At 11:19 PM EDT 9/10/11 I sent this guy this text about Chris Pontius, the best player on the field by far:
Partyboy is a weapon
followed up by
He's a + mls player and thats the league he plays in. He and derossario have good back forth.
Four or five brilliant runs and yet another assist on a Davies goal, then:
A marvelous night for Charlie Davies and D.C. United was spoiled by the gut-wrenching news late Saturday that Chris Pontius, the club’s most consistent attacking player who was enjoying perhaps the finest match of his MLS career, had fractured his right tibia and would almost certainly miss the remainder of the season....
Around midnight local time, United announced Pontius had suffered a non-displaced fracture. A timetable for his return hasn’t been set, but with just six weeks left in the regular season, he seems likely to miss the rest of the campaign. More details are expected Sunday.
Around midnight local time, United announced Pontius had suffered a non-displaced fracture. A timetable for his return hasn’t been set, but with just six weeks left in the regular season, he seems likely to miss the rest of the campaign. More details are expected Sunday.
I am texted as Pontius is stretchered off the field:
I think we can safely hold you responsible for Pontius' leg, yes?
Yes. Alone my praise wouldn't have done it, but after the third goal I found myself daydreaming of playoffs and the soft teams in the East just points ahead of United and United with games in hand. I'm fifty-two fucking years old, I'd've thought I'd know better while simultaneously knowing I don't. (Also, it was 911 here when Pontius got hurt but 910 in Los Angeles when he got hurt - fine metaphors abound.)
United might still - should - make the playoffs (they have tough road games left in Seattle this coming Saturday, at Phunion, Columbus, Vancouver, home games versus this shitty Chivas team, Salt Lake, finish the season with Chicago, Portland, and Kansas City), but that was joyous last night, the dynamic between Quaranta and the wings, especially Pontius, and DeRossario and, yes, a motivated, running Charlie Davies. Pontius and DeRossario had learned - and were still learning - to run off the other, and fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
