Archive for March, 2018


Week 12 Recap: Sinking the Rafters

Jimmy Cannon once wrote “the race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, but that’s the way to bet.” Such was the case yesterday, as we dispatched AC Poudre Rafters, the last human team on our schedule.

Personally, I will admit to some nerves before the match since we were clearly going to bear the burden of attacking, meaning that one fortunate counter-attack and some inspired defending from the scrappy Rafters could undo all that we’ve accomplished so far.  However, when I tried to ask manager David Jorgensen after training on Saturday how he planned to handle this, he  “Relax, it’ll be fine. Jere [Halla, our form coach] did some Finnish voodoo thing and the boys are spitting fire.  We’re going to stomp them.”  Jorgensen declined to further comment on what constituted a “Finnish voodoo thing” and, terrifyingly, only winked when I informed him that the club would not be reimbursing any reindeer-related cleaning expenses.

In any event, whatever Halla did worked.  Yesterday was the kind of day that everything just clicked for us- every pass found its target, our chances were taken with aplomb and our defense mopped up their few attacks with ease.  When the dust settled, we were 6-0 victors, as Misariscabame and Blackmon-Thomas notched a brace each, with Barton and Nick King rounding out the score sheet.  Our analytics department had it as easily our best match ever, and noted it was the first time we had ever cracked the 300-hatstat barrier.  (Our analytics department then had to sit down and attempt to explain to me what a hatstat was.  Let us just note that it involves math in some capacity and move on to happier things.).

Moving forward, we finish up with two bot teams so the league title should be secure [knock wood] and the question becomes whether we’ll have to play a qualifier afterwards.  Right now, we are above the auto-promote line by just one goal, so we may be sweating this one out.  Stay tuned.




Week 11 Recap: The Legend of Frenchy King

This past week saw another comprehensive victory for SSW, a 11-0 thrashing of Boston Celtix in a match that never saw us have to get out of second gear.  Rather than spend time analyzing every last kick of the ball, I figured that this would be the opportune time to shine the spotlight on the man of the match winner: Terry “Frenchy” King.
Terry King

Terry’s been with us for four seasons now, joining us as a 19-year-old defender from his hometown Vancouver Patriots.  Nicknamed “Frenchy” by his teammates after a certain club secretary, who shall remain nameless, accidentally typed “Quebec” instead of  “British Columbia” in the press release.  Terry decided to lean in to his new heritage, adopting a sneer worthy of a Parisian headwaiter, exclaiming “Tabernac” at opportune moments, and learning several of the words to “Alouette,” all to the immense amusement of his teammates.

On the pitch, Terry’s been nearly as adaptable, moving from central defense to wingback with aplomb and even showing some aptitude as a winger.  In all of these roles, he’s been an intelligent defender with a knack for rising above what he insists on calling “le grand achalandage” to head in set pieces.  Sadly, his progress has stalled a bit over the last couple seasons, as Jorgensen switched our training focus to playmaking and focused his efforts on others.  Nevertheless, Terry accepted the lesser role with a pseudo-Gallic shrug, has consistently been one of our best players on the pitch and has continued to be the life and soul of our clubhouse parties.

Going forward, however, there are questions as to whether Terry will be with us once this group hits its prime.  He’s a couple years older than the rest of our core trainees and the Payroll Department grumbles every time we have to pay the 20% premium for international talent, so I happen to know that our scouts have their eyes out for an American replacement.  But, whatever, the future may hold, Terry’s played a key role in making SSW what it is today, and it’ll take a heck of a player to replace him.