Blog

A Serious Look at Team

Thu, 26 Aug 2010 17:00:41 -0400

While, over the last few months, I’ve been purely nonexistent on the blogging front (I’ll make up for it this next few weeks), don’t be fooled into thinking the life of a Sky Blue player has been following in those not-so active footsteps. As a matter of fact - and not in unusual fashion- New Jersey Sky Blue FC has seen much change. We bid ado to an entire WPS franchise gone bankrupt, dealt with friends traded, done our best to make new players feel at home, swapped coaches, endured a 6-game non-winning spell and completely shifted (for the better) the attitudes of 22 players.

I suppose change is the nature of the start-up beast. Through all the change and surprise, one thing remains consistent: There’s nothing consistent ... Except that it’s consistently inconsistent. Now, I’m not one to set ablaze the fire of controversy. With that, you won’t find the new juicy gossip or my opinion on front office personnel and coaching changes (and you’d likely be disappointed by my lack of disdain anyway). I will tell you that, in some instances, change and inconsistency is very good.

The current shift in team dynamic has been a huge plus. For reasons that go beyond the explanation of a simple blog, we are undergoing a transformation from being eggshell-walking, paranoid and tentative individual talents into becoming a confident and unified group that no longer looks to satisfy the selfish needs of 22 different selves. The team that becomes the 2010 WPS champion must have more than just talent because, at this level, talent is a minimum standard for all teams. With that in mind, New Jersey seamlessly seems to have reevaluated its priorities in order to establish a newly and unconditionally defined “us” that embodies a selfless team-first take on all things soccer. With only four regular season games remaining, we’ll see if the attitude makeover continues to work for us.

I recognize that this seems almost a bit too serious of an entry for this website. So, in case I made it sound like our path to success is founded in an all-business-all-the-time attitude ... Who do you think I am? All work and no play makes New Jersey a very boring team. Simply because we’ve taken a serious look at our team concept doesn’t mean we’ve lost track of the obvious fact that fun is a necessary ingredient to achieving our goals. Feel free to click the Video of the Month (V.O.T.M.) section of this website to take a look at one of the ways we entertain ourselves. Because the truth is, when you face new coaches, new teammates and new attitudes, you have to find a way to keep it light-hearted.

What’s all the World Cup Hub-bub, Bub?

Sat, 12 Jun 2010 17:00:41 -0400

There are many mysteries during an individual’s lifetime that can leave him/her constantly searching for answers. For example: Do really twisted films like Silence of the Lambs come from the minds of truly sane human beings? Or, what ever happened to hyper-color t-shirts? And why did they take grape Swedish Fish off the market?

Obviously Robert Stack would be the first to tell you that some of life’s greatest mysteries must go unsolved. However, there are other mysteries for which I’m now demanding some answers. The largest current mystery in my own mind is, in the words of Bugs Bunny, “What’s with all the hub-bub, Bub?” In other words, when did the United States suddenly become one unified soccer fan? It isn’t that I mind at all the rallied support behind the red, white and blue in the 2010 World Cup. Quite the contrary, I happen to be an enormous fan of the country, the sport and the combination of the two. That question more stems from the concern surrounding the disappearance of that same support for “the world’s most beautiful game” during the other 47 months in this 4-year cycle.

For the large portion of my just over quarter-century existence, I’ve spent my television perusing moments very hard-pressed to find even a scrolling soccer box-score across the bottom of ESPN’s broadcasts. So, forget about catching a full 90-minute match - unless, of course, it’s aired on a channel for which I must pay extra.

Fast forward to a mere three days ago and suddenly Hollywood stars are plastered all over television showing support for the once-in-every-four-year event. Nearly every comment made on Facebook and Twitter surrounds excitement for World Cup action. Half the people I see on the street dote a brand new jersey and I’m pretty sure I can hear all the drunkards from every one of New York City’s boroughs chanting, “USA! USA!” as we speak. Suddenly everyone is a soccer junky and is on a first-name basis with the world’s most brilliant footballers ... Perhaps it helps that some of those footballers only have first names, but I digress.

