Running Between the Aisles: A First Row Idiot is Born

By Jason

Maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the company, or maybe it was just his innate Idiocy coming through, but in less than 4 hours, my son, Joshua, turned from a relatively innocent three-year-old into a mini-Brian chanting, name calling, beer bottle kicking Idiot who also now has a cute infatuation with Metro Dog...no Keith, he will not diminish your passion for the Dog. Yes, there was a game, but because of lackluster play, from my perspective, there were only two things to watch on Sunday’s sweltering afternoon steam box – the Idiots' obsession with placing jagged metal and glass items in, on and around my car and Joshua's growth into a burgeoning Idiot.

When I brought young Joshua to the game, I envisioned a healthy dose of soccer, three-year-old style, where Joshua kicks the ball and then cries when the ball is not immediately kicked back, followed by the legendary cook-out feast for which the Idiots are famed, and then a trouncing of the hated DC Divided, especially without star, Freddy Adu who was called away for U-20 duty. Maybe it was the Meadowlands Meltdown under the sweltering New Jersey sky, but none of those expectations were fulfilled.

First, the parking lot festivities were a bit less festive than usual. I arrived at about 4:20, a good hour late by First Row standards and only two Idiots were there to greet me – no food/no beverage. Johnny "Ah Yeah" Metro had the b-b-q sans table and chairs, no tent for shade and nothing on the grill…but he later recovered by providing perfectly grilled burgers and sausages and this week he didn’t even have some excuse for being late like "my wife needs a brain scan". As usual Ronen was present. But are we in such disarray that when I arrived he was scamming beers off neighboring tailgaters and then saying, "sorry man I could only get one for myself…want a sip". While I am definitely not one to criticize the pre-game festivities since I rarely, if ever, orchestrate them, I none-the-less must state my disappointment this season in our uncoordinated efforts. LET’S GET IT TOGETHER GUYS! I have not tasted Ronen’s legendary sangria. I hear rumors of grilled Lobsterfest without a plan for getting it done. What do I have to do to leech a decent pregame meal…cook it myself? Well, we know that’s not going to happen. So, I write in the hopes of inspiring the group mentality. So, who’s going to take the lead?

Prior to kickoff there was little to do and the heat was too much for the little tike. So I had to resort to plan B – scarfing down a burger and hot sausage and then seeking refuge in the stadium with ice-cream in the stands as the players warmed up. The downside: I was treated to the DC fan’s chant of "Who is the Home Team" and various other degrading songs reminiscent of the English Fans two weeks ago which, both then and now, all outsang the local herd. Tss Tss. Then, Joshua, to my dismay says, "I like the loud drums…lets go sit over there [as he pointed to the DC endzone]." Yes, he received a good tongue lashing for that miscue.

Not much improved with the game itself, which was a bit of a mess for the Metros. Aside from Zach Wells’ relentless goal keeping reminiscent of the great – dare I say it – TIMMY! – the remainder of the team looked sluggish, incohesive, and tired. Time after time, DC seemed to slip by the defenders, especially in the first half when there were like 10 shots on goal (that’s not an official count). But, Zach seemed to constantly keep his composure blocking shot after shot from 10, 20 and 30 yards away, his true talent epitomized by a shot late in the first half when Quaranta (I think) snuck through and, one on one, with the net wide open behind Wells, our young keeper boxed the him out and with a dive to his right prevented a direct shot on goal, only one of many impressive saves by the young keeper. Aside from a few quick attacks by the Metros, there was not any sharp movement of the ball from the mid-fielders to the forwards and control is not our strong suit at the moment. One can simply hope that newly acquired Ante Ravoz and his powerful striking ability???, he will take some of the pressure off of the middle and allow them to open up the field a little more.

Back to Joshua, however, the growth of the young First Row Idiot became apparent when he moved from sitting in my lap while watching the first twenty minutes to sitting in Brian's lap punching him in the stomach (Brian took the beating in case that was unclear). Somehow Brian transformed this shy boy into a name-calling first row intimidator. There, he learned some of life’s important lesions, I mean lessons. Like, how to call an opposing player during a corner kick a pathetic A-hole. How to chant, "Overrated" to a DC youngster, or even how to simply scream "AHHHHH" toward the field, an effective tool in breaking not only your own but the opposing player’s concentration. Yes, Brian's school of stadium etiquette was a proud moment for any father to enjoy. I mean, how often can you hear the delightful young squeal of "You're a stupid bitch" from your child's lips. But, the topper for the afternoon had to be bowling for empty beer bottles. Brian taught my impressionable child not only to play soccer directly in the middle of a field of broken glass in the parking lot, but then to take the ball and kick into additional standing empty beer bottles. Brian then shouted "Alright" and raised his arms in triumph with the fall of each new bottle. Nice job Bri – I’ll expect an invitation to dinner so you can explain Joshua's new habits to his mother.