Dropped Third Strike

Yesterday we sat down to watch the UEFA Champions League final between Manchester United and Chelsea. Now we realize soccer, fine sport though it is, doesn’t compare to the wonderful game of baseball, but we found the storyline too compelling to pass up. Two great clubs, both from England, who had fought it out throughout the season in the Premiership, with Man. U. barely edging out Chelsea to the league championship with a win in the final week, set to go at it again in a winner-takes-all battle to claim supremacy throughout Europe. The match started off slow (well slow by soccer standards–lightning fast, painfully fast, unimaginably fast by baseball standards) and we began listing all the things we hate about England. The Spice Girls, warm beer, the fact that they have knights and we don’t (though I don’t know what passes as standards for knights nowadays–do you really think Sir Ian McKellen could take on a dragon?) when we were suddenly interrupted by a thunderous roar. Cristiano Ronaldo (pictured above for those of you who don’t know) had pounded home a header to give Manchester United a 1-0 (it’s called a zero, not a nil–get it right, Brits) lead. This lead was overturned by a scrappy goal right at the end of the half by the Blues of Chelsea and we went into the half at 1-1. We’ll spare you the details of the second half and the thirty minutes of overtime and jump straight to the exciting conclusion: Penalty Kicks–every casual soccer fan’s favorite moment, and every serious fan’s most detested means of ending a match. Manchester United won the coin toss (yes, they have those in Europe) and elected to shoot first. Carlos Tevez stepped up to the spot, struck it well, and United was up 1-0. Michael Ballack responded for Chelsea. 1-1. Michael Carrick coolly pushed Man. U. ahead, 2-1, and Juliano Belletti quickly stuffed one away to even it at 2-2. Cristiano Ronaldo stepped up to the penalty spot. And then time stopped. We knew right then and there that he was going to miss, and miss badly. We quietly moved out of arm’s reach of all nearby United fans. Think about it. Here we had arguably the best player in the world, a man known for racking up mind-blowing stats against lesser opponents and then disappearing against top competition (his earlier header had been his first goal against Chelsea in 13 matches), a man who exuded a very thinly veiled arrogance, a physical marvel, a man who has some difficulty fitting in, an athlete constantly in the public eye, poised at the precipice of one of the biggest moments of his life. A career-defining moment. And take a look at that picture–the olive skin, the purple lips, the obvious tendency toward odd, semi-manic moments. All of a sudden we weren’t watching a soccer player taking a penalty kick in the UEFA Champions League final, we were watching A-Rod step up the plate in the 9th inning of a playoff game with Jeter and Abreu on base, and the game on the line. The outcome was inevitable. Ronaldo took a breath, ran up to the ball, stutter-stepped, trying to fake the goalie out and force him to commit, then hurriedly snapped off a shot, with much less than usual velocity, and the keeper pounced on it easily. (That stutter-step, by the way, was at best semi-legal–precisely the kind of awkward rule-bending we have seen Rodriguez engage in so often). Instead of trusting his natural ability, Ronaldo over-thought the situation, and in trying to limit the risk and improve his odds, he guaranteed his own failure. 

In the end, luck smiled on the lads from Manchester, and the soggy turf that had troubled players throughout the match caused Chelsea captain (and DTS favorite) John Terry to slip and push the decisive penalty kick wide (stay strong, John, it’s not your fault), allowing United back in the match, and enabling Edwin Van Der Sar to make a heroic save two shots later to seal the victory. 

The lesson? That’s up to you. Maybe it’s that the best players will always struggle to defeat their inner demons. Maybe it’s that a team needs more than one super-duper-star to win. Maybe it’s that luck is always the strongest force in any situation. But for us, the lesson is simple. Steer clear of the pretty ones.