The Citizen

Issue date: 11/14/07 Section: Features

Media Credit: Nathalie Zegarra

"I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain - and back in rain," wrote Robert Frost, the of!cial poet of the KSG soccer team. On Saturday, November 3, we walked out in the rain men, and walked back giants. Amid the darkness and the howling wind, we defeated our archrivals, Brandeis International Business School.

In boshing our way to victory, we booked a place in the !nal of the Boston Graduate School League. We also gained revenge over Brandeis, who defeated us last year with a tactic borrowed from Joseph Jackson: when you can't succeed on your own, bring in the kids. Last year, Brandeis, fearful of KSG's swashbuckling reputation, employed lithe undergraduates from their varsity team to outpace our aging stars.

This year, they could have brought Wayne Rooney, and the pug-faced boy-genius would still have left crying. We were prepared for anything, except defeat.

This was the biggest game of the season. Led by captain marvel, Tristan "mmmbop" Hanson, KSG's multinational force had dispatched HLS, HBS and the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences to secure a place in the semi!nal. Undeterred by a home pitch spotted with potholes, our team had combined European resolve, North American ingenuity, and Latin American skill to defeat lesser mortals and set us up for the grudge match against Brandeis. Our trademarked brand of champagne football was set for its sternest test.

Doing our best to resemble the cast of Cannonball Run, we arrived early after a perilous drive through the eye of the storm. All of us except your correspondent and his new hero, future President of Chile Tomas Recart. Tomas and I were left to the mercy of Boston public transport, and turned up seconds before the prearranged start time. The team was in high spirits as we took shelter in our cars (or in the case of your correspondent, in a nearby port-a-potty), aware that our opponents were trying to intimidate us by arriving late.

We would not be distracted. After Tristan announced the starting eleven, the whole squad gathered for our pre-game ritual. More intimidating than the New Zealand haka, more inspiring than La Marseillaise, the infamous KSG huddle was delivered with aplomb. We were ready to rock. Referee, blow your whistle.

Playing into the gale, our defense withstood early pressure. The back four of your correspondent, Tony "The Enforcer" Saudek, Federico Ortega and Daniel Mauricio Acevedo rebutted every attack that threatened our agile goalkeeper, German "The Cat" Sturzenegger. Showing a lack of imagination to rival that of Rudy Giuliani's speechwriter, Brandeis resorted to the long ball. But they failed to breach the KSG back line, led by The Enforcer at his best. When Brandeis managed the occasional corner (due to some shameful decisions from a probably venal referee), the cat, performing his best impression of Sly Stallone from Escape to Victory, was there to pounce.

With a solid foundation in place, our mid!eld took advantage. The champagne began to "ow. Our central duo of Tristan and Tomas started to dominate. On the right wing, Canada's !nest, Devin DeCiantis, used his silky skills to good effect, showing why he has a !ancée who is willing to attend every game, no matter the weather. On the left (like his politics), Langdon Greenhalgh used all his disaster management experience to exploit the woeful conditions. As the half progressed, this quartet increasingly exploited the movement of our strike pairing.

With the technical genius of Rodrigo Edwards alongside him, rookie of the year Jake Waxman harried his way to prominence, feeding off accurate balls from the mid!eld. Chances began to appear: Rodrigo peppered the Brandeis goal from long range, while Waxman laid off for substitute Ben Clark to clip the top of the bar from thirty yards with a rasping shot.

As the half time whistle went, we were satis!ed: 0-0, and a second half to come with the wind behind us.

However, the second forty-!ve started shakily. Brandeis came out strong and The Cat had to act sharply to keep the game scoreless. Shaken by our tentative start, your correspondent may or may not have over-exaggerated an injury to allow us pause.

Perhaps it was that piece of inspired chicanery that turned the game in our favor. More plausibly, it was captain marvel's inspired squad rotation system. As legs tired, new players entered, bringing vim and vigor. Carlos Chango replaced his red poncho with the red of the KSG jersey and caused endless problems for corporate middle managers of the future. Edgar Torres Garrido, Marco Llinas, Eric White, Dimitri Stoelinga and Martin Hommes all caused more disruption than a Mid-Career during a class discussion.

Then disaster struck. Tony and Langdon leaped up simultaneously to head a high shank from a Brandeis defender. Whack. Blood everywhere. Staggering to their feet, Langdon resembled a Van Gogh self-portrait while Tony had to go off for emergency lip surgery.

Shaken by these events, KSG rallied. Wave after wave of attack "ooded the Brandeis goal. Then, it happened. Passes were exchanged between defense and mid!eld, before the latter fed the man of wax. Jake took the ball in his stride; shimmying to and fro he broke free of his marker. Reaching the box, he powered forward before slotting the ball underneath the goalkeeper. GGGGOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!

But Brandeis wasn't done. They poured forward, winning corner after corner. Gallantly, the defense placed their bodies in front of the onslaught. But it wasn't just the back four - the whole team manned together, beating back the offensive onslaught. Ten minutes seemed like ten hours as the rain pelted down.

Finally, it was over. The team took stock of a fantastic performance. We were triumphant! We played like heroes. We showed more leadership than a decade's worth of CPL events. We're one game away from ultimate glory. HBS - you've been warned.

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