yourselves. It's important for the Impact. It's important for the league.
Long drive to Toronto today. Well, it wasn't that long really (about six hours), but it just seemed long because unlike most of the trips I made, there were really no intermediate checkpoints, and the entire trip looks almost exactly the same, geographically: flat, with occasional glimpses of the St. Lawrence River or Lake Ontario to the left. I still haven't gotten used to kilometers, so seeing "Toronto 500" scared me a bit, until I quickly did the conversion in my head.
Arrived in Toronto around 3pm, checked into my hotel, rested a bit, then off to the stadium, which was just across the street, but a bit too far to walk. Centennial Park is a pretty large complex, with several fields, and indoor arena, and a "ski hill" which is maybe 80 feet high, and though I'm not sure what it's used for during the summer, there were several people climbing it as I arrived. The stadium sits near the center of the complex, with a grass hill all the way around, and the main grandstand being the only seats in the complex, on the west side of the pitch. Like Montreal, a track separates the stands from the pitch.
No need to show us how Amazing it is (at the Ontario Visitor Center)
Nice to have an escape route, but I have another day to go yet.
The Lynx dance team. No comment.
About a dozen of the Montreal Ultras showed up for the match, including at least one who I know was one of those who attempted to burn my scarf the previous evening, so after a quick hello to the Ultra who got my scarf back, I stayed clear.
Very bright day, so I got some nice pictures. But I have to admit, the Toronto dance team and pep squad were driving me MAD! If I was suddenly transferred to Toronto and had to go to Lynx games to get my A-League fix, I'm not sure I could put up with it on a constant basis. It was like the worst memories of high school football games. I'm not trying to be critical of the Lynx setup in general. It's a nice (though small) stadium, and getting my press pass went off without a hitch, and overall it was an entertaining game. But the pep squad and dance team really have to go, in my opinion. I would think there are many soccer fans who simply will not put up with it. As I said, I'm not sure I could.
And of course I spent my evening in my hotel room dealing with a bad connection, trying to get the web feed of the Timbers/Wave United match to stay up. But in the end, I did get to listen as the Timbers as they went down 2-0 in the 2nd half, but then.…
Well, you can all look it up. I don't want to punish any Milwaukee fans who may be following along by rubbing it in. :)
When I planned this trip out, I thought I had put together a pretty manageable schedule. But as it turns out, this day was not well planned out. In order to do what I wanted to do on this day, I had to wake up at 4am to get an early start. As it happened, I didn't get to sleep until 2:30, so I spent a grand total of 90 minutes in my bad at the hotel in Mississagua, Ontario. At about 4:45, while still dark, I headed out on the nearly empty roads.
As I turned around the western edge of Lake Ontario, headed back east towards the border crossing at Niagara Falls, I got a spectacular view of Lake Ontario, bathed in a blood-red as the sun was getting ready to come up. Even at a distance of 30 or 40 miles, I could still clearly see the CN Tower almost all the way to Niagara Falls. I had never visited the falls before, so at 6:30, just after the sun had come up, I drove down to see the falls.
When I emerged from the enormous valley of hotels that line the street down to the falls, I suddenly saw the American Falls right in front of me, and I heard myself utter "Good God!" as I saw the size of the falls. Then a few seconds later, as I turned south on Falls Avenue, I saw Horseshoe Falls, which is the "real" Niagara Falls to most people, and words couldn't do it justice. But I couldn't see it all from the street, so I had to go get a closer look.
I drove into a nearly deserted parking lot at the Visitor Center at Horseshoe Falls (which would have been $18 had anyone been there to collect it), and gathered my camera and jacket and walked across the empty street to the Visitor Center, and then to the walkway that went within mere feet of the falls itself.
