Saturday, February 10, 2018

And Station Signing Back On...With Ground Rules & Caveats

Why'd they spotlight his fucking feet?
I write this in the spirit of “Good night, Westley. Good work. Sleep well. I'll most likely kill you in the morning.”

Earlier this week, a handful of people who used to follow this site reached out to inquire as to my health. And, was doing anything worthwhile these days? Maybe sending cars beyond the stratosphere (as god intended, when he made us in His image), or maybe writing about soccer, or something…

They could not have known of my tender vulnerability to such suggestions. They might have picked up on (profound, raging) disenchantment in my personal politics, subtle hints that I’d rather eat my own fucking legs than try to explain/make peace with well and thorough fuckedness of the world at large (“fuckedness” is so a word; hold on, “fuck’dness”? No?). They could not, however, have known that I have, of late, quietly started to peak at soccer content again for the first time in months. I have kicked around the idea since then, consulting my schedule, seeing which projects I can set free (to die in the woods, obvs) and which I can’t…the latter category being full of surprisingly stubborn motherfuckers, not even one of them willing to go without a fight.

Finally, however, after serious and sober deliberation (not kidding on that second adjective) about reviving this project I landed on the only answer I could: I can’t. Not that I won’t, but that I can’t. Conifers & Citrus can never be what it was, because I’m not who I was. I am an older, much sleepier version of me.

And that’s the guy that will start posting to this space again. For as long as he can, anyway. Let me explain…

Tuesday, August 8, 2017

This Station Signing Off: Well, There It Is

Brought garlic, a stake, a silver bullet, a nuclear weapon...
I’m hereby shutting down Conifers & Citrus. You see, I’ve got this other, much less-trafficked side project going on, so…

Yes, I kill blogs, literally, like they kill Jason or bankable stars on soap operas, but, in all honesty, this time feels different. I haven’t plowed through the all condensed games since well before the Gold Cup; haven’t listened to even one soccer podcast since, oh, March; and I stop reading halfway through the one or two articles I start each week. I sometimes sit through that show with Caleb Carr and Susannah Collins and…I don’t know, something about that feels sorta fucked up.

Anyway, yeah, broadly I’ve stopped giving a shit.

I’ll still watch some games, but I'll do it on my time and without talking about it - e.g., like a normal person. The desire to pick apart, joke about, or speculate on what I’m seeing snuck out the back door without so much as a goodbye (silent, deadly, and lightly tragic). I think I just ran out of new things to say. Just under a week ago, I was telling this guy that I know as much as I’ll ever know about soccer, like, right now, and, seeing as I’ve got no more interest in learning more, well, there it is. I tried to read a book on tactics once. I fell asleep looking at the cover.

For what it’s worth, I don’t think I ever brought anything more to the table than breadth. Watching the rest of Major League Soccer let me measure Portland against the rest of the league, to see what they had and that we didn’t. (And who noticed how rarely I used the word “we” in the posts? Never felt right, that’s why.) Take away that context, and I’m just another half-educated twit watching one team play a succession of other teams that I basically know nothing about. Without the other teams' “status” for reference, about the only way I could say anything truly novel would be if I watched games closely enough to the flag in-game tactical adjustments. Because I’ve never been able to spot that kind of thing in 20+ years of trying, well, there it is.

As recently as Sunday, I thought I’d gut it out the rest of the year, but, looking at what I’ve posted lately (actually, couldn’t be moved to do even that), I didn’t see the point. So, yeah, traffic’s slow, grill’s turned off, and both cooks have already started drinking. The shop’s closing early.

I’ll be adjusting my social media presence, replacing the “Conifers & Citrus” name on my twitter handle with something else, etc. (that “etc.” also includes blocking the 100+ porn bots that follow my twitter). I’ll direct things to the other site (A Project of Self Indulgence), going forward and shifting that will probably take a couple days, just so I can keep anyone who cares current. Keep following what I’m doing if you want to, but don’t feel obliged. It’ll be some mixture of politics, culture and music, and…something else. I’m still wrestling with what I want to fill the balance my idle hours.

