#Deulo-Douelo-Doleo...argh I lost it

[benjaminsblog]

D.I.S.M. (pt. 3)

2015: American Footbawl in New York

I went on a long-weekend-jaunt to NY with Josh - final year of my degree be damned - and while it turned out to be a pretty magical 24 hours of sport, the headline act was getting to experience my first NFL game in the flesh! In between waking up early to see Andy Murray (that man again) win the Davis Cup for Great Britain and watching my Broncos beat the Patriots in the late game on TV, we skipped states and travelled to Metlife Stadium, which is home to both the NY teams despite being situated in New Jersey. In fact, our seats were on the very top row, and when I looked directly behind me I could peer over the battlements to see the Big Apple in the distance.

It was the Jets’ turn to host a home game, and it was against a divisional rival, the Miami Dolphins. Now, when there’s a derby game back home, things get tense; insults are hurled every-which-way, you revel in your rivals’ misery almost as much as your own happiness, and in some cases you make sure there’s a police horse between you and them at all times. Happily, things weren’t so fraught in East Rutherford, with opposing fans jumbled together throughout the stadium and nothing more than good, solid banter between them; maybe it’s not the most heated rivalry in the league, or perhaps both teams’ lack of quality and general relevance had taken some heat out of the situation.

Whatever the reason, the relaxed atmosphere lent itself to a most enjoyable afternoon as Gang Green ended up winning handsomely, and the pyrotechnics department earned its paycheck. The crowd was in good form - aside from the wally next to us who insisted on repeatedly smacking his chair to add to the general din - and I admired the spirits of the girl sporting a Miami bobble hat a few rows in front of us; once the game was clearly over as a contest, most of the away fans started heading towards the exits (something our derbies have in common), but she stubbornly remained standing and loudly called out their lack of commitment, stating that they should always stay to the end - a sentiment I fully endorse - my admiration for her lessened a little when she and her friend did leave just before the very end!

2018: Blues bash Blackhawks

America does sport really well, just sayin’. During my visits to Missouri I was fortunate enough to see four humdingin’ hockey matches, and it was really tough deciding which one would be representin’ in the final 8. I’ve gone for the last one I saw, which happens to be another derby match - though this one had a bit more of the spice that I’m used to from my rivalries!

The St. Louis Blues played host to their bitter adversaries Chicago Blackhawks, who are based a short hop-skip-and-a-jump across the border in Illinois; whereas previous visits to Scottrade/Enterprise Center had been similar to the Jets-Dolphins game in terms of mood - i.e. relaxed, good-natured - as soon as the arena came into view I instantly knew that this was a different kettle of fish. Electricity was in the air, and the B*s fans were better-represented than other teams due to their proximity, but if anything it made the atmosphere all the more special.

One of the many reasons I warmed to the Blues is because of how much they reminded me of Arsenal! They have demonstrated the capacity to frustrate and amaze in equal measure - they can go AWOL for long periods, but on their day they are capable of turning on the style in devastating fashion. As fortune would have it, the boys in blue turned up, delivering a performance worthy of Arsenal’s greatest North London derbies, putting Chicago to the sword and running out worthy 7-3 winners.

For the icing on the cake I got to see my first hockey fight (which we also won resoundingly), which rounded off the night more perfectly than I could have possibly imagined. I augmented my position as StL sporting talisman by moving to a 5-0 record at live games, and although that was to be the last one, I continued to tune in to watch the Blues many more times that season, as they went from bottom-of-the-league to playoffs-bound, to the final itself, to finally lifting the franchise’s first Stanley Cup!

2019: Watford v Wolves and my Wembley debut

A few days into my new job as a sports graphics operator, I was sent to my first live event - an FA Cup semi-final at the home of football, no less! I was not yet ready to play an active part and only shadowed my colleagues, which allowed me more time to appreciate my special surroundings; the night before the game I got to wander out and gaze at the deserted stands and hallowed turf, and although my love for the ‘beautiful game’ has diminished greatly in recent years, I found myself utterly captivated.

And because I was essentially a spare wheel, I got to watch the whole game pretty-much uninterrupted and unencumbered, and it was a cracker. Wolves deservedly went 2-0 up, but super-sub Gerard Deulofeu (I always have to Google how to spell his bloody name) turned the game 180 degrees. The little Spaniard got Watford back into the match with a cheeky lobbed finish, before Troy Deeney smashed home a (questionable) penalty in the 4th minute of injury time to prolong the drama. Deulofeu ensured the headlines would be all his as he scored the winner in extra time to break Wolves hearts, putting the finishing touch on an FA Cup classic and my own dream debut!

2019: Kamaishi Recovery Memorial Stadium

The showstopping moment of the Rugby World Cup in Japan was unquestionably when my crew travelled to the Kamaishi Stadium, located in the remote city of the same name. It is an unusual spot for a sports ground, but that’s because it has an unusual reason for being there - as the focal point of a rebuild project following the devastation caused by the 2011 tsunami. The stadium itself is modest but its surroundings are truly spectacular; I walked around them in stunned disbelief, never quite believing such places existed without the aid of Photoshop, nor that a place as beautiful as this could be subjected to such unfathomable destruction.

The stadium’s inaugural match served up a fitting show, as Uruguay shocked Fiji in a topsy-turvy contest that had to wait until the very last kick to be decided. The Uruguayan underdogs played some lovely stuff whilst the fancied Fijians were sloppy, so both teams got their just rewards. To put the upset into perspective, this was only Uruguay’s third victory in RWC history and its first since 2003, so the team’s wild celebrations at the final whistle were well-earned.

Although a second match was slated to be played here, it was cancelled due to a typhoon. However, I actually think that in a way it made the stadium’s story a little neater - one great game successfully hosted, and another milestone achieved in the rebuild project. Sport doesn’t always give you the happy ending you’d hoped for, but a place like this deserved a great occasion, and I was so glad it got exactly that.

“Sport has the power to change the world. It has the power to inspire. It has the power to unite people in a way that little else does...sport can create hope where once there was only despair.” Nelson Mandela