Almost on top of the falls
I'm not sure if this is just something that happens at 6:30am, but the falls produced their own weather… a driving rainstorm. A few yards away, in the parking lot, it had been chilly but clear. On the other side of the street, it was windy and raining from all directions as the spray came up off the falls. I had to shield myself against it as I struggled against the wind. Finally I found a spot just to the side of the falls where the wind wasn't so bad, and snapped some pictures. The energy of that much water going over the 167 foot drop was mind-boggling, but one thing you don't realize from pictures or TV is the deep rumble of the falls, which you can feel throughout your entire body. It's quite an amazing experience, and one I was glad to get the chance to experience, something made even more surreal by the fact that I was there alone.
Walking back to the car, with the streets still nearly empty, I noticed that the enormous hotels that sit on a bluff that overlook the falls made this seem more like Monaco than Ontario. Along the west side of the Niagara River, at least a half dozen hotels rise 20 stories or more, something that of course you don't know unless you have been there. A beautiful, out-of-the-way spot this is not. This is the big time.
Tall hotels loom over the falls
Hmmm, makes sense to me (at the signal from the Niagara Falls Visitor Center to parking lot crossing)
I got into Pittsburgh at 11:30 and after checking into my hotel, headed downtown to see the Pirates play at their new stadium, which opened in 2001. Growing up in Western Maryland, I had seen the Pirates play at Three Rivers Stadium many times, so I couldn't miss this opportunity to see their brand new stadium, considered by many to be the nicest in the major leagues. Of course, the only REAL way to get to the ballpark is to take the Clipper across the river from Station Square, as I had done to Three Rivers many times, so that's what I did. And despite having to wait in line for quite awhile for a ticket, I settled into my seat just behind first base in the 2nd inning.
Approaching PNC Park on a Gateway Clipper
From the concourse behind home plate
It is indeed a beautiful ballpark, and very well laid out. There truly isn't a bad seat in the stadium, and you can see the field from just about every concession stand in the park, so you never miss a thing. Of course by the seventh inning, a 1-1 game became a 3-1 game for the Cubs, and I had another game to get to as this game dragged on, so I missed the last two innings, but had my chance to see PNC Park in person. It turns out I left at the right time, as the final was 12-1 Chicago.
Jason Kendall got a single on this pitch
HAH! I was challenged to get the threads on a major league pitch with my camera, and I did!
This was the boat I rode to the game, seen from another boat on the way back to Station Square
I met with Rob Wilson for dinner, our a-league.com representative in Pittsburgh, who I had met last year on my tour when I was in Columbus (and was the first person I had met on BOTH tours). Afterwards we headed just up the road to Moon High School, literally across the street from the hotel where I was staying. It's your basic high school stadium, with a grandstand on one side, bleachers on the other, a track, field turf, and football lines painted on the field. The soccer pitch was 120x60, which made playing wide very difficult. During the game I also met K.C. McElroy, who has also done some writing as well for a-league.com, as well as some of the other Riverhounds fans who have followed the team as they have moved from the A-League to the PSL.
My destination this night was Virginia Beach, and what should have taken about seven hours took closer to nine as rain storms sprung up here and there along almost the entire route. For the first hundred miles or so I had to drive along the Pennsylvania Turnpike, well known as being one of the worst highways in the United States. It's narrow, bumpy, and always under construction. Where I-76 and I-70 split and I-70 goes down into Maryland, a brilliant engineer must have come up with an idea for the interchange that must have pleased the local business community: You have to go through several stop lights and past several businesses to get from one to the other, and idea which may be frustrating for the traveler, but I'm sure makes the businesses happy.
Strange things to see on the "on-ramp" from one Interstate highway to another (I-76, I-70 interchange, Breezewood, PA)
One of the frequent storms on this day, this one the worst, near Williamsburg, VA
I arrived in Virginia Beach about an hour before the 6pm game and went directly to the stadium. Once again, I couldn't find anybody in the press box whose name I recognized, and whenever I was up there, I kept being asked who I was and if I needed anything. Eventually I did exactly what I did last year, found the Richmond Corner Kicks support group and sat with them. The members of the group are becoming very familiar with me, as I have been to five Kickers matches in the past two years, and originally met most of them at the 2002 Championship game in Milwaukee. I seem to have become an honorary member of the Corner Kicks, so I was more than happy to sit with them for most of the match. I only wish I had brought my Kickers scarf with me.