The point, if I actually do have one, is it seems there is, at the very least, a glimmer of hope that soccer will one day be as mainstream in the U.S. as hotdogs at the ballpark. I still wonder one thing: If 760-some million people watch the World Cup and soccer is the largest youth sport in America, how is this game not already at least a partial fan-favorite sport? ... And then I got my answer. A poll taken by ESPN asked Americans what was more exciting: the USA’s goal against England (ugly as it may be) or watching a clip of a random cliff diver’s 3-second descent from a rock. All votes are in ... America chose the cliff diver. So I take back my demand for answers and replace it with the very simple cliche: Well, the truth is, some things are just better left unsaid.

The City that Never Lets you Sleep

Sun, 16 May 2010 17:00:41 -0400

Ahhh, the City That Never Sleeps. The Big Apple. The Empire City. Gotham. The Capital of the World. What greater a place to spend time than New York City. As an urban palace that brings the world’s trannys, tourists and business tycoons of all realms together under one 3-mile sky, it’s no wonder Manhattan has so many unique and often opaque nicknames. It is, after all, about as predictable as a caffeinated Energizer Bunny on rollerblades and is, therefore, not able to adhere to one single label. Whatever you want to call it, the only thing predictable about our own New York City is the promise that whenever our squad spends down-time there, we will always come out with a lot of laughs and at least one truly unique story to tell. The laughs this week are many and that story is more a lesson learned ... the hard way, of course. But, I’ll get to that.

As is a standard for at least a handful of players during days off, a few of us headed in to the city to spend a bit of time away from soccer. Spontaneous day trips there usually involve allowing the city to happen to us rather than planning anything. We might go down the stairs of HAO’s (Heather O’Reilly) Manhattan apartment for a little yoga, a trip to a coffee shop, grab a bite to eat, do a little shopping, to stalk Carrie Bradshaw’s house ... or simply form The Total Packages - our new Sky Blue FC band.

The Total Packages wasn’t a planned thing. It emerged as fate would have it. I mean, we really couldn’t help that the team is exploding with musical talent. Tasha Kai, Karen Bardsley, Heather O’Reilly, India Trotter, myself - and I’m sure a few I’m missing - all have guitars. With that, we had no choice but to try to harness this gift. We are planning our first big show (you could call it a world-tour, but I don’t want to brag) this summer. For a sneak peak of skills, click on the Video of the Month page of this blog.

After the jam session, why wouldn’t we just go rent bikes on a random Tuesday evening? Believe it or not, the strange part of this isn’t the actual decision to rent bikes 25 minutes before the street-side shop closed so we could get in a random pedal through the streets of lower Manhattan. I more question why Kacey White, India Trotter and myself thought it was the greatest idea since slap bracelets to point out and actually select the sickest one-speed bikes the place had to offer for our sunset cycle (HAO was the only intelligent one to choose a bike not fit for a clown). So, in the same moment we hopped aboard our bikes Wicked Witch of the West-style, we also made the unanimous decision to make a break for Brooklyn Bridge. With only 25 minutes to get there and back, we tossed to the curb the idea of taking a leisurely romp through the city in exchange for the more goal-oriented, high-speed pursuit for that famous bridge. (Check out a few pictures on the Photo page of the site).

With a brand-new view of New York forever in the memory bank, we eventually made it back from the bridge in one piece (and nearly on time) ... but lost a fatigued India a few times along the way. “My thighs! My thighs!” was our cue to turn around and make sure we still had her behind us. Perhaps we should have told her to rethink her decision to partner with a bike that put her in a position similar to that of a Hotwheels bike from the 1980’s. Her quads have since recovered and we made it back to the bike stand without having to pay extra for our slight tardiness.