God willing I’ll make it something productive. Then again, God’s dead, last I heard.

Thanks to anyone who ever read this – and a sincere THANK YOU to anyone who ever read this site regularly, or even told me they appreciated my writing. You never really know if anyone is happily receiving the transmission till that someone tells you, and getting positive feedback truly does wonders for overcoming writer's block. I’ve made acquaintance with a lot of good people doing this, and have actually met and got to know more than a few solid citizens. As much as I want to list a bunch of names and give everyone his/her due, I know it’d end in some boilingly misguided attempt to be acknowledge everyone, only to inevitably leave off someone both deserving and important, and they’d feel like shit, and I’ll feel dumb and like shit, and so on. With that, I think the only person I can properly acknowledge would be (to use his twitter handle) @shotboxer, aka, the human gateway drug, through whom I got to meet and talk to many, many good, smart and interesting people. I hope I run into some of you again, and not too many days from now.

It’s been fun, honest. Trouble is, it stopped being fun. And, well, there it is.

Oh, and if I told you the number of posts on this site that I’ve written blacked out, you wouldn’t believe me. And I’ll confirm neither numbers, nor percentages.

Monday, August 7, 2017

Portland Timbers 3-1 Los Angeles Galaxy: Rich Kids Slumming

Looking for LA in their current home...
So, how much did your stomach sink when the Los Angeles Galaxy equalized within minutes (a minute?) of the Portland Timbers early goal in yesterday’s early morning game? Per the cliché, all’s well that ends well, but not even having enough time to tweet out a caveat fantor (not actual Latin) did leave me wondering today about the thickness of Portland’s glass jaw.

Fortunately, the Galaxy, who have been shit lately, continued to muck around their Personal Hell Sewer (TM). By game’s end, they could barely play out of their own half, never mind out of pressure. They got buried time and again in their left defensive corner; the Timbers’ pressure didn’t even need to be thorough to throw off LA; the mere sight of an opposite colored shirt saw LA give away the ball.

I set out, here, with an effort to not roll into one of those posts, one where I shit on the parade and then walk before it in unembarrassed nudity. No self-flagellation is in order because, bad as the trends have been for LA (0-6-1 in their last 7; e.g., bad), Portland had a couple bad habits to shake off as well – e.g., no wins at home since June (are you fucking kidding me?), and with a mental meltdown shit-show home loss to Real Salt Lake in that same wretched mix. Still, the Timbers did win today, cruising to a 3-1, and that’s what they needed and what we wanted, etc. But, guys, c’mon. Playing a train-wreck of a team at home? I mean, what’s the likeliest thing to happen? (Psst…LA loses. And suck it.)

History aside, though, this game will probably always be about VAR…whatever the fuck that stands for. (What? How many acronyms do you rattle off every day without knowing the root words?). As anyone who watched the game knows, the Galaxy had a Gyasi Zardes goal called back – and correctly – but I’ll be damned along with a school of the most wholesome nuns if I ever would have spotted that infringement in real time. Hell, it took many, many slow-mo replays for the commentating crew to catch the actual infringement (Zardes’ goal-hungry hands getting in front of his head (why, kid, why?) on the way to knocking the ball down to his feet to poke home.)

Monday, July 31, 2017

Houston Dynamo 2-2 Portland Timbers: An Unwelcome Comparison

Also, these get fucked up real fast.

A couple, three weeks back, I posted a poll on twitter that gave a quartet of projected overall records (e.g., 6-5-3, 4-7-3, 8-2-4, etc.) with which the Portland Timbers would see out the 2017 season. I don’t remember the exact numbers (and that tweet lies buried beneath an avalanche of anti-Trumpublican venting), but I landed on each of those projections by going through the rest of Portland’s schedule and divining results based on the opposition, the venue for each game, and some vague potential plotlines for each opposing team going forward. I felt like science, people (if only social science).

