Peter Sanger, a senior on the 2010 Milwaukee men's soccer team, will be blogging all season long on the UWM website. Today is his fourth blog entry.
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From the beaches on the East Coast, we headed back to classrooms on the East Side. A week off of games gave us plenty of time to recover and prepare for the upcoming week of action. In the classroom, it was a bit of a wake-up call as professors doled out the first homework assignments. Personally, I’m still struggling to remember my schedule and find my self constantly pulling out my laptop to check where I need to be and when.
It was a good week of practice though. We got a chance to talk over what went right and wrong during the weekend and trained accordingly. This week called for a heavy dose of crossing and finishing drills and some conditioning. For me, there’s nothing better. As a winger, it’s what I do every game, so the opportunity to fine-tune my game is always a plus.
On Friday night, a lot of us players got to head to Pantherfest for the first time. Since I’ve been at UWM, we always missed it due to having games, so it was a pretty cool experience. The Marcus Amphitheater was packed and the performances were pretty cool. I’m not a huge fan of the type of music that went down in the first act, but seeing Kid Cudi perform was sweet. I saw him at the Rave last winter and he did a lot of music off his new album, so that was a good change of pace.
The one good part about school starting is that it’s soccer season in Europe as well. So on Saturday’s, I spend about as much time as the typical American spends watching college football watching soccer games played in England’s Premier League and Italy’s Serie A. Thankfully Fox Soccer Channel was broadcasting Arsenal’s game this week, so I got a chance to watch my favorite club simply outclass Bolton Wanderers in a 4-1 thrashing. They’re only two points off of the leaders Chelsea, so this season looks promising. Something that made me even happier was to watch the other so called title contenders: Man United, Tottenham and Man City, all tie. Every season everybody says that Arsenal will be the team knocked out of the "Big 4" because they don’t spend a lot of money, but it just goes to show you that money doesn’t always buy success.
Going into this next week of games, I’m feeling pretty good about our chances. Tuesday will give us a good chance to test ourselves on the road again against IPFW and the Madison Tournament is always a good acid test for where your team stands going into conference play. Hopefully we’ll come away with three wins this week and be going into Horizon League play on a high. Furthermore, they got a new layer down on the turf field this past week at Engelmann, so hopefully come September 26 we’ll have a brand new field to play on in front of all our fans against defending regular-season champs Butler.
To finish this entry off, I’ve decided to start throwing in some thank you’s to the people who’ve helped me get to where I am today, whether they read this or not. Tonight I just want to give a shout-out to a lot of former Panthers who helped me make it through some of the tougher times. So a big-ups goes to Kenny Ogorzalek, Elliott Dunn, Calvin Mai, Van Hong, Evan Bartzis and Sam Alexander. With the amount of time you spend with your team, it’s not hard to believe that some of your teammates become your better friends, so here’s to those of mine who’ve since graduated or moved on to other schools. Until next week,
Joga Bonito
Monday, September 13, 2010
Monday, September 6, 2010
On to the East Coast...
Peter Sanger, a senior on the 2010 Milwaukee men's soccer team, will be blogging all season long on the UWM website. Today is his third blog entry.
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Giving up your social life, pushing through that last set of sprints, fighting through injuries and overall body pain ... it’s all worth it when you win. And since I’ve been at UWM, I’ve never enjoyed a win quite like our dominant 4-2 win over Marquette last Wednesday.
It was a perfect night to play; it was as if the rain gods knew we had an important game to play as the stormy weather we had been experiencing transformed into a beautiful evening. Just warming up you could feel the heightened atmosphere from our other exhibition games so far. Not only was this our regular season opener, but also it was against our cross-town rivals; fighting for the bragging rights of Milwaukee.
We started the game well and it felt like it was only a matter of time until we scored. We just kept throwing attack after attack at Marquette as they resorted to booting hopeful long balls to their center forwards. Finally a fine passing combination from Robert Jarosz and Cody Banks slotted Andrew Wiedabach through into the box. He brushed off the center back and made no mistake with a clinical left-footed finish at the keepers near post. Our players exploded, it felt as if there was no way we could lose. Even though we made a silly mistake at the end of the first half, allowing Marquette an equalizer, it never felt as if the game was out of our hands. We survived a bit of a scare with a Marquette shot off the post, but a moment of brilliance from Ross Van Osdol put us back on top. After receiving the ball just inside of midfield, he surveyed his options and saw nobody was on him, took a touch and let fly from about 30 yards out, putting it in off the upright.
The Marquette fans who had finally come to life following their tying goal in the first half were stunned silent. Two late goals from Edison Crespo were just the icing on the cake as he showed composure beyond his years to land us the Milwaukee Cup. As the final whistle blew, I can’t even describe the emotions that went through me. I just wanted to soak it all in. I’ve been here, putting so much work in with the other seniors since our freshman year, yet we had never won like this. I was overjoyed, yet on the verge of tears at the same time. In front of my city, it finally went like it was supposed to; Milwaukee was the best team in town.
Waking up on Thursday morning was pretty brutal. Class started for the semester and it really hit me by surprise. For so long, all we had been doing was soccer-related and now the school year began. We had a light practice, mostly focused on getting our bodies recovered. We knew we had to start looking forward to the weekend.
Friday morning we all gathered at Engelmann at 5:30 a.m. to catch an early flight out to New Hampshire. We lucked out as Hurricane Earl decided to hold off until after we landed in Boston. An hour drive to New Hampshire awaited us and all I could think about was getting into our hotel beds when we finally arrived at our Hampton Inn. Following a much-needed nap, we drove a couple minutes to the University of New Hampshire to get in a light practice on their game field. What awaited us there was quite a surprise; a very odd turf field. It was really spongy, short, and had faint dark blue lines for soccer.