As it happened, my internet connection that night was less than stable so I was more than happy to crash early.
My destination for this evening was Atlantic Beach, NC, but I was going to take a slightly round-about route, down the Outer Banks of North Carolina.
My favorite bumper sticker from my trip so far (Kitty Hawk, NC)
Do I really need to make a joke here? I think this one would be obvious (Kill Devil Hills, NC)
The Oregon Inlet used to just be another inlet, now it means "home"
This parking lot at Cape Hatteras Motel used to be the tennis court I played on when on vacation (Buxton, NC)
I used to go to the Outer Banks every year with my family when I used to live in Maryland, but had not been there since the early 90's. Much has changed on the Outer Banks, as an area where you'd never see a McDonald's or Food Lion in the 70's and 80's has become overrun with all of the markings of a standard, generic, soulless resort area. Once I got down further into the Cape Hatteras National Seashore, it wasn't nearly as bad, but much has changed down there too..
.. including the location of the famous Cape Hatteras lighthouse. It's a pretty weird sight when a marker such as a lighthouse which used to be one place, and was all your life, is someplace else. But in 1999, with the ocean getting ready to creep up and threaten the lighthouse, they moved in half a mile to it's new location, and for the first time in probably twenty years, I climbed the 268 steps to the top. It sure seemed a lot further to the top than I remembered… and when I reached the top, I figured I knew what Portland's Scott Benedetti (who is 37 like myself) must feel like by halftime. :)
The route of the move is obvious from the top of the Cape Hatteras lighthouse
The Cape Hatteras lighthouse
If you want to go any further south from Hatteras, NC, you need to take the free 40 minute ferry over to Ocracoke Island, which is a long, narrow island that is only accessable by ferry. I had been to Ocracoke before, and it always reminded me of a small, New England town when I was there in the 70's and 80's. Now that I have been to New England, I can confirm that yes, that's exactly what it looks like. A white lighthouse overlooks downtown of the small town, which snuggles around a small harbor famous for being a where Blackbeard was supposedly killed. I didn't have much time to stroll around as I had a spot on the 6:00 ferry to the mainland, a 2 ˝ hour trip that would be the longest ferry ride I have been on to this point.
Ocracoke, NC from the ferry as we left the harbor
My remote office, where I wrote my travelogue on this day
Unknown to the kids in this picture, most of the bread crumbs they were throwing ended up bombarding the long line of Harleys that were lined up against the railing
Hmm, something tells me they don't want us going in these doors or up the stairs, but it's so subtle, I can't be sure..
A beautiful sunset as we approached Cedar Island, NC
The ferry boat is actually pretty nice, with video games, vending machines, padded seats, and booths in the air conditioned lounge, as well as a sun deck above. It also gave your friendly a-league.com reporter a place to sit at one of the booths and catch up on her travelogue, which is exactly what I am doing at the moment. A 360 degree scan reveals no land in sight, we must be near the center of the sound, though we could almost be in the middle of the ocean because there is NOTHING except for some gulls and a few bouys. And a Toshiba laptop.
I spent the day in Atlantic Beach, North Carolina. The beach was almost empty, which was very nice. It was a warm (85 degrees) and sunny day, so your Portland a-league.com reporter became a beach bum for awhile. I'm on vacation after all.. I'm allowed.