How’d I do so far? I had the home game against Real Salt Lake carved in stone as an easy Portland win (violently nope!), and yesterday’s draw against the Houston Dynamo as a certain loss – both of those across all scenarios. As for the road win against the Vancouver Whitecaps, I put that down as either a loss or a draw, so…yeah, fucking psychic over here. If anyone out there wants help picking the ponies, I offer reasonable hourly rates. (A friend helpfully pointed out that I got the total number of points over the past three games right at least – four points out of nine.)

If I sound less confident than I used to over the past couple seasons about what’s happening with the Timbers, I guess my rebuttal is, can you blame me? If this team played soccer like it thwarts expectations, they’d win the triple every year.

As for yesterday, the best excuse I can offer for a bogus (and silent) “Lock of the Week” prediction was that the Dynamo team I expected didn’t show up. Part of that had to do with the twin Honduran terrors – Alberth Elis and Romell Quioto – starting the game on the bench. Portland countered with a line-up close enough to its starting eleven – and that’s even with Lawrence Olum starting in central defense (more later), and Darlington Nagbe and Sebastian Blanco starting on, at least what I assumed were the opposite of their usual assignments in the 4-2-3-1.

The Timbers opened the game strong (literally; just re-watched the condensed game and the team held possession through Nagbe’s opening shot inside the first minute), and they continued to find one another in space all the way to Diego Valeri’s opening goal. Some bad defending provided either the secondary or primary assist (Zarek Valentin fed Valeri, but, holy shit, did Leonardo make at least one terrible decision in playing that pass), but the Timbers earned that one. The team looked comfortable most of the evening, especially on the ball; the passing was respectably crisp and all concerned looked lively in spite of Houston’s sticky East Texas heat.

Monday, July 24, 2017

Vancouver Whitecaps 1-2 Portland Timbers: On Trade-Offs and...Just Noted...

Found this searching "terrible mom." And, well, I'm not NOT listening...
I’m going to start by saying that the natural, obstructed lighting at BC Place drives me fucking nuts. Players slipping in out of shadows like ninjas should be cool, but it’s not.

Turning to other mysteries, the central mystery, in fact, is what to make of the Portland Timbers' 1-2 road-theft at the Vancouver Whitecaps. And this mystery comes with a body too – last week’s bender/collapse against Real Salt Lake – and that adds a bit o’ juice. If only we had a nun outfit…

To slip into that nun outfit, maybe take a twirl in front of the mirror, maybe the Timbers fell victim to an RSL team that stepped out of the right self-help seminar (or Mike Petke gave them super-soldier drugs; or cocaine; maybe those are two words for the same thing, I do not know; I’m just not sold that the “dogs” speech saved their season). Look on either side of RSL’s win over Portland, you’ll see a great result on one side and a strong performance on the other.

As observed in my notes on the dissection of said body, I listed the several ways Portland came to the party light (e.g., the key (hmm….) missing players (more later)). The same applied, however, when the Timbers stormed over the northern border; the team had a couple different players missing – say, Diego Chara, present, Fanendo Adi, absent/presumably forced by Caleb Porter to don a dunce cap from the starting whistle to the final one while he sat this out. Still, the same rough team that, from the moment Kyle Beckerman stuffed Portland in the hole, got utterly overrun/badgered to madness for the rest of the match last week. Largely present, accounted for, and eager to improve.

One final piece of data: the seven points RSL picked up over their past three games accounts for over a quarter their total points for the season (that's of 24 points total). And while, no, Vancouver hasn’t blinded anyone with its play this 2017, they’ve been better all season than RSL; plus, they had the Timbers at BC Place – again, that same Timbers team that…well, just hasn’t been the guys we met at the start of this process (by which I mean just this season; Bachelor/Bachelorette reference?). Or, more bluntly, that’s Portland’s first win in six, so what the fuck happened and what does it mean?

Thursday, July 20, 2017

Portland Timbers 1-4 Real Salt Lake: #Shook

My disappointment, shown to scale.
Where do I begin? To tell the story the story of how great a love can be?

Only it wasn’t. Damn, damn, blast and dammit. (Shit, gimme the reference?!)