Saturday, during the day, we went as a team to go mini-golfing. It was a great time and a good way to get loose and relaxed before our first game vs. University of New Hampshire. All of my memories of mini-golf as a kid involved a lot of fighting and ended in tears with my family. I grew up in a pretty competitive family where we fought to the death over everything, whether it was the first one into the car or who could drink their milk the fastest. Saturday night was our first game and it was definitely a battle. UNH was a very physical team, similar to Marquette, but probably better at it. They put us under pressure every time we had the ball and it took us awhile to get going. Eventually we fashioned some pretty good chances, but in the end we tied 0-0.
Sunday was a recovery day and we went pretty light at training. We also took a trip to the beach, which was a fun change of pace and went out to eat for a good dinner. Monday morning we woke up early and took on Vermont in our final game of the tournament. It was another hard-fought battle and we went down early due to some mental errors. However, Weedy got us back into it with an awesome goal and we had the run of play for most of the first half. Eventually we went to overtime and lost on another set piece. It was definitely disappointing, but during the season you have to move on and start getting ready for the next game. So that’s what we’ll do, we’ll get back to Milwaukee and start gearing up for IPFW a week from this Wednesday. Until next time,
Joga Bonito
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Giving up your social life, pushing through that last set of sprints, fighting through injuries and overall body pain ... it’s all worth it when you win. And since I’ve been at UWM, I’ve never enjoyed a win quite like our dominant 4-2 win over Marquette last Wednesday.
It was a perfect night to play; it was as if the rain gods knew we had an important game to play as the stormy weather we had been experiencing transformed into a beautiful evening. Just warming up you could feel the heightened atmosphere from our other exhibition games so far. Not only was this our regular season opener, but also it was against our cross-town rivals; fighting for the bragging rights of Milwaukee.
We started the game well and it felt like it was only a matter of time until we scored. We just kept throwing attack after attack at Marquette as they resorted to booting hopeful long balls to their center forwards. Finally a fine passing combination from Robert Jarosz and Cody Banks slotted Andrew Wiedabach through into the box. He brushed off the center back and made no mistake with a clinical left-footed finish at the keepers near post. Our players exploded, it felt as if there was no way we could lose. Even though we made a silly mistake at the end of the first half, allowing Marquette an equalizer, it never felt as if the game was out of our hands. We survived a bit of a scare with a Marquette shot off the post, but a moment of brilliance from Ross Van Osdol put us back on top. After receiving the ball just inside of midfield, he surveyed his options and saw nobody was on him, took a touch and let fly from about 30 yards out, putting it in off the upright.
The Marquette fans who had finally come to life following their tying goal in the first half were stunned silent. Two late goals from Edison Crespo were just the icing on the cake as he showed composure beyond his years to land us the Milwaukee Cup. As the final whistle blew, I can’t even describe the emotions that went through me. I just wanted to soak it all in. I’ve been here, putting so much work in with the other seniors since our freshman year, yet we had never won like this. I was overjoyed, yet on the verge of tears at the same time. In front of my city, it finally went like it was supposed to; Milwaukee was the best team in town.
Waking up on Thursday morning was pretty brutal. Class started for the semester and it really hit me by surprise. For so long, all we had been doing was soccer-related and now the school year began. We had a light practice, mostly focused on getting our bodies recovered. We knew we had to start looking forward to the weekend.
Friday morning we all gathered at Engelmann at 5:30 a.m. to catch an early flight out to New Hampshire. We lucked out as Hurricane Earl decided to hold off until after we landed in Boston. An hour drive to New Hampshire awaited us and all I could think about was getting into our hotel beds when we finally arrived at our Hampton Inn. Following a much-needed nap, we drove a couple minutes to the University of New Hampshire to get in a light practice on their game field. What awaited us there was quite a surprise; a very odd turf field. It was really spongy, short, and had faint dark blue lines for soccer.
Saturday, during the day, we went as a team to go mini-golfing. It was a great time and a good way to get loose and relaxed before our first game vs. University of New Hampshire. All of my memories of mini-golf as a kid involved a lot of fighting and ended in tears with my family. I grew up in a pretty competitive family where we fought to the death over everything, whether it was the first one into the car or who could drink their milk the fastest. Saturday night was our first game and it was definitely a battle. UNH was a very physical team, similar to Marquette, but probably better at it. They put us under pressure every time we had the ball and it took us awhile to get going. Eventually we fashioned some pretty good chances, but in the end we tied 0-0.
Sunday was a recovery day and we went pretty light at training. We also took a trip to the beach, which was a fun change of pace and went out to eat for a good dinner. Monday morning we woke up early and took on Vermont in our final game of the tournament. It was another hard-fought battle and we went down early due to some mental errors. However, Weedy got us back into it with an awesome goal and we had the run of play for most of the first half. Eventually we went to overtime and lost on another set piece. It was definitely disappointing, but during the season you have to move on and start getting ready for the next game. So that’s what we’ll do, we’ll get back to Milwaukee and start gearing up for IPFW a week from this Wednesday. Until next time,
Joga Bonito
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Game Day is Here!
Peter Sanger, a senior on the 2010 Milwaukee men's soccer team, will be blogging all season long on the UWM website. Today is his second blog entry.
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As we creep closer and closer to September 1st, the anticipation is definitely growing. Since my last post, we started Coaches Preseason and the three-a-days have now come and gone. Having only done two-a-days in the past, this preseason has really been a full emersion of soccer.