"Did we go out to a club last night?" "Uh, I don't remember" (Atlantic Beach, NC)
Looking east along the nearly empty beach (Atlantic Beach, NC)
Getting my feet wet, trying not to drop the camera into the surf (Atlantic Beach, NC)
A nice drive down the Carolina coast today. Myrtle Beach, South Carolina surprised me a bit, as it seems to be trying to become the entertainment capital of the southeast, with threatres and shows popping up everywhere. I had always thought of it as a beach resort, but the city appears ready to try to claim the title of Branson East.
Another bumper sticker I liked (Wilmington, NC)
Welcome to South Carolina! Well, um, maybe not.. (NC/SC border on US 17)
Today was the day of the big game in Charleston, and having done my sightseeing in Charleston during the past two trips here, I stayed close to the hotel on this day. I had lunch at the Queen Anne's Revenge restaurant, which is right next to Hampton Inn, which is the team hotel, but did not see anybody I recognized there. The weather was threatening all day long, and two hours before game time, a light rain was falling.
At 6:30 I headed over to the stadium, and shortly after arriving, I met up with the five Timbers fans who had made the trip from Portland. We kicked the soccer ball I had brought around the parking lot, and I had soccer tunes blaring from the CD player in my rental car as we got ready for the big game. At 7:00 Buck showed up, so I went to greet him, and being our gracious host for this match, he had tickets and pub passes for all the Timbers fans in attendance. Just before we were to head into the stadium our last two Timbers fans from Philadelphia showed up, so the eight of us made our way into the stadium.
A few of our supporters went to scope out a spot in the stands, but the rest of us went up into The Three Lions, which of course I had been to twice before, but this was their first time, and like me eleven months before, their jaws drop when they see the pub firsthand. There is nothing like it in the A-League, or probably anywhere else. It's a place where soccer goes from being a sport to a religion.. this is the holy church where soccer rules the mind and spirit.. and we proudly brought our smaller version of the Woodshed into this environment.
The Timbers Army has invaded The Three Lions
The Timbers Army scarf I gave to Buck last year still hangs in his box at Blackbaud Stadium
Some of the Timbers fans survey the pitch before the match
The Timbers Army greets Portland radio announcer Andy McNamara
After a quick talk with Battery radio announcer and PR person Andrew Bell, we found a table (the same table where I have sat each time there) and found our way to the buffet. We ran into various Battery fans, Amanda Miller (sideline reporter and USL press person) and even spotted Bill Fetty and his wife hanging around. Introductions were made as we were all getting hyped up for the match, and before heading down to the pitch we all visited Buck's box upstairs, then dropped in on Timbers radio announcer Andy McNamara before finding our way down to the bleacher section behind the north goal. We shared the section with the Battery supporters, who attempted to keep up with our loud chants and song with their drums and cowbell. It made for a spirited evening at the north end of the pitch.
As has been well documented elsewhere, the Timbers took an early lead and the Battery evened before halftime. All throughout the game, it seemed that the Timbers could not look at the ball the wrong way without getting foul, and every 50-50 ball had the referee blowing his whistle and pointing towards the Timbers goal. Then 15 minutes into the second half, the referee sent the Timbers Army into shock with what may be the weakest red in the history of the A-League, on Portland's Byron Alvarez, and the Timbers had to fight off the Battery attack for the rest of the match as they attempted to preserve the draw.
But then, as inexplicable as the first 92 minutes had been with 92 minutes of "home cooking", the referee decided to try to make up for it all by awarding a highly questionable penalty kick for the Timbers on a foul that just doesn't normally send the ball to the spot. But in the state that the Timbers Army was in, frustrated over the red card and the almost constant string of whistles against the Timbers, we graciously accepted the gift as Alex Bengard stepped up and buried it into the top left corner. So with the spirit of the "two (or more) wrongs make a right", the referee had decided the game in the end, and the Timbers emerged with a huge 2-1 on national TV, and we Timbers fans were happy to bitch about the refereeing in the pub afterwards, which we had to remind them was quite favorable to the Battery up to that point, and in the end nobody seemed very happy, but a W is a W and we knew that tomorrow was going to be a tall order in Atlanta, with the already shorthanded Timbers to be without Byron's services.
