Walhalla 4, Palmetto 3

Rain Dance in Cow Country

At the sounding whistle ending the first half of their contest with Palmetto last night, the Razorbacks chances of coming back from a 3 - 1 deficit to claim their second victory in as many tries seemed to the faithful fans in attendance who had made the trip out into the diaspora of West Pelzer, the unofficial cow-chip kingdom of the world and proud home to cow-tipping champion of the universe Dilbert McCoy, about as bleak as the overcast sky that had threatened rain all night but had failed to produce a single drop. But somewhere in the still silence of the intermission, off in the distance, on some forgotten knoll, a single cow began to moo and an ancient Cherokee rhythm began to pulse - the rain dance was being done, and its beat pounded in big Mike Estes' heart as he walked into the circle of despondant, hang-dog faces. I can't recall exactly what the Chief of our clan said but it wasn't about what he said that brought the rain this night. It was the passion that carried his words into the heart of our young warriors and brought their proud chins back up. This night would not be about the precision, triangulation, the beautiful game that has begun to be synonymous with Razorback soccer. No, this night would be the night all Walhallanites would look back and remember as the night sheer willpower was birthed into the collective character of our boys. The statistics and cold analysis of this victory, snatched from the jaws of certain defeat, are not even worth recording However, what must be written is that from the messy afterbirth that was this game emerged 18 steely-eyed faces metamorphisized by struggle and ready for whatever awaits them over the next 8 weeks. It's going to be quite a ride (hopefully I will be able to give more details).

Oh, and in a sidenote, they beat us in a cow-chip throwin' contest after the game. Us city slickers had no clue about the compositional make up of dried cow dung and therefore did not take into account its aerodynamical oddities when deciding on the specific trajectory it should be launched at. We blamed young Abisai Quinones for the loss since it was his mathematical equation that got us all screwed up. We'll get you next time cowpokes.

Goals:
Solomon Garcia(2)
Alex Cruz (1)
Eric Moxley (1)

Longest cow-chip toss:
Andrew Broome: 2 feet 7.29 inches (I know, I thought going to the hundreth of an inch was overkill myself)

js