The game that would be king Part IV

“How fun is this?” I said to my wife. The blood nearly drained from her face, she acknowledged this was the most fun you could ever have for six dollars. There was a 5 minute break, and then both teams came out for the first overtime. In soccer they call it a “golden goal”, but I still prefer the universal “sudden death”. There would be a ten minute overtime with the first team to score being the winner.

Forty seconds into it, that winner was darn near Winter Park. In a flurry of activity in front of the net, Marcos Lado again got a fingertip on a ball to keep Lyman’s season alive. Four minutes into the OT, senior Lyman striker Marko Bilal took the game winning shot – or so it seemed – but it rattled hard off the right goal post and back into play. Not a minute later, Winter Park sent a high ball into Lyman’s goal mouth that bounced hard off the firm turf, struck the underside of the crossbar, and came back into the field of play without crossing the goal line. Those crossbars and posts are round, and so is the ball. It’s in the hands of the sporting deity’s which way a shot will carom after it hits. At this point in the match, it was impossible to tell which team destiny was favoring, as both had struck and come up empty. With only one or two minutes left in the first overtime, senior Lyman midfielder David Portella fired what looked to me and everyone in the stadium to be the winning goal. It was a blasted strike, heading straight towards the upper 90 (the corner of the post and crossbar that form a 90 degree angle). Incredibly, the Winter Park goal keeper sprung upward like a gazelle on steroids, and flicked the ball away with his gloved left hand. I remember screaming out loud how impressed I was with the save…disappointed, but impressed nonetheless. You can watch professional soccer on T.V. for the rest of your life, and you may see many saves just as good, but I guarantee you won’t see one better.

The second overtime wasn’t quite as dramatic. There were scoring chances for each team to be sure, but these boys had been going at it for 2 ½ hours now, full speed the whole time. You could see the kids suffering from cramps, exhaustion, and little nicks and bruises. There were players on both sides playing hurt, but in a game of this magnitude, competitors go with what they have and play through the pain. In a last second effort, Winter Park nearly scored with 4 seconds left, but Lado came through again.

We all knew at this point, the game would end soon. Per pre-established procedure, after the two teams play two overtimes without closure, they immediately go to penalty kicks, or PK’s as they are called. Each team will get five shots, alternated from team to team. The shots are taken from a spot centered approximately 12 yards from the goal line. One player – one keeper. The referee ensures both parties are ready, blows the whistle and the shooter makes his approach and fires away. By rule the keeper has to have both heels on the line and can’t move until the shooter starts his approach. For all intents and purposes, the keeper is dead in the water. He has to read the eyes of the shooter, make a guess as to which way he’s going, and then dive that way. Most times it’s an exercise in futility.

With both teams’ shooters assembled at the mid-field line, Lyman had the first shot. A glance at the Lyman bench found the coaches and players arm in arm in a line, one more show of solidarity for the team. They would stay locked together for the duration of the penalty shoot.

Senior Marko Bilal sent his shot too close to the center of the goal, but it had so much velocity on it, it bounced off the keepers hand and in.

An explosion of noise from the Lyman side followed.

Winter Park’s first shooter took what I thought in hind-sight was the best shot of the whole PK session, a screamer headed around the right goalpost and into the side netting. Lado, obviously inspired and guessing correctly, leapt to his right, body parallel to the ground, and deflected the ball away.

Quadruple explosion of noise.

Lyman made its next two kicks, and Winter Park made one and missed another. Lyman was on its fourth kick, with three opportunities to win. Make the fourth kick; stop Winter Park’s fourth kick; or make the fifth and final kick. We went with option #2. After Lyman missed for the first time, the Winter Park #4 shooter sent a ball careening off the top of the crossbar and upward, setting off a tumultuous ovation that wouldn’t stop for nearly 15 minutes. As the shooter missed, the Lyman players went streaking across the field as the stadium floorboards vibrated with the volume and emotion of the moment.

I too was screaming as loud as I could, but somewhere while watching my own son race across the field to join in his teammate’s celebration, a thought came to me: I’ll be darned. The coyote finally caught the road-runner.

Seniors for the Winter Park team sat or were laying on the ground devastated, crying understandable tears. They had fought hard and nearly won the game on several occasions, but fate was wearing sky blue and yellow this night. For most of those seniors, this is it. Sad as it may seem, life will start getting in the way, and their playing days will begin to dwindle. For Lyman, it’s off to Ft. Lauderdale and the state finals this Wednesday, so the journey continues.

As the Lyman boys danced, chanted, and sang into the night - taking victory lap after victory lap around the field - I could have sworn I heard the rumble of high school football waking up from its slumber, wondering how all of its fans had made their way to this soccer game. Of course, I’ve just explained to you why that happened, and how for one night at least – soccer was king of the universe, and the center of it all was a tiny, overfilled college stadium that turned out to be the perfect venue after all..