I have learned a few lessons and one very useful fact through our adventures. It’s no secret that New York City obviously has endless means of entertainment. The important thing to consider is this: While gallivanting about the city, beware of the signs. They aren’t always what they seem.

In fact, you should assume all signs are talking to you directly. Moreover, they all mean you should immediately stop doing what ever it is you’re doing - eating, walking, talking, picking up trash, standing still, running and especially parking. It seems New York has secret and cryptic lingo for its no parking zones. Either that, or Karen, India and myself are the only people on earth that had no idea what “No Standing” means. I thought it meant no loitering. No no. No. It not only means no parking. I’ve since learned it actually means no sneezing, no holding hands, no chasing waterfalls, no breathing, no being alive - unless you wish to be towed, of course ... which we were.

After capping the night off at a lovely Thai restaurant down the street, we were ready to make the drive back to our own beds. The very moment I finished mentally patting us all on the back for finding such a great parking space, I chuckled at Karen’s joke: “Well, we probably got towed.” My smile quickly turned to confusion when I realized that I was actually standing ON the car. If it were still where we left it. To make a long story short, the trip to the impound made for a long night. Our driver, K.B. (Karen), handled it like the champ she is and, $280 later, we were on our way home. So much for saving money by driving in.

After waiting what felt like half the night for our car, calling New York the City that Never Sleeps took on a whole new meaning. Additionally, I now have my own nickname for it. In lieu of the big crap the city took on us, I’d rather refer to the Big Apple as the Big Crapple. I suppose the truth is, some of us always need to learn the hard way.

Just Keepin’ it Dirty: From the Dirty Jerz to the Dirty South and Back Again

Mon, 3 May 2010 17:00:41 -0400

It’s safe to say that anytime a true northerner up and moves to the south, that person is in for more than a simple relocation into a warmer climate. With that, you should probably check your Yankee cap at the door because, the farther you travel below the Mason-Dixon Line, the more grits and slow-talking southern twang you’re about to embrace. That’s right, my short time in areas surrounding Atlanta introduced me to the very beginnings of what can be quite a bit of culture change.

Now, that isn’t to say that the north doesn’t have some interesting and, what some might classify as, difficult character traits. I’ve paid close attention to that over the last few days in my journey back to the New Jersey Sky Blue FC (yes the dream is not yet dead, as I’m back in WPS). The only trouble is, inasmuch as I am aware of all the reasons I like to make fun of the state of New Jersey, my recent release and relocation actually allowed me to see differently all the things I used to hate on:

For example, I didn’t hang my head out the window to gently, at the top of my lungs, threaten the lives of the cars in front of me in saying I’d show them who their daddy was if they didn’t learn how to merge; I didn’t nearly choke on my own dry heave from the smell that always guides me through Newark; I didn’t even mind that I nearly lost my entire vehicle in on of those cavernous, back-road gorges gravely mislabeled and referred to as a simple pothole. Rather, I welcomed the solid 2-hour traffic nightmare on that horrendous bottleneck on the New Jersey Turnpike; I appreciated the smell of hard work in Newark; And I spent some time admiring the fact that the alignment in my steering was now so remarkably off from a “pothole” ... All of this because I knew what would be waiting for me once I was back with the team at Sky Blue.

It feels good to be back. However, this is not, on the surface, the same Sky Blue FC I left back in September of last year. Not that it should be either. What are the differences, you ask? Well, Tash has some more tattoos - that in and of itself is probably blog-worthy. Pearcie (Christie Rampone) has another beautiful little girl in tow and is getting herself back into game shape after her pregnancy (incredible I know and also blog-worthy). There is a new coaching staff and about 10 new players compared to last year’s squad. Yet somehow, something seems like the same ol’ Sky blue ... I’m just not sure what that is yet.

I do know that, whether in things like the fact that one player has more tattoos than the rest of the league combined or that we have breast feeding on sidelines and in meetings, something about this team has always been and continues to be unique and special. The journey helps me to further realize that. So, it’s not all bad that I took the long route back here.