Each morning begins with the alarm going off and wondering where the night went. Following that, you crawl out of bed and make your way over to Engelmann, where the coaches have provided us with some light breakfast food to get you through the morning session. The potential treatment session with our head trainer John Ochsenwald is thrown in there too before you even get underway with any soccer. A short jog over to Shorewood High School around 9:30am gets your legs warmed and we usually the next hour and a half is spent refining the technical aspects to our game. Crossing, finishing, passing, dribbling; all areas are covered. Next, lunch is delivered to the locker room from either Qdoba, Noodles or Jimmy Johns is usually on tap to refuel our bodies with some much needed energy. I usually spend the next hour off passed out on the couch in the locker room, only to wake up for the afternoon session at 2:00pm. I look forward to the afternoon sessions though, because the majority of it is pure playing soccer. From small-sided to full field 11v11 games, the quality of play is improving daily and it really gets me excited to get our season going. Following the completion of the afternoon session, we usually take a ride over to local Downer restaurant VIA for some delicious pasta and pizza. With an evening fitness session looming, it’s always tough to know when to cut yourself off at the dinner table. The wait for the 8:00 p.m. fitness session is pretty painful, you don’t know exactly what’s coming, but you know it’s going to be painful. Upon completing the final team activity of the night, you just about have enough energy to crawl back to your apartment, house, dorm, etc., to crash for the night until you start it all back up again the next morning…
Tonight finally brings our first real opportunity to showcase all of the hard work we’ve been putting in since the beginning of August. Convincing wins over the Alumni and Whitewater were steps in the right direction, but the hunger to test ourselves against another fit, well prepared, Division I team is at an all-time high.
Marquette is one of the biggest names on the schedule every year, as we prepare to do battle for the Milwaukee Cup. Unfortunately, this season we’ll be playing away for the second year in a row, but hoisting the cup on their field will make the victory that much sweeter. Thus, I implore any of you who read this to make your way down to Valley Fields for a 7:05 p.m. kick-off to the 2010 season for the UWM Men’s soccer team.
Joga Bonito
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As we creep closer and closer to September 1st, the anticipation is definitely growing. Since my last post, we started Coaches Preseason and the three-a-days have now come and gone. Having only done two-a-days in the past, this preseason has really been a full emersion of soccer.
Each morning begins with the alarm going off and wondering where the night went. Following that, you crawl out of bed and make your way over to Engelmann, where the coaches have provided us with some light breakfast food to get you through the morning session. The potential treatment session with our head trainer John Ochsenwald is thrown in there too before you even get underway with any soccer. A short jog over to Shorewood High School around 9:30am gets your legs warmed and we usually the next hour and a half is spent refining the technical aspects to our game. Crossing, finishing, passing, dribbling; all areas are covered. Next, lunch is delivered to the locker room from either Qdoba, Noodles or Jimmy Johns is usually on tap to refuel our bodies with some much needed energy. I usually spend the next hour off passed out on the couch in the locker room, only to wake up for the afternoon session at 2:00pm. I look forward to the afternoon sessions though, because the majority of it is pure playing soccer. From small-sided to full field 11v11 games, the quality of play is improving daily and it really gets me excited to get our season going. Following the completion of the afternoon session, we usually take a ride over to local Downer restaurant VIA for some delicious pasta and pizza. With an evening fitness session looming, it’s always tough to know when to cut yourself off at the dinner table. The wait for the 8:00 p.m. fitness session is pretty painful, you don’t know exactly what’s coming, but you know it’s going to be painful. Upon completing the final team activity of the night, you just about have enough energy to crawl back to your apartment, house, dorm, etc., to crash for the night until you start it all back up again the next morning…
Tonight finally brings our first real opportunity to showcase all of the hard work we’ve been putting in since the beginning of August. Convincing wins over the Alumni and Whitewater were steps in the right direction, but the hunger to test ourselves against another fit, well prepared, Division I team is at an all-time high.
Marquette is one of the biggest names on the schedule every year, as we prepare to do battle for the Milwaukee Cup. Unfortunately, this season we’ll be playing away for the second year in a row, but hoisting the cup on their field will make the victory that much sweeter. Thus, I implore any of you who read this to make your way down to Valley Fields for a 7:05 p.m. kick-off to the 2010 season for the UWM Men’s soccer team.
Joga Bonito
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Preseason is here...
Peter Sanger, a senior on the 2010 Milwaukee men's soccer team, will be blogging all season long on the UWM website. Today is his first blog entry.
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As August approached, I knew what was looming just around the corner. August is the month of sweat, pain, fatigue and grit. Together, all of us players make the trek back to UWM after enjoying summers of beaches, free time and carefree living. Yet our social lives are now over, the next month will be spent either drenched in sweat and breathing heavy on the field or resting and recuperating between practices.
Going into my senior year, I have to admit that I might miss a very tiny portion of pre-season, but the majority of me will be glad to be done with it. For a week before we start with the coaches, two–a-days begin as player’s preseason commences. Morning sessions of pure playing soccer, followed by dreaded evenings of pounding pavement on runs.
The purpose of player’s preseason is to increase fitness, build team camaraderie and start playing together. Everyone wants to be sharp when we start with the coaches, so intensity is always high. This year we’re lucky enough to have a quality pitch to play on near campus at Shorewood High School, so the mornings are much easier than I remember freshmen, sophomore and junior year. I still remember showing up as a freshmen and having to run miles just to get to a horrendous field that we could get kicked off of at any moment by a team that had reserved it ahead of time. Playing on the turf of Shorewood, where we know the field’s schedule is a breath of fresh air.
No bad bounces to blame for a bad touch or rolled ankles are just a few of the perks of playing on a flat surface. Furthermore, our quality of play is immediately much higher due to the turf. The fitness sessions are still a leg killer though. Whether it’s running to St. Mary’s Hill to do sprints up the stairs and hill, running back to back to back to back to back 6-minute miles around the track, or doing sprint relays on Bradford Beach, you’re going to be spent.