I smiled through a lot of losses for the Portland Timbers in 2016, we all did.  They did, too, and, trust me, it was much, much, much worse for them. Still, we felt less than optimal and, well, noted. Look, we have a right to our feelings, too. We do. Shut up.

At any rate, tonight’s loss to Real Salt Lake, 4-to-a-participation-ribbon-1, and at home, well, that poses questions. Several of them, in fact. Fans, or at least me as a singular person among them, looked at what the Timbers did in the off-season and, broadly, it made sense. Or sense enough. And, yes, one of the things the Timbers did this off-season – let’s just call him David Guzman - was, in fact, gone tonight (there were other things, however, who were present). So was Diego Chara. So was Darlington Nagbe, Liam Ridgewell. Uh, Alvas Powell…hmm, is that everyone? Is it ballpark? If so, isn’t that good enough.

And, honestly, sorry for all the commas. Jesus Christ, mugged by caveats.

Still, the team had Sebastian Blanco and Diego Valeri and Fanendo Adi, plus the team started the shiny new bauble fans have bayed for all season long, new centerback, Larrys Mabiala. The Timbers had enough of the players who carried them to a slightly positive record (7-7-6 record, with a +3 goal differential) that the omens didn’t spell “holy shit” in blood on the walls.

Wednesday, July 5, 2017

Portland Timbers 2-2 Chicago Fire: On a Good, Irrelevant Threat

What we can do. You've been warned. Also...please don't fight back...
I want this to be brief. That is my intent. We’ll see how I do. Also, how are you?

As for me, I’m good. Between excitement and information, that game left me feeling like part three in menage a trois. A good menage a trois (also, never…have…never mind). Some of what the Portland Timbers did in that game (what game? Shit, spaced the lead again...sorry! Portland drew the Chicago Fire at home 2-2), felt like a long walk on the sunny side of the street. The ball movement by individual Timbers midfielders – whether first touch or sharp-to-inspired passing – was league-beating, and for long stretches. Diego Valeri and Sebastian Blanco, especially, have arrived at a plane where it looks as if they hear the echo of the other player calling for the ball in practice and, from there, they just respond to the muscle memory. Those two, along with Fanendo Adi, Dairon Asprilla, and Vytas Andriuskevicius, and, sometimes, Darlington Nagbe, (fuck it, obligatory “fire” metaphor) blew Chicago’s ashes apart (I am so sorry).

All true, but all that ran out sometime between the 70th and 75th minute – or the 75th and 80th minute – I’m working without notes tonight (and video; ‘bout time) – I could have been 65th to 70th for all I know, but, the free-flowing stuff died a quick death, even if it wasn't early. Part of that came with Chicago’s decision to pack it in – something they did by pulling Luis Solignac for Jonathan Campbell (decent young CB; just noted) – but it truly did look like more than that. For one, if you re-watch the tape, and if you’re seeing what I saw, you’ll see Nagbe and Blanco dropping to the top of the attacking third, and further by that time, but also basically stop running, and letting Ben Zemanski step to the fore to see what he could…it wasn’t that bad, honest; seriously, the Timbers scrapped to the death and that’s like half, I think, of what I want to see, because wins are OK, but sucky wins are depressing, just like most goal-less draws, just noting it. Moreover, their passes, Nagbe’s and Blanco’s I mean, along with just about everyone else’s, got sloppy as hell, especially between the 70th and 85th. Portland ran their damn legs off, basically, even they did it in something valiant, determined. So long as Chicago stayed vertical defensively, and so long as the Timbers’ collective legs held out, Portland shredded the Fire like confetti. I haven’t checked the boxscore yet, but I’d be shocked it if showed anything but dominance for Portland (UPDATE: Yep, it did.)

Counterpoint: The Timbers first team can do that, but what do they do when Plan A doesn’t come off - or, as happened today, if Plan A runs itself legless? Or what happens when a crucial piece - Adi, likely, just sayin’ – falls out of the picture in the future…if that’s not something you want to contemplate, I totally get it.