The drive to Atlanta would be five hours, but if it was anything like last year, when an incredibly strong storm system had slowed traffic to a stop, I better allow myself a little extra time. In the end, it was a good thing I did so.
The drive from Charleston to Atlanta is indeed about five hours: up I-26 to Columbia then west on I-20. I found the gas station where I had bunkered down during the torrential thunderstorm the previous year, this year looking more subdued in the 90+ degree heat. In Augusta, Georgia, I saw the cheapest gasoline I had seen on this trip, at $1.77. It was a far cry from the $2.69 I saw in Montreal, and the $2.20 that still exists in Portland.
The gas station where I waited out the storm last year (Aiken, SC)
Just west of Augusta, along I-20, suddenly the traffic slowed to a stop, and large billows of smoke up ahead indicated something was seriously wrong. As I approached it, very slowly as traffic was being narrowed to one lane, then onto the median itself, my first thought was that a plane had crashed. There were trees and grass that had clearly burned on both sides of the freeway, but oddly enough, not in the median. I then thought it was just a bad brush fire until I saw a tractor trailer on the right shoulder, it's cabin completely burned away and it's trailer badly burned. The damage to the truck had been bad enough that the front end of the truck had melted and fallen to the ground. It was one of the worst freeway fires I had ever seen, but amazingly enough, I have searched the internet and have found no reference to this accident that took place just east of exit 165. I can only assume that the driver of the truck emerged uninjured since it didn't seem to make the news. But it was a horrifying sight for all of the drivers who passed it this Saturday afternoon.
Something was clearly wrong up ahead (near Camak, GA)
I can only hope the driver somehow got out of this fire
I arrived in Atlanta about an hour before game time, and in a stark contrast to last year, found my press pass waiting for me! Thanks to Kris Johnson, who gave me my pass personally and helped the process go smoothly this year, and John Spear, who I had seen in March along with Kris when I took a tour of the stadium, who also greeted me on this day.
After another harrowing climb up into the press box, I greeted Andy McNamara again and we talked about the previous evening, and about the Timbers coming into this game with only 14 players after having lost Byron Alvarez to the red the previous evening, and Shawn Saunders out injured. Eventually I wandered back down the concourse and met up with the other Timbers fans.
Andy McNamara gets read in the Atlanta press box
The Atlanta press box, maybe the most harrowing climb in all of the A-League
We staked out a spot near the northwest corner of the pitch (a perfect spot for we fans from the NW), and for awhile it looked like the tired Timbers would pull this one out, as they held leads of 1-0, 2-1, and 3-2, but in the end they were no match for Atlanta's firepower, and we walked out disappointed by a 4-3 loss to the Silverbacks.
Beaver Run I have heard of, but Beaver Ruin? (North of Atlanta, GA)
I said my goodbyes to the other Timbers fans and drove two hours up I-85 to Greenville, where I put together my match report and then collapsed exhausted. These vacations sure do take a lot out of me.
It was back up to Raleigh today to catch my 5:15pm flight. But a surprise awaited me as I had forgotten about my Gerber Multi-purpose tool that was packed in my camera back. So I was stopped at security and told I could take it back to the ticket counter to be put in my bag, dropped into a mailer and mailed (cost $7), or surrendered. The people at the ticket counter could not locate my bag (something that would become very apparent hours later), so into the mailer it went.
After a connection in Chicago, the four hour second leg to Portland put me into another (though less severe) bout with claustrophobia, but by 10:30 I was on the ground in Portland, safe and sound.
But unfortunately, my bags were not. My bags (both of them) had missed my connection, and I was told there were coming in on the 12:25 flight. So instead of waiting for them to be delivered the next morning, I spent the last two hours of my vacation at Portland International Airport waiting for my bags, which fortunately did show up at 12:25 as I was told they would.
Back home at last.