This year is definitely different though, there’s a bigger sense of unity among the players, with the incoming freshmen already gelling with us returning players. We’re turning from a team into a family. There’s a sense of something special on the horizon and everybody knows that it will take every single player being on board in order to achieve it.
I’m looking forward to keeping you updated more as the season progresses, but it’s time for me to catch a nap before the next session!
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As August approached, I knew what was looming just around the corner. August is the month of sweat, pain, fatigue and grit. Together, all of us players make the trek back to UWM after enjoying summers of beaches, free time and carefree living. Yet our social lives are now over, the next month will be spent either drenched in sweat and breathing heavy on the field or resting and recuperating between practices.
Going into my senior year, I have to admit that I might miss a very tiny portion of pre-season, but the majority of me will be glad to be done with it. For a week before we start with the coaches, two–a-days begin as player’s preseason commences. Morning sessions of pure playing soccer, followed by dreaded evenings of pounding pavement on runs.
The purpose of player’s preseason is to increase fitness, build team camaraderie and start playing together. Everyone wants to be sharp when we start with the coaches, so intensity is always high. This year we’re lucky enough to have a quality pitch to play on near campus at Shorewood High School, so the mornings are much easier than I remember freshmen, sophomore and junior year. I still remember showing up as a freshmen and having to run miles just to get to a horrendous field that we could get kicked off of at any moment by a team that had reserved it ahead of time. Playing on the turf of Shorewood, where we know the field’s schedule is a breath of fresh air.
No bad bounces to blame for a bad touch or rolled ankles are just a few of the perks of playing on a flat surface. Furthermore, our quality of play is immediately much higher due to the turf. The fitness sessions are still a leg killer though. Whether it’s running to St. Mary’s Hill to do sprints up the stairs and hill, running back to back to back to back to back 6-minute miles around the track, or doing sprint relays on Bradford Beach, you’re going to be spent.
This year is definitely different though, there’s a bigger sense of unity among the players, with the incoming freshmen already gelling with us returning players. We’re turning from a team into a family. There’s a sense of something special on the horizon and everybody knows that it will take every single player being on board in order to achieve it.
I’m looking forward to keeping you updated more as the season progresses, but it’s time for me to catch a nap before the next session!
Sunday, November 15, 2009
All Things Must Pass
Nicholas Gerard-Larson, a senior on the 2009 Milwaukee men's soccer team, blogged all season long on the UWM website. Today is his 14th and final blog entry for the year.
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A bleak and overcast sky greeted our arrival in Valparaiso, a foreboding omen for the upcoming contest. We stayed Monday night and awoke early for the noon kickoff. Following breakfast and our pregame discussion, we piled into the bus and solemnly rode the few miles to the field. Valparaiso recently moved their soccer pitch to their football stadium, exchanging grass for all too familiar turf, similar to what we were used to at Bradley Tech. The stadium sits in the middle of campus, nestled into a hillside, and the stands, made out of concrete, suggest a nearby Orwellian authority watching over the scenes below.
Despite a strong push at kickoff we gave up an unfortunate goal about ten minutes in when a botched clearance was converted by a Valparaiso player at the top of the box. This galvanized us for the rest of the first half and we maintained an impenetrable defensive front, not allowing a single shot after the goal. We achieved some great scoring chances, yet the pattern of poor finishing continued and we ended the half 1-0 down.
The second half would prove to be one of the most ill-fated and incendiary periods of soccer I’ve been a part of. We gave up a penalty kick in the first 10 minutes and despite (John) Shakon’s initial block of the spot kick, the attacker finished his own rebound and we were down 2-0 before we even had a chance to develop some coherent movement. A few minutes later passions and aggression boiled over and a scuffle ensued at the edge of our box, resulting in a red card for each team. The game certainly opened up for the rest of the half. With both teams playing down a man open space and quick transitions characterized much of the remaining play. We pushed hard to try and gain a foothold on the scoreboard, however, the back of the net remained an elusive figment of fantasy in our last match of the season. Our bolstered attacking formation pushed more players into the final third, yet it also left us vulnerable to counter-attacks in the back. We ended up succumbing to two more goals in these circumstances, shamefully finishing the game four goals down. The only glimmer of hope in this mess of a second half remained Nkuti’s (Ndely) redirected header that sailed past the Valparaiso goalie and into the net. Mockingly, the referee halted my potential celebration (at this point I would’ve given anything for some semblance of positive action to revel in) by calling the play back for offside, consigning us to another goalless, unsatisfying defeat.
Following a shower and the traditional postgame meeting, we returned to the bus for our long ride home. Silence often reigns for much of these trips, particularly after losses. The noises of traffic and the passing outside world remain the only incursions into one’s music, homework, or mental meditation. More than often we travel home in darkness, so the ambience of outside light remains muted, almost surreal. Washed out glows of orange, flashing construction signs, the flickering of cars changing lanes and the omnipresent, stark glare of red brake lights hauntingly operate in a world that simultaneously feels so close, yet also far removed. The illuminated green highway signs offer the only representation of pastel shades in the enclosed, subdued hues of nightlife. Sporadic reds and blues of cop cars and ambulances splash light off of the various objects within the bus, penetrating the internal world of darkness, sleep and silent ruminations.
Strange reflections on this lonesome Tuesday night. Has it really been four years? X number of games, Y number of practices, Z number of hours on a bus. X times Y times Z equals the end product, the summary of my experience. I can’t comprehend the countless hours of my life, all irretrievable, that have been devoted to the pursuit of athletic glory. Was this some entrenched, selfish desire, an egotistical attempt at furthering one’s own interests above all else? Or was there some broader, more universal justification behind those lost hours? Perhaps I’m meaninglessly digressing, yet it seems both fitting and natural to revisit the last four years and attempt to place them in the proper perspective.
