Bobby Warshaw took a date to the MLS stadium with the longest outdoor bar in North America. This is what happened.
I’ve read a few things about this big bar at the Earthquakes’ new stadium so I thought I’d check it out. I got a couple tickets and decided to take a girl I’ve been seeing, Jane (her name isn’t actually Jane, but hopefully if I change her name she won’t break up with me when she sees that I was writing on our night out). It was her first professional soccer game.
6th minute—Arrival. We considered getting to the stadium earlier, but given that we planned on drinking at the game, we decided we needed to pregame a little bit. We walk into a silent stadium and realized we had missed a Vancouver goal. To be honest, my stomach hurts a little from the Coors Light I chugged just before the Lyft arrived. We find an open three feet to squeeze in at the standing table in front of the bar behind one of the goals.
7th minute—Me: “What do you think of the stadium?” Jane: “It’s gorgeous.” She looks at the field-level suits and the giant bowl creating a horseshoe above the field. “It’s all a lot bigger than I expected.”
“18,000 capacity,” I respond, for some reason thinking my knowledge of the stadium size will sound attractive.
10th minute—I go to the bar and order two draught beers: a Modelo and a Heineken. The bartender brings back the tab. $25.00. I immediately wish we had pre-gamed longer.
17th minute—Nicolas Mezquida scores for Vancouver at the goal right in front of us. It happens literally feet away from us (well, about 50, but the Coors Lights have started to kick in). It’s cool seeing the bodies flying right in front of us. Jane: “What the hell was that? It was so slow. I could have stopped that.” I am immediately reminded why I always prefer to watch soccer games alone.
23rd minute—Vancouver goalkeeper David Ousted gets a red card. I explain to Jane what a red card means. She says that’s rude of the ref, “don’t ya think?” I concur, feeling strangely attracted to her for using the word “rude” in reference to soccer.
25th minute—A group of guys arrive to the row in front of us. Jane says she can’t see the bottom right corner of the field. I tell her it’s not a problem, the ‘Caps won’t be there much anyway. She asks why. Me: “This game is about to get super boring.” Jane: “Why? Everyone seems so excited.” I explain that Vancouver will sit behind the ball and block lanes and force San Jose wide, and it will be become a bland chess match of probing and testing. Jane listens, soaking it all in, and says “Oh yeah, I can see that,” doing her best to keep a straight face and appear interested.
27th minute—Vancouver gets a corner kick right in front of us. All of the players are standing still waiting for the ball to come in, except Chris Wondolowski. Wondo is bouncing up and down on his toes. That’s why he’s Wondo. He attacks the ball at the near post and heads away for the clearance. I begin to explain to Jane the legend that is Chris Wondolowski. Me: “He sat on the bench for a while and then he finally got his chance and now he’s making millions.” Jane: “Isn’t he the one that missed against Belgium?” I give a three-minute long rant on the injustice of sport and the honor of perseverance. She looks at her burr [apparently this is what Bobby calls beer —Ed.] to see how much she has left.
32nd minute—Chris Wondolowski scores on a SJ corner kick. Jane, watching the replay on the jumbotron the size of a drive-in movie screen behind us and seeing Wondo up close for the first time, says, “Oh, he’s hot.” I swear to myself I’m never going on a date at a soccer game again.
41st minute—Jane goes to get us food from the small park of food trucks behind the jumbotron and I walk back to the bar for more beers. I notice the sign with the prices. The domestics are a dollar cheaper. My whole adult life I bought the domestics for my date and tried to played it off like I thought it was what the girl wanted, but I decide I’m a grown up now and Jane is cool and I want her to think I’m a baller so I splurge and get premium beers.
45th minute—Jane is still away getting food. She must be getting multiple things. This is going to be awesome.
HALFTIME—I pull out my phone and text a friend, “The Quakes charged me $12.50 a beer. I hope they get relegated.” He responds, “Why did you spend $12.50 on a beer you bougie fuck?” I respond, “Because I like her.” He responds, “Chivalry lives on.”
50th minute—Jane returns with food. Tater tots with cheese. I forgive her for the Wondo comment.
54th minute—Nick Lima scores for SJ. I don’t see what happens because I’m too busy making sure the cheese doesn’t fall off my tot.
60th minute—Me: “So what do you think of the game?” Jane: “Great tots.” I decide I would like us to have a fourth date.
67th minute—Jane: “Let’s get a picture.”
Okay, I’m the one that said we should get a picture.
79th minute—Anibal Godoy hits a shot from 20 yards out that goes into the goal right in front of us. It’s cool to watch the ball move from his foot directly towards us, like a special effect in a movie. We watch as the ball drives towards the goal and swerve just out of the reach of the goalie and the shake the net. Nice shot, but the goalie should have saved it. Just jump, bro. It’s not that hard. Jump and stick out your hand and block it. Goalies are always flailing their legs and shit. Move your feet, jump, and block. It’s so easy. I saw the same thing you saw and it was right there. Jane: “Bobby, you’re mumbling to yourself.”
There’s no way the ‘Caps are going to come back from down a goal and down a man, so we are leaving. We need to catch up on Big Little Lies. I’m gonna order a Lyft, but a Lyft Line because of the Wondo comment. I save the regular Lyft for the fifth date.