Rest assured that from east to west or north to dirty south - regardless of where the road trips take us or where my suitcase lands next, - I’ll be sure to keep it coming from the dirtiest state of them all - New Jersey (I mean that lovingly).

Dear Mr. Roadblock: I Don’t Like You. Love, Shannon.

Mon, 29 Mar 2010 17:00:41 -0400

It’s a bizarre and puzzling reality check when a person lives out a real-life example of the simple fact that things never seem to pan out the way we imagine, regardless of how greatly calculated our steps might be. Even when things seem faultlessly laid out, never underestimate our sneaky little friend, Mr. Roadblock. That dirty little whore has a wonderful skill of popping up and beating you down with a vigor most excruciating in times most unexpected. I’m not sure if its purpose is in leu of testing our commitment to something, in effort to strengthen our internal base through trial or to expand our sense of self by forcing us to look within during moments of detriment. All the same, those bumps in the road - or, at times, mountains - can masquerade as countless, unexpected troubles and the road to get passed them can be pretty steep. I would know. I’m standing on one as we speak.

Every team is a bit like a puzzle and every coach has a final picture in his or her mind. They must decide which pieces are needed and how each one of those pieces will most effectively be put together to create that final championship picture. That puzzle can vary greatly from coach to coach. Let’s simply say, for Atlanta Beat Head Coach Gareth O’Sullivan, I was not a piece to his collaborative puzzle. So, simply put, I was released from Atlanta.

Well, I said I would provide insider prospective on all things WPS. With that, we add yet another angle:

In my time of just over a year within the WPS, I’ve seen absolutely everything. I’ve been a part of a team beaten down time and time again with limitless obstacles varying in nature, mind-blowing in intensity and quite creative at the root. I was also there and took part in seeing that same team rise up and win a championship despite it all. I’ve been a part of a new team and its efforts, one year later, to start from square one to try its hand at winning a championship. I’ve seen betrayal and heartlessness, but also inconceivable acts of self-sacrifice and grace. I’ve seen integrity kicked to the curb, but also fell witness to what can happen when people come together to fight for its existence. I’ve seen people rise up and beat all odds. I’ve seen good people treated poorly and bad people given the world. I, myself, have been tested, burned, given a chance and had it all taken away. I’ve felt as though the entire world was at my fingertips and felt like someone sucked out my every ounce of strength, spark and purpose.

As for the topic at hand, I’ve seen grossly talented players traded and released. I’m not saying I’m one of them, but some of those players I knew and still believe with 100 percent certainty that they belong in the league. It all goes back to the puzzle. Even so, it’s a strange thing to see player transactions happen. Now I know what it feels like. This is another very real and not so heart-warming aspect of a professional league. Job security is not something players boast. You can never be complacent. You can never settle back. Someone else is always after your spot and someone is always evaluating your performance. The bottom line - sometimes it doesn’t go in your favor.

So, where’s that leave me? At this point, an effort to make an impression on some other coach by starting from the bottom as a practice player for another team is about the only chance. It may be true that I’ve never wanted and chased after anything so hard in my life, however, at age 28 with nothing to show for myself, it seems the WPS door may be closing.

With that, once again, keeping it all in prospective seems to be my go-to phrase right now. I’ve always come from the mindset that difficulty is a test. The more anguished and weighty, the more large-scale the impending progress. Certainly, I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t completely nauseous at the thought that, after all I’ve given up in pursuit of playing in the WPS, I’m left with nothing but an empty piggy bank. Yet, I still know I have a purpose and, perhaps, this experience will open a different kind of door. I just have no idea what that might be.

I’m sure I haven’t seen the last of Mr. Roadblock. Whether he sets out to test me, to strengthen me or to force me to put a check on myself, I know the potential personal gain when you face him bearing the right attitude. And, well, the truth is, I’ll climb any mountain if it means finding the puzzle where I fit just right.