It’s interesting how youthful optimism, the conviction that anything is possible, slowly fades or matures with age. I can recall numerous points during high school where I felt completely convinced that I would inevitably pursue a professional career in soccer, no matter the circumstances. To admit defeat, to acknowledge that the dream might not happen never entered my mind, not until the maturity and reality of the real world sobered my unfettered optimism. This is of course, completely natural. In youth we often find ourselves invincible, and only through experience, trials, and antagonism do we come to the realization that there are distinct limits in this world, that progress is not infinite. The universe does not operate on a linear scale; it never has and never will. There’s no economic graph with a steadily rising profit arrow, no cure-all fountain of youth that magically grants immortality. Eventually we all come to terms with these things, but that confrontation often takes time and is neither pleasant nor avoidable.
In many ways, my generation is having difficulty grasping these conclusions and can you blame them? Our current society is apathetic towards politics, skeptical towards religion and indifferent to suffering, violence and injustice. Were we raised to question everything? If so, shouldn’t there be demonstrations in the streets, volatile activism and organization, campaigning and leafleting? We lack a cause to rally around, despite the multitude of problems, issues, and inequities worthy of struggle, publicity and aid.
In this is the monumental failure of our generation, a lack of resolve, an absence of a standard or rallying point. What is there to fight for we ask? Why should we care? If progress and optimism eventually run their course why should we be concerned with reality? Politically, we’re forced to make a decision between taking either the red or the blue pill, both of which carry the litany of negative side effects generally found on the back of any over-the-counter medication. It’s a lesser of two evils choice and if neither option in this realm of true or false represents your views, it’s no wonder disillusionment and alienation run rampant in young people.
Perhaps it’s overwork that undermines the hope of youth. From an early age we’re inundated with images, expectations and ideals. Imagination is stifled, fantasy is destroyed and discovery is rendered superfluous. Some school districts now have children watch a virtual tour of a museum or nature center on a large screen in the classroom rather than take them to the actual site, simply because it saves money. This is the beginning of the death rattle for childhood exploration and individualistic learning from the world around you. Experiencing something, the actual “doing,” is far more important than pedantic studying. We should all learn through action, rather than receive things second hand, whether it be religion, music, literature, politics, or otherwise. Thoreau found out that he could live comfortably on his own physical labor working six weeks per year. He stated, “I am convinced, both by faith and experience, that to maintain one’s self on this earth is not a hardship but a pastime, if we will live simply and wisely.” The rest of his time could be spent experiencing his surroundings and thinking about that interaction. He was unchained from the pressures of industrial life, absconded from the hectic pace of modernity and I greatly admire him for that. Perhaps Voltaire has the greatest advice for finding contentment and happiness in this world: “We must all cultivate our garden.”
The familiar Milwaukee skyline greets us as we travel up from the south. The illuminated windows of the skyscrapers, in their formulaic rows, gives an impression of austere regularity, yet the shimmering reflections from the panes themselves constantly change as the bus nears and finally passes under, evoking a sense of wonder at man’s engineering and architectural feats. The lake’s cold, dark mass provides a fitting contrast to the glare of downtown, completing the image of Milwaukee I’ve come to expect at the end of numerous journeys elsewhere. After four years it almost feels like home.
I appreciate everyone that’s read and enjoyed my creative output over the last few months. I’d love to hear any comments, concerns, or other responses you may have. Just send me an email at GERARDL2@uwm.edu. Thanks for taking the time to experience the random outbursts, digressions and thoughts I’ve put in this blog. It’s been a pleasure.
-GL
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A bleak and overcast sky greeted our arrival in Valparaiso, a foreboding omen for the upcoming contest. We stayed Monday night and awoke early for the noon kickoff. Following breakfast and our pregame discussion, we piled into the bus and solemnly rode the few miles to the field. Valparaiso recently moved their soccer pitch to their football stadium, exchanging grass for all too familiar turf, similar to what we were used to at Bradley Tech. The stadium sits in the middle of campus, nestled into a hillside, and the stands, made out of concrete, suggest a nearby Orwellian authority watching over the scenes below.
Despite a strong push at kickoff we gave up an unfortunate goal about ten minutes in when a botched clearance was converted by a Valparaiso player at the top of the box. This galvanized us for the rest of the first half and we maintained an impenetrable defensive front, not allowing a single shot after the goal. We achieved some great scoring chances, yet the pattern of poor finishing continued and we ended the half 1-0 down.
The second half would prove to be one of the most ill-fated and incendiary periods of soccer I’ve been a part of. We gave up a penalty kick in the first 10 minutes and despite (John) Shakon’s initial block of the spot kick, the attacker finished his own rebound and we were down 2-0 before we even had a chance to develop some coherent movement. A few minutes later passions and aggression boiled over and a scuffle ensued at the edge of our box, resulting in a red card for each team. The game certainly opened up for the rest of the half. With both teams playing down a man open space and quick transitions characterized much of the remaining play. We pushed hard to try and gain a foothold on the scoreboard, however, the back of the net remained an elusive figment of fantasy in our last match of the season. Our bolstered attacking formation pushed more players into the final third, yet it also left us vulnerable to counter-attacks in the back. We ended up succumbing to two more goals in these circumstances, shamefully finishing the game four goals down. The only glimmer of hope in this mess of a second half remained Nkuti’s (Ndely) redirected header that sailed past the Valparaiso goalie and into the net. Mockingly, the referee halted my potential celebration (at this point I would’ve given anything for some semblance of positive action to revel in) by calling the play back for offside, consigning us to another goalless, unsatisfying defeat.
