This Sunday, our Villa return to action against Spurs. I’ll be at The Banshee with the Boston Villians. After the sporting week I have had, I am finding it a little difficult to get up for a match against a team we always seem to play our worst against.
Even lamenting another international break disruption the rhythm of of the club season, it’s hard to imagine anything living up to the last round of World Cup Qualifying. England, dare I say, almost looked like a dynamic side against Poland. Sure they were a little unsteady at the back, and playing that way against Germany or Spain might be ill advised, but the job was done and they didn’t back their way in either.
Speaking of backing in, let’s talk about Mexico. The final round of CONCACAF Qualifying has to be up there with the end of the Premier League season two years ago. The only people north of the Rio Grande or south of the Yucatan who wanted Mexico to survive World Cup Qualification were Mexican immigrants. As arrogant and distasteful as the Mexican team is, their fans are worse. These are people who boo The Star-Spangled Banner, chanted “Osama” in 2004, and throw bags of piss at our players.
All Mexico needed was a draw or better at Costa Rica to clinch at least a playoff against New Zealand. If the lost they still stood to advance unless Panama beat the US. As both Mexico and the US trailed late in their respective matches (Guzan was poor in spilling a cross on Panama’s 2nd) I rooted against my national team as hard as I ever rooted for them. Screaming “No!” as they grabbed a late equalizer is the most surreal experience I have ever had as a fan of sport.
I try to stay away from talking about character. As fans we almost never know what these men are really like. The USMNT has always felt like a high character group. Their effort in a meaningless game showed that.
Another team where character is driving the narrative are my beloved Boston Red Sox of Major League Baseball. The club is one win away from the World Series a year after they finished last and did it in the most self-destructive way possible. The Red Sox teams I grew up watching weren’t too far off from the Villa teams of the mid to late 1980s. When they turned things around it made things that much sweeter.
I think that’s a large reason why Villa found me. When we win, it means something. It means something more than the backslapping a Man United or Chelsea fan could understand. I don’t doubt they love their club, but it’s not the same. That’s probably why we all watch. It’s for the moments that are special. VTID.
The Author
