Nikki and I went to the Houston Dynamo vs. FC Dallas MLS play off game last night. This was the second leg of the first round of the play-offs and the last game of the 5 game mini season ticket we bought this year.
There have been two previous eras of football spectating in my life. The live football of my youth was the Lewis amateur league, played in the summer. Nice warm evenings, fun games, plenty of trophies for the good guys. In my late teens and early twenties live football meant Aberdeen in the SPL, August to May. Cold winter afternoons, bitter evenings and a period of football that if not the worst in the club's history, is certainly a contender for the crown.
The Houston games we attended brought back memories of my younger days, which is maybe why I felt less passion at them than I used to watching Aberdeen go down 1-0 to St. Johnstone on a cold February Saturday. I enjoyed the games, but I wouldn't get too upset by a defeat. Last night, something changed. Houston were trailing 1-0 from the first leg and despite dominating the first half, Dallas scored with their only shot to send Houston in 2-0 down on aggregate at half time. Where I had found their diving, fouling, time-wasting and play-acting disgusting before they went in front, their despicable behavior then rose to levels that would have their city's most famous son, J.R. Ewing, blush.
If Houston had gone out in that fashion, to those scum, I would have been upset. I would have been angry. I would have got very, very drunk. Karma prevailed. Dallas had a man sent off in the second half, for kneeing a Houston player in the groin for no reason, then Houston scored two to push the game to extra time. (There's no away goals rule). Houston added another two in extra time, Dallas added another sending-off to go with their 7 yellow cards and the good, honorable men of Houston emerged victorious from a bruising encounter with the despicable morons the city to the North has chosen to represent them.
I believe I may be a fan.