Following a shower and the traditional postgame meeting, we returned to the bus for our long ride home. Silence often reigns for much of these trips, particularly after losses. The noises of traffic and the passing outside world remain the only incursions into one’s music, homework, or mental meditation. More than often we travel home in darkness, so the ambience of outside light remains muted, almost surreal. Washed out glows of orange, flashing construction signs, the flickering of cars changing lanes and the omnipresent, stark glare of red brake lights hauntingly operate in a world that simultaneously feels so close, yet also far removed. The illuminated green highway signs offer the only representation of pastel shades in the enclosed, subdued hues of nightlife. Sporadic reds and blues of cop cars and ambulances splash light off of the various objects within the bus, penetrating the internal world of darkness, sleep and silent ruminations.
Strange reflections on this lonesome Tuesday night. Has it really been four years? X number of games, Y number of practices, Z number of hours on a bus. X times Y times Z equals the end product, the summary of my experience. I can’t comprehend the countless hours of my life, all irretrievable, that have been devoted to the pursuit of athletic glory. Was this some entrenched, selfish desire, an egotistical attempt at furthering one’s own interests above all else? Or was there some broader, more universal justification behind those lost hours? Perhaps I’m meaninglessly digressing, yet it seems both fitting and natural to revisit the last four years and attempt to place them in the proper perspective.
It’s interesting how youthful optimism, the conviction that anything is possible, slowly fades or matures with age. I can recall numerous points during high school where I felt completely convinced that I would inevitably pursue a professional career in soccer, no matter the circumstances. To admit defeat, to acknowledge that the dream might not happen never entered my mind, not until the maturity and reality of the real world sobered my unfettered optimism. This is of course, completely natural. In youth we often find ourselves invincible, and only through experience, trials, and antagonism do we come to the realization that there are distinct limits in this world, that progress is not infinite. The universe does not operate on a linear scale; it never has and never will. There’s no economic graph with a steadily rising profit arrow, no cure-all fountain of youth that magically grants immortality. Eventually we all come to terms with these things, but that confrontation often takes time and is neither pleasant nor avoidable.
In many ways, my generation is having difficulty grasping these conclusions and can you blame them? Our current society is apathetic towards politics, skeptical towards religion and indifferent to suffering, violence and injustice. Were we raised to question everything? If so, shouldn’t there be demonstrations in the streets, volatile activism and organization, campaigning and leafleting? We lack a cause to rally around, despite the multitude of problems, issues, and inequities worthy of struggle, publicity and aid.
In this is the monumental failure of our generation, a lack of resolve, an absence of a standard or rallying point. What is there to fight for we ask? Why should we care? If progress and optimism eventually run their course why should we be concerned with reality? Politically, we’re forced to make a decision between taking either the red or the blue pill, both of which carry the litany of negative side effects generally found on the back of any over-the-counter medication. It’s a lesser of two evils choice and if neither option in this realm of true or false represents your views, it’s no wonder disillusionment and alienation run rampant in young people.
Perhaps it’s overwork that undermines the hope of youth. From an early age we’re inundated with images, expectations and ideals. Imagination is stifled, fantasy is destroyed and discovery is rendered superfluous. Some school districts now have children watch a virtual tour of a museum or nature center on a large screen in the classroom rather than take them to the actual site, simply because it saves money. This is the beginning of the death rattle for childhood exploration and individualistic learning from the world around you. Experiencing something, the actual “doing,” is far more important than pedantic studying. We should all learn through action, rather than receive things second hand, whether it be religion, music, literature, politics, or otherwise. Thoreau found out that he could live comfortably on his own physical labor working six weeks per year. He stated, “I am convinced, both by faith and experience, that to maintain one’s self on this earth is not a hardship but a pastime, if we will live simply and wisely.” The rest of his time could be spent experiencing his surroundings and thinking about that interaction. He was unchained from the pressures of industrial life, absconded from the hectic pace of modernity and I greatly admire him for that. Perhaps Voltaire has the greatest advice for finding contentment and happiness in this world: “We must all cultivate our garden.”
The familiar Milwaukee skyline greets us as we travel up from the south. The illuminated windows of the skyscrapers, in their formulaic rows, gives an impression of austere regularity, yet the shimmering reflections from the panes themselves constantly change as the bus nears and finally passes under, evoking a sense of wonder at man’s engineering and architectural feats. The lake’s cold, dark mass provides a fitting contrast to the glare of downtown, completing the image of Milwaukee I’ve come to expect at the end of numerous journeys elsewhere. After four years it almost feels like home.
I appreciate everyone that’s read and enjoyed my creative output over the last few months. I’d love to hear any comments, concerns, or other responses you may have. Just send me an email at GERARDL2@uwm.edu. Thanks for taking the time to experience the random outbursts, digressions and thoughts I’ve put in this blog. It’s been a pleasure.
-GL
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Playoffs on the Horizon
Nicholas Gerard-Larson, a senior on the 2009 Milwaukee men's soccer team, will be blogging all season long on the UWM website. Today is his 13th blog entry.
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The external conditions for our final regular season game couldn’t have been more pristine. For several days leading up to the game, the weather had remained encouragingly warm and sunny, and Thursday night continued the unorthodox trend. A fairly large crowd gradually surrounded Engelmann Field, beckoned by the unexpected November mildness and the promise of an exciting in-state rivalry match. The wind proved itself complicit in maintaining a comfortable atmosphere, never rising above a slight, congenial breeze. By this time of year our field is generally pockmarked with deep ruts of exposed soil, like a vicious acne bout on some adolescent’s face. But this year the clumps of dead grass are mostly confined to the goalmouth, and as we took the field on Thursday night the towering lights above us properly completed my conception of a near perfect atmosphere.
