Letter Thirty-one | 12/20 | Russ

Grants Pass

Dear Lack, 

Thank you for giving me one more opportunity to write. The last letter felt unsatisfactory as an ending. And, as I already mentioned, I enjoy tidy, satisfying endings.

So—let’s do this.

There are times when, during my 25-minute-long commute to and from work, I have nothing to listen to. Usually I play a podcast (often about sports or movies), but other times I just shuffle a playlist. And occasionally, as I’m making my way down the M3, the lush Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens flanking my left, Table Mountain on my right, I’ll hear the beginning to REO Speedwagon’s “Ridin’ the Storm Out” and think: this song rips.

There is, of course, a shared history: we played this song at Zach’s on Rockband one late night; you first declared that the song does, in fact, rip. But it also became the unofficial anthem of Bad Lads AC. Just a few days ago, as I was driving with Matt and Zach to an indoor match, I made a point of playing it. And what an absolute pleasure it was to play with the Lads again. 

I’ve been thinking a lot about my favorite Bad Lads memory. There is the time that you, Nate, and I all connected to manufacture a goal, which remains the best and most meaningful goal I’ve ever scored. Or the last time I played in an outdoor match, the championship, and so many of my friends came to support us. And there are, of course, the post-match drinks, the kick-arounds, the parties.

But I think my favorite Bad Lads memory is when the team drove 45 minutes to play a match at Snyder Park in Sherwood. The weather was miserable, a combination of rain and hail that forced us to take shelter under some trees close to the field. Shortly before the match was scheduled to begin, we discovered that the league had been unable to secure a referee for the match and that it would have to be rescheduled. The field, however, was still reserved for us. The team we were supposed to play decided to bail, but the Lads chose otherwise. Nineteen of us stayed to play a scrimmage. Why? Because we love the game.

I think about this in the context of this project. We began with some doubt. Should we write about something we have severe moral objections to? Are we hypocrites for deriving pleasure from such a problematic event? Probably. But hopefully the two things—our criticism and our love for the game—can both exist. Hopefully this project—which I will unabashedly call a labor of love—has raised some questions about political commitments, aesthetics, nostalgia, capitalism, globalization, consumerism, and, most importantly, the correct fucking use of “post-modernism.”

I worry that this all sounds like ineloquent, half-baked nonsense. Even after thirty days of doing this, I still don’t have the language to express how I feel about the World Cup. I’ll say this though: It’s been a wonderful time.

Thank you Lack for being willing to do this project with me again. It is one of my greatest blessings to have you as a best friend. 

Thank you to Joe, Miles, Peter, and Zach for contributing to the project. Were it not for you, this project may have derailed. Thank you all for your kindness, generosity, and intelligence. 

And finally, thank you to everyone who took the time to read. In a World Cup filled with exuberance and horror, I hope this project provided some insight—or, maybe, just entertaining commentary. 

Thank you all for riding the storm out.

My best,

Russ