I am sitting in my hotel room in Overland Park, Kansas. We got here Friday night, and it’s now Sunday night. The Heat are clobbering the Magic, and we are out of the tournament, save a 7am friendly match tomorrow morning, thanks to three losses in three matches.
I have concluded that I don’t like Kansas very much. Our hotel while fancy has done little, but piss me off from the first night. It is isolated and charges for wi fi service. It is populated by the state GOP convention which means sharing an elevator at 7am on my way to the treadmill with a group of suit wearing, glad-handing and pretensious politicos. I am eager to get back to my beloved Florida.
The competition as alluded to earlier has gone badly. It didn’t start that way, and that probably makes the experience all the more exasperating. In our opening match, Bryson score two goals and assisted a third as we led 3-0 in fifteen minutes. All seemed possible. We conceded two goals before half, and two more shortly after. We mustered a nice team goal to tie the game at 4, but collapsed like the French Army losing 9-4.
Game two started much like the final minutes of game one and we trailed 2-0 at the half. Through some good fortune and gutty play we tied the game at 4 with five minutes to play, but conceded a goal to lose 5-4. The loss mathematically eliminated us from the tournament, but we still had one more group match this morning.
We reached a new low in a 16-2 battering. I have never favored a mercy rule, whereby the game is terminated when the leading team reaches a certain margin, but I would have had no complaint if they stopped this game.
Perhaps after some soul-searching McDonald’s and a trip to the bar, I might muster some enthusiasm for tomorrow morning’s match, but that’s uncertain. For now, we have been weighed, measured and found wanting.
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