"Guys, relax. Be patient." - The Ref
Last Friday night, we played our final game of the winter season on a shitty turf field in North Van. The field was surrounded by forest, and the sounds of the river could be heard while staring at the Coastal Mountains from the halfway line. A timid, sideways drizzle showered down harmlessly.
Hardly the tense setting for the drama that was about to unfold.
We have to win
Sitting in first place, we need a win against TAK to likely secure a promotion to Division 2 next year. TAK are bottom of the heap in the other division, so we're pretty confident that it should be a cakewalk.
But things don't start off well. The turf field is too big and waaaay too bouncy. Controlling the ball is difficult and the ball never stays on the ground long enough to string a few passes together. These conditions almost inevitably result in a poor game lacking in flow. Tonight is no exception.
But these guys are last place!
With the season on the line, things get tenser and tenser as the game progresses. The other team is less skilled than us, but they're clearly more comfortable on their home field. They also prove to be expert time wasters, subbing at every stop in play and taking their sweet time whenever possible. Frustration mounts.
It doesn't help that the referee, who knows our team well, doesn't seem concerned about their obvious ploys to waste time. He keeps telling us to relax and be patient while chatting and joking around with the opposition. More and more, it feel like one of those nights when things are destined to go wrong.
Confirmation comes just before the half when a shot right at our normally reliable goalkeeper slips through his hands and bulges into the net. It cancels out our first goal and we walk off the field at halftime tied 1-1.
We try to stay positive, but clearly things are not going well. If we lose, we can kiss any chance of promotion goodbye.
From bad to worse
Sure enough, disaster strikes at the onset of the second half. A questionable foul is called at the edge of our area. As soon as their player strikes the ball, Hugh, who is standing beside me in the wall, mutters, "Oh no". We both knew it was in from the moment he hit it. Our backs are now against the wall as we need two goals at the very least.
Though panic starts to set in, to our credit, we don't lose heart and keep pressing. We're almost rewarded for our efforts when Hugh hits the left post, and then just moments later, a second shot is deflected onto the right post. Later, I have a great chance myself, hitting the ball sweetly. It's aimed right for the bottom corner of the net and looks to be a goal, but their octogenarian keeper somehow manages to get his fingertips on the ball and deflects it just wide.
Ok, it's really starting to feel like one of those nights.
Finally a bit of luck
At last, the tide finally turns our way. First, we're awarded a penalty shot, which we score, and then a foul around the edge of their box gives us another dangerous chance. Under pressure, Donny steps up and delivers the perfect shot right off the post and in to give us the lead with about 10 minutes to go. We celebrate wildly, and then get ready to defend for our lives.
Not so fast
But how quickly one can go from hero to zero. When a throw in lands inside our box, Donny, trying to intercept the ball, misreads the bounces and it goes right off his arm for a blatant hand ball. The ref has no choice but to point to the penalty spot. They score. With just a precious few minutes left in the game and the game tied at three, our dreams of playing up a division are evaporating quickly.
During the final few moments, we push with urgency, but without results. There are just a few seconds left and it's looking grim until an innocuous looking tackle with their player near our own 18 yard line results in the miracle: The ball ricochets off a leg and spins perfectly between their two center backs and right into Hugh's path for a breakaway. I couldn't have passed a better through ball with all the time in the world. Their goalie comes out to challenge but Hugh gets there first and makes no mistake slotting home. Our season is saved! We go bananas!
And... breathe
The ref blows the final whistle moments later and we collectively breathe a sigh of relief. We did it. Barely.
Hey guys, I have a confession to make
After the game, the ref comes over to talk to us. "I didn't want to tell you guys until after the game, but they had at least three illegal players.", he says chuckling to himself. What!? You mean, we would have won the game regardless of the result? "Oh come on guys, a little suffering is good for you", he adds.
Of course there was lots of talk about the ref's morals during the post-game beer. "How could he not tell us? No wonder he kept telling us to relax".
In the end, I think he was right not to tell us. If we had known beforehand, we surely would have taken it easy and the game would have been awful. Plus, we wouldn't have experienced all of the drama, or suffering, as the ref called it. Though I wouldn't characterize it as enjoyable, it was far from dull! Why not add a little excitement to your life whenever you can?
It was an odd end to a great season for the Burnaby Wolves. Arooooooooooooo!
