Letter Twenty-nine | 12/18 | Russ
Grants Pass
Dear Lack,
What do I even say?
My entire day post-match has been spent both thinking about and avoiding the question. Immediately after Argentina were crowned champions, I left Portland with Kiana and made the four-hour drive down to Grants Pass. After arriving, my parents, Kiana, and I went to see Avatar: The Way of Water, which lasted just short of three-and-a-half hours. We returned home and ate dinner, chatted briefly about our plans for the week ahead, and now everyone, except me, has gone to bed. It is 11:27pm and I am finally putting words down.
I have accepted the fact that nothing I can say about the final will be adequate. Spectacular. Phenomenal. The best match I’ve ever seen. Each of these feels hollow, devoid of any actual meaning. Maybe the final was an event unable to be properly captured in language (for me anyway). In my mind, it is something that needed to be experienced in real time. I’ve just put on the extended highlights of the match and with every snippet comes the sense of disbelief.
Some chaotic thoughts from a chaotic match in a very chaotic stream-of-conscious like format:
Messi has another penalty. Please score please score please score. HE SCORED! France don’t look like themselves at all, totally stagnant. Argentina are picking them apart. What’s wrong with them? Argentina on the break! DI MARIA!!! He kicked the ball into the turf to make it bounce over a sliding Lloris. I’ve got to practice that. That’s it: Argentina are going to win. I’m so happy.
Wait. Goddamn it Otamendi! What the hell are you doing? There are, like, twelve minutes left in this match. You give up a penalty now? How could you do this? Mbappe scores. Damn it. Keep calm Argentina. Remember what happened against the Dutch. Ten more minutes. No. No no no no no no NO! Ninety seconds? France score again after ninety seconds?! What the fuck is going on? Mbappe is an alien. Brilliant volley. I can’t take this. France have all the momentum. What a difference those subs have made since coming on. How did Argentina let this happen again?
Extra time. Thank God.
Argentina on the break! Ball is played to Martinez! He shoots! Off Lloris! MESSI!!! Goal for Argentina! Was Martinez offside? Come on come on come on come on. ONSIDE!!! Argentina are up again! Hold it this time! Please for the love of God do not send this match to a penalty shootout, I beg you!
Shit.
Another penalty. Mbappe scores again. Damn it again.
WHAT A FUCKING SAVE BY EMILIANO MARTINEZ!!!
Penalty shootout. Zach is holding me in place. Bastard. I just want to leave.
The inevitable Mbappe. He scores. AGAIN. Unbelievable. Messi is up for Argentina. Please score. It’s in! Wow. So casual. Just passed the fingertips of Lloris. My hands are literally shaking right now.
Martinez saves Coman’s shot!!! Come on Argentina! You can do this! Dybala is up. He made it! Straight down the middle. Tchouaméni is up for France. He’s been so good for France all tournament. He shoots. IT’S WIDE! France are one for three! Paredes for Argentina. IT’S IN! Ohmygodohmygodohmygod! One more save or one more goal! Kolo Muani for France. He scores. Just an absolute rocket. Montiel for Argentina. This is it. Just one more. Please. HE MADE IT! VAMOS VAMOS ARGENTINA!!!
I’m sure you’ll be able to write about the final in a more organized way. But today, I simply could not.
This will probably be my last letter for this Cup’s iteration of end to end. [Ryan’s note, editing: lol nope, I’m gonna make us do final reflections!] It’s probably already clear from the writing I did over the past few weeks, but I am someone who likes completing the circle. I get a satisfaction when my beginnings tie up nicely with my endings. The first line I wrote four weeks ago was the following:
It’s hard for me to imagine beginning this first letter without turning it into a saccharine piece of remembrance and gratitude.
Likewise it is hard for me to imagine ending this piece any other way.
Until next time,
Russ