We walked into our season opener last night full of confidence, knowing that we, indeed, could beat Los Angeles. We'd done it before, but we need only look back to our final match of last season to prove that we'd have to work at it, and we'd have to remain fairly healthy to do so.
And then we conceded. Their goal came after they battered the crossbar and had some wonderful chances. We were somehow 1-0 down — and it came in the most predictable way possible: a David Beckham cross. Flung into the box early in the second half, Edson Buddle found himself between Schuler and Olave, and what do you know, he headed it into the box.
But that, it seems, is the only moment of true joy the Galaxy had in the match. In what seemed like the longest two minutes of my life, we were down. The Republican, where I watched the match, shrunk. The whole night started to collapse on itself. "We can probably grab a point here," I thought. "We just need one goal." I know I wasn't the only one thinking along those lines. We knew they looked beatable, but it didn't look like that night was our night.
Sebastian Velasquez, however, had different plans.
In his first MLS match — his first professional match — the technique-laden youngster looked reasonably solid. He passed well, with 93 percent passing accuracy showing that after the match. But it's what he did when he took a bit of a risk, crossing into the box from wide after some excellent build-up play, that makes his still-being-written story so much better. The youngster's expression said it all. The ball may have traveled in off the foot of Sean Franklin, but it was all Sebastian. It was a cross of some real quality, and had Franklin not turned it in, Saborio would have. It's something for the youngster to build on, though it certainly does continue to raise expectations on him. He does have a good attitude, and that will be invaluable in his development.
Speaking of vastly technical players who are a cut above, Javier Morales was an incredible influence once he came on. The creativity, the technique, the style: He's got it all. He can spot a pass, he can invent a play, he can turn the match on its head in a moment. Tonight, it was a good reaction after Ned Grabavoy cut the ball back into the box: A simple touch, a simple thrust, and we were ahead. 2-1 RSL. The place was rocking: The now-well-known words to our anthem rang out. It was magical. It couldn't get any better.
No. Wait. It could. And did. Fabian Espindola, bursting through on the left side, skipping past AJ DeLaGarza, finding space, cutting inside! A goal, untouchable by Saunders, low on the ground, taken with his left foot but heading for the far post. It was a finish that would be winning plaudits on the old continent, but one here that would be relegated to being underneath some sumptuous (and lucky) volleys. It was the sort of counterattacking goal against a counterattacking team that would make the Galaxy openly weep. That, they thought, was their sort of goal. No: It was pure Fabian Espindola. The flick-on from Saborio made it happen — his power in the air is unmistakable — but the run was one we're treated to week-in-week-out. If the Argentine Samurai can stay fit, I suspect he'll break his own goal record.
And how can the match be discussed without glowing words for Nick Rimando? We know he's a quality keeper, but this was a man at the top of his game. He collected well when he could, and when he couldn't, he punched clear, he saved with his hands but more notably his feet. His awareness was immense, and his distribution, though not perfect, was essential. It is the sort of game in which he thrives; our backs against the wall, he kept us in it time and time again. Sure, Galaxy fans might point to the crossbar as our true savior, but that ignores the invaluable and consistent contributions of Nick Rimando.
So, let us think back for a moment to the pre-season rumblings that the LA side would be the inevitable winners — without a doubt, apparently. Names were shouted from the rooftops: Donovan! Buddle! Keane! BECKHAM! You might be forgiven if you thought those four weren't likely to make the squad as the team prepared for a tough CONCACAF match against Toronto. Instead, they started. And when they managed to throw away a 1-0 lead at a ground they hadn't lost at since 2010, tiredness was blamed.
And that's the thing, really. Bruce Arena heaped blame on himself, saying that the squad was tired. You'd never expect a squad to be tired when they've been allowed to go on loan to English clubs (Donovan and Keane, hello), when they're old (David Beckham, good day), or, you know, when they've just played recently. The fundamental mismanagement of the personnel such that they'd be tired is almost laughable. But one must also consider that we played well at a high tempo, which would have pushed them along toward that state. Regardless, you'd think an experienced manager like Bruce Arena wouldn't be having this problem. No complaints here.
'Til tomorrow, when I'll take a statistical look at the match. Today? Let's bask in the win.
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