And then, of course, it happened again.
Back on April 19, Toronto FC played some dire, directionless soccer before thousands of empty seats in far-suburban Dallas, Texas.
They deservedly fell behind by two goals, but shook off the malaise and rallied to tie the match deep in the second half. Then an FC Dallaser whomped the ball off TFC defender Marvell Wynne’s needlessly extended arm in the Toronto penalty box. Dallas claimed the win on the subsequent penalty kick.
[PRBREAK][/PRBREAK]
So very, very much has happened since. John Carver gone as Toronto coach. New formations. New inspiration. Wins over Chivas USA and Kansas City in the league, over Vancouver in the Voyageurs Cup, and a fortunate come-from-behind draw at home against Columbus.
If Toronto FC go on to claim a place in the MLS playoffs this fall, that silly loss in Dallas may end up being the turning point of the entire campaign.
So I’m not so worried about the Dallas game.
Cut to the greater Chesapeake watershed, and last night’s tiff at RFK Stadium in Washington between the Torontos and D.C. United. Cracker of a match, this! A five-goal thriller coming down the stretch, with TFC ahead thanks to two sublimely crafted solo goals from home-town hero and go-to guy Dwayne DeRosario.
Before we get to what you surely know is coming, I want do drift you back to the cool, sunny autumn of 1977, when a younger, skinnier me made the Jarvis Bulldogs high school soccer team – solely because there are eleven positions on the field and only eleven potential players tried out.
I was an underweight left fullback, who couldn’t run, wasn’t strong and couldn’t head the ball. My memories mostly involve opposing forwards running past me, one of two clean and clever slide tackles, hoofing the ball downfield at every opportunity – and Coach McCully constantly badgering me to keep my arms at my sides.
About the only things I ever learned playing competitive soccer were that I wasn’t very good, and how to run, turn, pivot and hold my position with my arms at my sides.
So it was, last night, that less than three weeks after Dallas, a bounding ball in the Toronto FC penalty area found Marvell Wynne’s extended arm, the referee pointed to the spot, and TFC were robbed of what would have been a franchise-milestone 3-2 triumph in a building where always, in the past, they have been routinely pounded.
Debate rages, of course. Seems the definition of “handball” is interpreted differently in CONCACAF and MLS than it is, for example, in the English Premier League. We watch a lot of EPL in Toronto, and there’s no shortage of folks who say Wynne didn’t commit a penalty-kick offence on either night.
But you know what? I expect a slightly higher level of craftsmanship from the players I write about. It was clear three weeks ago, in squeaky heat of central Texas, that Wynne is never going to get that call, in the dying minutes, on the road, with the game on the line.
Marvell is a spectacular physical talent – blazing speed, and an ability to dribble eighty yards in under eleven seconds with the ball on a string. But he’s sloppy. Many times, his speed rescues him when he’s caught out of position. It’s a pretty good trick, but still happens a bit too often.
And then there’s this arm-flapping lottery-shoot game he indulges in at the worst of all possible moments. He’s now oh-for-two at it, and it has directly cost Toronto FC three points in the MLS East standings.
I know a lot of you don’t agree. And certainly, in terms of raw, basic soccer ability, I am in no position to comment on anything Marvell Wynne does.
But if a clueless klutz like me can make his cuts and keep his balance with both arms bolted to his sides, can we not all sincerely hope that new Toronto coach Chris Cummins will be drilling his right fullback to cut out the windmilling, and leave both arms on the bench the next time TFC enters stoppage time with a good result on the scoreboard?
The refs have clearly spoken – and a third round of this is a hat-trick all of us can do without.
Onward!