Look, it's 6 am and I'm coping with a mild hangover, alright? Blame Portland Futsal for the stupid headline. The futsal-ball palazzo in a cavernous ex-warehouse in Southeast Portland welcomed summer league players, sig/ots and their children for a lovely little post-season party last night. And since I can think of few things more compelling to the members of the Albina-Going Football Club than free beer, a solid contingent of Unicorns descended from the enchanted forest to take part.
AGFC's summer season—well, eh. We didn't exactly rip the Third Division limb from tiny limb in the manner we'd prefer. We lost the Rivals Cup to UrbanHonking Athletic, and struggled to turn out our full-strength side week after week. (When I'm playing 'keeper, you know there's trouble in Human Resources; our regular porteros, the Wright Brothers—they're not brothers, but they're both named Wright, see—were out of action for various reasons throughout the term.) The Third was also uncommonly loaded with actual talent this season, with a couple of outfits that obviously deserve immediate exile to the comparatively unglamourous First Division. I personally capped a season of ignominious performances by failing to get the word out about our quarterfinal playoff fixture, resulting in a forfeit that a team called the Samba Boys can pay me for later.
But hope springeth eternal, and los Unicornios seemed fired with a certain back-to-school vim last night. In the evening's 3-v.-3 tournament, we held our own against a crew of the fancy Latin boys who tend to excel at such unfairly skill-based formats. We took our bow thanks to a 2-1 loss, both enemy goals courtesy defensive lapses by...me. Then we moved over to one of the full-sized pitches for some half-speed, goalie-free 4s scrimmaging, with simultaneous beer consumption and an extra six-year-old on the field. This is a highly underrated way to play football, it turns out. I may have a headache and a sore ankle—but dammit, I LIVED, y'know?