#d.i.s.m.

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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

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D.I.S.M. (pt. 2)

2002: Arsenal’s League & Cup Double

The previous year I had suffered one of the most upsetting and unjust losses of my childhood when Liverpool stole the FA Cup from under our noses, and the sting of this loss meant that for a short time national hero Michael Owen became public enemy no.1 in my eyes! But Arsenal’s following season was the perfect tonic to that bitter day; they won the FA Cup against C****** thanks to a pair of classy goals from Ray Parlour and Freddie Ljungberg (resplendent with his red mohawk), and then four days later won the Premier League title in Manchester United’s own backyard.

While the FA Cup win was oh-so sweetly cathartic (we even knocked out Liverpool on the way for good measure), it is the latter result that is the main reason for its inclusion here. I probably only saw the MOTD highlights of Sylvain Wiltord sealing the deal at Old Trafford, but the real ‘moment’ was waiting for me when I got home the next day after school; Dad had bought all of the day’s newspapers he could lay his hands on and plastered every cutting pertaining to the Gunners’ triumph on my bedroom wall! And most fittingly, sitting front-and-centre was this gem below - a picture I have kept all these years!

                  2008: Andy Murray’s twilight Wimbledon comeback 

A week before Rafael Nadal & Roger Federer got everyone thinking 5-set dusk finishes were cool, Andy Murray was setting the trend. I was at Centre Court with Mum to watch the young Scot go up against the silky-smooth 8th seed, Richard Gasquet. Murray wasn’t playing particularly poorly, but not a lot seemed to be going his way, and he soon found himself two sets and a break down, with Gasquet serving for match.

But, another trend that perhaps started this evening was the string of victories Murray has pulled from the jaws of defeat throughout his career. In the next game he stormed to 0-40, but an ace flew past him, and then Gasquet played a devilishly delicate drop volley off his toes . The Frenchman couldn’t save a third break point though, double-faulting (quite possibly put off by the crowd noise in between first and second serves) to hand Murray the break back and all the momentum. He won the third set on the ensuing tie-break, clinching it with a winning point hit from pretty-much the front row of the stands, and the place erupted. The final result was never in doubt after this, and at 9:30pm Murray completed his late-night comeback and progressed to his first Grand Slam quarter-final. 

2008: Brits boost the boys in Beijing

A month-and-a-bit later, and it was time for another late-night Murray finish! Mum, Hannah and I had an incredible time at the Beijing Olympics, but our night at the tennis was the best by far. Things didn’t start well - fresh from his aforementioned Wimbledon heroics, much was expected of Andy Murray, but he was unable to conjure the same fighting spirit and lost lamely/moodily in the first round of the singles.

However, his brother Jamie had also made the flight, and they walked out on court together later that evening for a tough opening-round match against a Canadian pair including doubles supremo Daniel Nestor, who had added the Wimbledon Men’s Doubles title to his trophy cabinet the previous month. Initially, Andy still seemed to be in strop-mode from his earlier defeat, and after Canada took the first set, one might have wondered if his Olympic journey was about to come to an abrupt halt twice in one day. However, the Murray Bros dug in to fight back and win the match, causing something of an upset.

I am certain that they owe much of this comeback victory to the raucous trio of Brits sitting in the almost-empty stands; it was very late by the time this match started, but there was no way this tennis-mad family (and Hannah) was going to abandon our boys in their hour of need! We cheered and chanted from start to finish - I was probably emboldened by the lack of other people - and made the little outside court our own. There was another small pocket of Brits sitting on the opposite side of the stands from us, and we got them going too, creating multiple back-and-forth chants and generally being excellent cheerleaders!

As an added cherry on the top, we were sat above the entrance/exit to the court, and as the players departed we dangled our Union Jacks over the balcony for the Murrays to sign, which they duly did. Andy didn’t even look up as he scrawled something illegible on the flags, but Jamie thanked us for staying and cheering them on. And as we finally departed the venue at a very late hour, Hannah and I thanked the long line of dedicated Games workers who were waving the remaining spectators goodbye by running past and high-fiving the lot of them, to everyone’s enjoyment! 

2012: The Second Coming

10 years on from my previous Arsenal memory, and the footballing landscape had changed an awful lot - emphasis on awful - the Gunners were far from the force they used to be, and generally a ‘fourth-place trophy’ was the best they could hope for in terms of silverware. Thierry Henry had departed the club in 2007 having long since confirmed legendary status, but he returned for a brief loan spell, and gave the Arsenal faithful one more indelible moment for the memory banks.

He came on as a substitute and lit up a pretty uninspiring FA Cup third round tie against Leeds United by not only scoring the winning goal, but by doing so in such trademark, vintage Henry fashion that it sends shivers down my spine just thinking about it! His celebration was heartwarming too, as he didn’t behave like his typical cool, calm self, but went berserk with everybody else in the stadium. In his own words, this time around he celebrated the goal ‘as a fan’, and the sight of him running down the touchline and giving Arsène Wenger an almighty bear hug felt almost as poignant as the goal itself.

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Desert island sporting memories (pt. 1)

Catchy name, huh? I thought of something else to write about, and you have probably already deduced what that is; following the roaring success of my D.I.D. three-parter, I figured I’d replicate the rules for the world of professional sport - my 8 most important sporting moments. As with my music choices, they are not necessarily the best moments, but the most memorable ones. They can be a match, a moment, or miscellaneous, and they can be happy, sad, or rage-inducing recollections.

Happily, my selections are all positive memories, because while there have been some dark days (99% of which are Arsenal-related), none of them sufficiently scarred me to crack the top 8. I might even be able to stretch this exercise into another three-parter, because as I mentioned before, everyone loves a trilogy!

Honourable mention: my earliest sporting memory

Superbowl XXXII, 1998 - Denver Broncos 31-24 Green Bay Packers

I remember watching the game with my Dad, though being only 7 at the time I am certain that what I saw was a recording of the game on VHS, as I wouldn’t have been allowed to stay up so ridiculously late! I used to regularly watch an NFL highlights programme called ‘Blitz’ with Dad too, and although I recall next-to-nothing about this game, I know that this was when the Broncos became my team.

Dad was more of a John Elway fan than a Broncos fan, and felt for the guy after his previous three SB defeats; it seemed he was doomed to always fall short of glory. I hardly knew what was going on in the game let alone about the players and their backstories, but having learned more as I grew up, I really wish I had been old enough to remember it in greater detail, as there was so much to appreciate! Old man Elway finally getting his win, Tyrell Davis suffering through migraine-induced blindness to help his team, Shannon Sharpe’s A-grade trash-talking...and the signature moment of a 37-year-old quarterback flinging himself helicopter-esque into three onrushing Packers defenders, fully committed in his pursuit of that elusive SB ring. Watching highlight reels of the game now makes it feel more like a movie ending rather than an actual major sporting final!