The game held special significance for me, serving as the appropriate finale to my career on Engelmann Field. If the fates turned out hostile it would exist as my final collegiate match, so I approached the normal rigmarole of preparation with far more severity and appreciation, attempting to savor even the trivial aspects of our pre-match rituals. The announcement of our starting lineup triggered an interesting and contradictory collage of nostalgic memories and optimistic future endeavors, sentiments that continued to arise spontaneously throughout the course of the game.
I generally dwell on some soccer-related theme during the playing of the national anthem, yet this time I reveled in patriotic fervor, softly repeating each verse and relishing every historical connection, proving my college education’s useful capacity. I became transported to the American past: Gettysburg, Normandy, Iwo Jima, Selma, Haight-Ashbury. So many events, people, groups, identities, all claiming to represent America and its proper ideals. In the popular imagination every one of these historically pivotal events seems to exist in a bubble, a sanitized and untouchable safe haven, where the national anthem constantly plays, giving the scene a distinctly climatic and movie-like quality. Unfortunately, history rarely lives up to these idealistic depictions. But I allowed myself to endorse this unhistorical notion, albeit temporarily, since it’s far more entertaining and far more appropriate for the scene at hand. For that brief moment in time I became American History’s preeminent archetype: revolutionary, Minuteman, Union soldier, Doughboy, Marine, protestor, revivalist, Black Panther, activist, Olympian, citizen. Francis Scott Key’s 1814 poem, modeled off of a popular British drinking song, became my soundtrack.
Reality quickly returned with the short burst of a whistle and the game began. Madison had beaten us the last few times we played, both in the fall and spring, so we started the match with a determined resolve not to let it happen again. Both teams gained their fair share of chances in the first half, but neither side converted. We began the second half a little sluggish, but were able to avoid a goal during this period of temporary torpor, responding with several strong attacking surges as the half dragged into the closing minutes. Our defensive efforts finally proved insufficient as we helplessly allowed a Madison goal with a little over a minute left. The game ended with a 1-0 score line, another unlucky, yet certainly avoidable, defeat.
Luck would return to our team’s aid, however, on Saturday. Despite going down 1-0 in the first half, Butler rallied in the second to defeat Wright State and ensure us a place in the Horizon League playoffs. Our season continues with a match against Valparaiso on Tuesday, offering all the optimistic hopes and prospects of a championship run.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
The external conditions for our final regular season game couldn’t have been more pristine. For several days leading up to the game, the weather had remained encouragingly warm and sunny, and Thursday night continued the unorthodox trend. A fairly large crowd gradually surrounded Engelmann Field, beckoned by the unexpected November mildness and the promise of an exciting in-state rivalry match. The wind proved itself complicit in maintaining a comfortable atmosphere, never rising above a slight, congenial breeze. By this time of year our field is generally pockmarked with deep ruts of exposed soil, like a vicious acne bout on some adolescent’s face. But this year the clumps of dead grass are mostly confined to the goalmouth, and as we took the field on Thursday night the towering lights above us properly completed my conception of a near perfect atmosphere.
The game held special significance for me, serving as the appropriate finale to my career on Engelmann Field. If the fates turned out hostile it would exist as my final collegiate match, so I approached the normal rigmarole of preparation with far more severity and appreciation, attempting to savor even the trivial aspects of our pre-match rituals. The announcement of our starting lineup triggered an interesting and contradictory collage of nostalgic memories and optimistic future endeavors, sentiments that continued to arise spontaneously throughout the course of the game.
I generally dwell on some soccer-related theme during the playing of the national anthem, yet this time I reveled in patriotic fervor, softly repeating each verse and relishing every historical connection, proving my college education’s useful capacity. I became transported to the American past: Gettysburg, Normandy, Iwo Jima, Selma, Haight-Ashbury. So many events, people, groups, identities, all claiming to represent America and its proper ideals. In the popular imagination every one of these historically pivotal events seems to exist in a bubble, a sanitized and untouchable safe haven, where the national anthem constantly plays, giving the scene a distinctly climatic and movie-like quality. Unfortunately, history rarely lives up to these idealistic depictions. But I allowed myself to endorse this unhistorical notion, albeit temporarily, since it’s far more entertaining and far more appropriate for the scene at hand. For that brief moment in time I became American History’s preeminent archetype: revolutionary, Minuteman, Union soldier, Doughboy, Marine, protestor, revivalist, Black Panther, activist, Olympian, citizen. Francis Scott Key’s 1814 poem, modeled off of a popular British drinking song, became my soundtrack.
Reality quickly returned with the short burst of a whistle and the game began. Madison had beaten us the last few times we played, both in the fall and spring, so we started the match with a determined resolve not to let it happen again. Both teams gained their fair share of chances in the first half, but neither side converted. We began the second half a little sluggish, but were able to avoid a goal during this period of temporary torpor, responding with several strong attacking surges as the half dragged into the closing minutes. Our defensive efforts finally proved insufficient as we helplessly allowed a Madison goal with a little over a minute left. The game ended with a 1-0 score line, another unlucky, yet certainly avoidable, defeat.
Luck would return to our team’s aid, however, on Saturday. Despite going down 1-0 in the first half, Butler rallied in the second to defeat Wright State and ensure us a place in the Horizon League playoffs. Our season continues with a match against Valparaiso on Tuesday, offering all the optimistic hopes and prospects of a championship run.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Autumnal Changes
Nicholas Gerard-Larson, a senior on the 2009 Milwaukee men's soccer team, will be blogging all season long on the UWM website. Today is his 12th blog entry.
