You see, ladies, I was a defenseman
"You should tell girls you played soccer in school."
"Only from second to eighth grade!"
"Don't tell them that part."
That was of course friend Crash Ramos as friend Amy led she, myself and new friend Amanda into the wonderful world of United soccer.
Above is not a soccer game. Above is tailgating. Turns out United fans throw fine tailgates. My four hot dogs and two beers disappeared.
After cornhole, we ventured into RFK stadium, looking about the same.
But there were hot dog vendors in the stands! I wanted that for years.
Back when we sat in the yellow seats far, far, far above home plate.
Here the crowd unfurled a United flag when we scored a goal. It was our only goal, and we lost 3-1 on some decently embarrassing Dallas scores. ("Beat Dallas" is not just the town's suggestion, gentlemen.)
But, despite the score, it was a beautiful night to be out. The tailgate was the most relaxing place I'd been around the city in a while. On the way home, as Laura's repair shop had accidentally slammed its garage door on her car, we listened to E Street Radio in her rental. The Sirius station played parts of Summertime Bruce, a great-sounding Cleveland '78 bootleg with a rare Summertime Blues cover to open. Sometimes I wonder what I'm a-gonna do, but other times summer works out fine.
