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| photo via Sporting KC Facebook page |
- by Jonathan Nebel, writing from Overland Park, KS
The crowd was excited for this match-up. We were in the quarterfinals of the US Open Cup, 3 victories away from our first piece of silverware in 7 years and a birth to the growing CONCACAF Champions League. Plus, we were matched up with the only remaining non-MLS team. We could prance into the semi-finals!
Just like the Crew did into the quarters.
The Kickers are no joke. They play solid, disciplined defense, which is absolutely vital, if you hope to upset more talented teams. Richmond's defensive 4-4-1-1 spoiled wave after wave of attack and even sprouted a few dangerous counters. Sporting put plenty of shots on goal, but Richmond never allowed more than a half-chance at goal. It certainly helped them that Sporting, especially Teal Bunbury, seemed to lack that killer instinct. Players seemed to be trying to score the perfect goal at times rather than simply trying to score. When the referee blew for halftime with the match still scoreless, things looked troubling both on the pitch and on the horizon.
A storm brewed in the distance. Thunder. Lightning. Huge downpours. A chance of hail and maybe even a tornado. It was going to be destructive. It was going to ruin our Open Cup dreams. It was more than just a little rain. It was a tragedy on its way to Livestrong Sporting Park.
After 20 more minutes of scoreless play, the storm stopped the game. Lightning was in the area. The game was delayed for an hour and a half. For 90 minutes, fans worried about the worst possibility. Sporting rued missed chances. And, the Kickers went down to the brook and found 5 smooth stones to slay the giant. The symbolism was not favoring us and we could all sense it. That ugly sense of foreboding that seemed inescapable was attacking our spirits and it wasn't a welcome feeling.
As the worst of the storm cleared, the players and fans returned to the stadium. The rain was still falling. The storm never really left. Rather, it hung over the stadium like an ugly black cloud. Each raindrop fell and mocked the fans as it passed. They knew what was coming. And, I think, so did the fans. We just didn't want to admit it.
Within seconds of the restart, Richmond played a long ball into the box. It was settled and passed across the box where it met Shaka Bangura seconds before Eric Kronberg could get to it. The ball seemed to float in the air for ever. Each fan had time to read all the fine print on the ball as it hung in the penalty area. Kronberg got a small touch to it, but it was not enough. The ball floated gently into the corner of the net. It only took one small stone. One light touch.
Sporting threw the whole team forward to get the tying goal and the fans still believed it was possible after the last-second heroics against Chivas over the weekend. That was a different story, though. A different tale was being written tonight and we were not the heroes in this one.
A blistering counter from Richmond after an all-out attack from KC forced Aurelein Collin to make a rash tackle in the box, giving up a penalty. As David Bulow grabbed the ball and placed it on the spot under a chorus of boos, he did the inevitable: he calmly slotted the ball into the bottom-left corner under the outstretched arms of Kronberg. Exactly as it was written. Exactly as it had to be.
The rain continued to fall and a gloom filled the crowd. We were out of the tournament. If we want silverware and the Champions League, we have a lot more work to do. As the fans filed out of the stadium, rain continued to fall. It wasn't one of those pleasant spring rains. It was a cold, hard rain that showed no mercy on the mourning public below. The long walk from the stadium to the parking lot was cold, damp, and saddening. The grief was felt within all of us and was shown on us in the form of wet jerseys and dripping scarves. On this day, rain was not a cleanser. It did not wash away the grief and the pain. Rather, it deepened it. Gave it feeling. Gave it form.
On that night, Richmond had the author on their side. We were simply playing our part.