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The wear and tear of this sport is really starting to get to me. As the season progresses those little nagging injuries that seem trivial at first begin to multiply. A few sore muscles on their own are generally easy to cope with, but when you combine this with a strained groin, perpetually re-opening scrapes from turf, and chronic tendonitis in one’s ankles it tends to conjure up various self-loathing, fatalistic conclusions about your body’s future well-being. This feeling consistently grows as the seasons accumulate, festering in the back of your mind as a constant reminder of time’s relentless toll on each of us. Now, towards the end of my fourth season, my body seems increasingly in turmoil, conflicted between maintaining the relentless, standardized form of self-destruction this sport requires and longing for a welcome, languorous respite.
The last four years have been a testament to what the body is capable of enduring. During the summer before my freshman year I underwent the first of three hernia surgeries, all resulting from strenuous athletic activity. Although these sort of procedures may seem odd in someone my age, they are fairly common among hockey, football, and soccer players. An ailment appropriately titled the “sports hernia” involves a gradual weakening of the various groin muscles, often caused by repetitive tears and strains and can lead to a more traditional hernia if not treated properly. The surgeon makes a small incision in the skin and reinforces the torn muscles with a supportive mesh to avoid further straining. Following the end of my junior season I again went under the knife for a second sports hernia surgery, this time on the other side of my body. I somehow developed an additional, more rare condition later in the off season called a Spigelian hernia, which is located under the oblique and lower abdominal muscles. My third procedure proved successful and I was able to rehabilitate almost fully for the start of my senior season.
Autumn continues to fade quickly into winter. The once colorful leaves now blanket portions of the sidewalk, offering a comfortable carpet for pedestrians to walk on, almost like a temporary yellow brick road. The air even smells colder, full of a dryness and expectant chill that foreshadows the coming snow and ice. Most of our team bundles up for practice now, bolstering the body’s warming mechanisms with hats, gloves and other thermal layers of insulation. We’ve yet to see a definitive snowfall, but I know Mother Nature will soon indulge those of us that long for a change of pace.
Our last conference game of the year brought us northward to face UW-Green Bay. The Friday game had to be postponed twenty-four hours due to poor field conditions, much to the chagrin of everyone’s trick-or-treating fancies. Despite the delay Green Bay’s field remained extremely soft and sodden, requiring metal studs to properly keep one’s footing. Appropriately, the style and overall feel of the game remained sloppy for its entirety. We aggressively fought hard at certain points to get some strong attacking chances, while also allowing our effort to lapse into a lackluster affair at times. A botched clearance led to a Green Bay goal in the first half and poor marking brought another in the second half. We ruefully ended the game 2-0 down and suffered another bus ride home in defeat. Our playoff hopes hinge on Wright State losing to Butler in their final game next Saturday, otherwise our last game of the year, and my last career outing, will be next Thursday at home against Madison.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
The wear and tear of this sport is really starting to get to me. As the season progresses those little nagging injuries that seem trivial at first begin to multiply. A few sore muscles on their own are generally easy to cope with, but when you combine this with a strained groin, perpetually re-opening scrapes from turf, and chronic tendonitis in one’s ankles it tends to conjure up various self-loathing, fatalistic conclusions about your body’s future well-being. This feeling consistently grows as the seasons accumulate, festering in the back of your mind as a constant reminder of time’s relentless toll on each of us. Now, towards the end of my fourth season, my body seems increasingly in turmoil, conflicted between maintaining the relentless, standardized form of self-destruction this sport requires and longing for a welcome, languorous respite.
The last four years have been a testament to what the body is capable of enduring. During the summer before my freshman year I underwent the first of three hernia surgeries, all resulting from strenuous athletic activity. Although these sort of procedures may seem odd in someone my age, they are fairly common among hockey, football, and soccer players. An ailment appropriately titled the “sports hernia” involves a gradual weakening of the various groin muscles, often caused by repetitive tears and strains and can lead to a more traditional hernia if not treated properly. The surgeon makes a small incision in the skin and reinforces the torn muscles with a supportive mesh to avoid further straining. Following the end of my junior season I again went under the knife for a second sports hernia surgery, this time on the other side of my body. I somehow developed an additional, more rare condition later in the off season called a Spigelian hernia, which is located under the oblique and lower abdominal muscles. My third procedure proved successful and I was able to rehabilitate almost fully for the start of my senior season.
Autumn continues to fade quickly into winter. The once colorful leaves now blanket portions of the sidewalk, offering a comfortable carpet for pedestrians to walk on, almost like a temporary yellow brick road. The air even smells colder, full of a dryness and expectant chill that foreshadows the coming snow and ice. Most of our team bundles up for practice now, bolstering the body’s warming mechanisms with hats, gloves and other thermal layers of insulation. We’ve yet to see a definitive snowfall, but I know Mother Nature will soon indulge those of us that long for a change of pace.
Our last conference game of the year brought us northward to face UW-Green Bay. The Friday game had to be postponed twenty-four hours due to poor field conditions, much to the chagrin of everyone’s trick-or-treating fancies. Despite the delay Green Bay’s field remained extremely soft and sodden, requiring metal studs to properly keep one’s footing. Appropriately, the style and overall feel of the game remained sloppy for its entirety. We aggressively fought hard at certain points to get some strong attacking chances, while also allowing our effort to lapse into a lackluster affair at times. A botched clearance led to a Green Bay goal in the first half and poor marking brought another in the second half. We ruefully ended the game 2-0 down and suffered another bus ride home in defeat. Our playoff hopes hinge on Wright State losing to Butler in their final game next Saturday, otherwise our last game of the year, and my last career outing, will be next Thursday at home against Madison.
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