With two more games remaining in the season, and our fate already sealed, there is not much to be said about our year. We started out on the wrong foot and were never able to put the other one down and right the wrongs. Now, there are many reasons why this happened -- some of which I have written about over the past several months and others that I will not reveal.
The only thing that you can do in a situation like this is be as proactive as possible. Since Richie Williams took the helm six games ago, we have gone 2-2-2 while giving up only six goals, which was among the fewest in the league in that span. Not bad considering we managed only two wins in the previous 22 games.
The biggest difference has been the accountability that we have been held to, especially with team defense. A lot of times in the beginning of the season, it seemed like we had two teams on the field. Half of us played defense while the other half attacked. Over the past two months, we have turned that habit around and it has shown.
It is important that we get the most out of our last two games for a variety of reasons. With the playoffs out of the picture for us, it is vital that we start to prepare for next season, when we open up our brand new stadium, Red Bull Arena. I wish I had more to write about on the soccer end, but it has certainly been an uneventful year. Next season I plan on filling these pages with story upon story of how it feels to be in first place. Now that's proactive.
For those of you who read my blog a few months ago entitled "Seeing red with Elmo," you already know how I feel about Elmo. Well I finally had my chance to seek my revenge, and I seized the moment.
We threw a joint birthday party for my 5- and 2-year-old boys. Nothing crazy. Just 25 sugared-up psychos running around my yard for three hours while their parents sat inside and devoured my liquor cabinet like a young Petke on Prom Night.
The party had two themes going: For the 5-year-old it was "Pirates of the Caribbean"; for the 2-year-old it was -- wouldn't you know it -- Elmo. I swear my wife loves to irritate me. Now you should know that my role in planning this party was minimal because, um, how should I put this I'm a guy. I have learned over eight wonderful years of marriage that whenever your wife asks your opinion about home decor, what you would like to do on your day off and especially planning a birthday party for your kids, she is just being courteous. Your opinion matters not a bit in those subjects.
So as the sixth kid stepped out of the jump house with a bloody lip, my wife asked me to get the piņatas ready. So I hung the first one up for my 5-year-old, which was a pirate. All the kids lined up and smacked the crap out of it until it bled candy, then they proceeded to perform MMA moves on each other in order to get the most candy (three more bloody lips, by the way). Then it was time to hang the 2-year-old's up and repeat the process. I obviously knew what it would be, but as I reached into the bag and pulled out the piņata, I was overjoyed when it was -- wouldn't you know -- Elmo. As I yanked the stick out of the hands of my youngest and gently shoved him aside, I was excited. I gripped the bat like A-Rod and prepared to seek revenge. When my wife intervened and pried the bat from my grip, I thought my dream was crushed. But after five minutes of 2-year-olds hitting Elmo with the force of a finger-flick, my wife gave me the nod, and I tore his red head right off his shoulders and dumped the candy out with a smile on my face.
Vengeance is a beautiful thing.
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