Before I left I did a lot of reading from online forums, both pro-Seattle and pro-Portland, and let me tell you there is a LOT of hate transmitted. Pretty much all I read was "Shittle" this and "Portscum" that. The funny thing was the Portland(scum) fans wrote for the benefit of their brethren rather than pointing their venom at Seattle fans the reverse was also true. Kinda like a tree preaching to an empty forest, if you follow me. No matter, it was entertaining. I did learn that the Emerald City Supporters were sponsoring a number of rooter-buses, which seemed like a good way to get there. Especially since they promised to have kegs aboard. In the end I opted not to take the bus since I didn't want to immerse myself in too much drunken angst.
No one from the tribe could make it, so I asked my buddy Niki to come along in the dual role of chauffeur and body guard. She isn't the world's biggest soccer fan but likes Portland and had the day free. We piled into the car and aimed ourselves at the I-5 corridor. It's a long drive but Niki and I are two jabber-jaws so the time passed quickly. My goal was to get down there as early as possible and make a day of it, rather than just getting there in time for the game then turning around and heading right back.
Even with Grandma Ragsdale driving we made great time and reached Portland around 2:00. We both had a couple of places we wanted to visit but agreed to stop for game tickets first. We found parking in a building a couple of blocks from PGE park. It can't really be called a parking garage, the best way to describe it would be to call it a basement. I was a bit leery of leaving the car because I was afraid they would lock the place before the game was over and we'd be stuck. But Niki called the posted number and was assured that we wouldn't be trapped and that we only had to pay the evening rate, a mere four bucks. We just had to leave it in the drop box. But there were no envelopes with which to pay. Luckily, the basement was a mess so we scavenged some string from a rubbish heap and tied the cash in a folded sheet of paper to stuff in the pay slot.
Our first stop was the back door of PGE park. I had called their ticket office the day before and found out that away-supporters would have a segregated entrance in the back, for us riff-raff, so we headed that way to buy the tickets. I'm glad we did. We took a stroll around the stadium and I spotted an open door up a stairway. Through the door I could see autographed baseballs on the wall and some other sports memorabilia. For some reason I stepped completely out of character and became bold enough to climb the stairs and poke my head in to have a look. It turned out to be the Timbers business office and the woman there was fantastic. Niki followed me up and the three of us began chatting. Mostly about the Sounders-Timbers rivalry, but also about Timber Joey (the new lumberjack) and stadium renovation and how the Beavers minor league baseball team is being sold down the river in favor of the Timbers' promotion to MLS. She let me take photos of the room then gave us a behind the scenes tour, including admission to a luxury suite. So I will go on the record here saying Timber fans can be assholes (can be, not always are) but their employees are great. For the life of me, I can't see me ever getting a spontaneous tour of Qwest Field.
We rode the Max toward the river to peek around and ended up rinsing our hot feet in the Bill Niato Legacy Fountain. The fountain is located just outside a sewage treatment plant which seemed odd. It (the fountain not the sewage plant) is dedicated to the native people of the Portland area and is meant as a play area for children. Neither of us are Native American nor very young but we were both born in the country so we figured we could use it. Not far from there, during our search for dinner, we spotted some friendly people (Sounders fans) and asked advice for a place to eat. They didn't have any information about real food but let us know Voodoo Donuts was just around the block.
I am not a fan of waiting in line to eat. If I have any say in the matter I won't do it. Sadly, life's choices are not always mine alone. Voodoo Donuts is somewhat famous and it had a line - for donuts! I could neither eat a donut nor wait to do so on an empty stomach so we crossed the street in search of refreshment. We immediately found cheap pizza and a beer served by a bartender who was so friendly he kicked us out. He said it was too nice for anyone to eat inside so we took our dinner to the sidewalk tables. It was truly a beautiful day. Beer, food, sun, plus famous donuts and a rivalry soccer game on the horizon. As we ate we chatted with three gals at the next table and fed scraps to their three-legged dog. I'm a sucker for dogs so would have fed him even if he cut his begging in half, and I didn't notice the missing leg until he stood. He was determined to eat my pizza, but I told him he'd have to wait until his owner wasn't looking. She didn't like him begging but didn't care if we fed him, so he got most of our crusts.
Bellies full, we hopped the train back toward the stadium. We made a quick stop at the car for my do-it-yourself Sounders/CHiPs shirt and made for the stadium's service entrance. I didn't want to look like a Sounders fan so as to avoid a tussle, thus we paraded around town as innocent tourists. I didn't really expect trouble, but I know you can count on at least one idiot who wants to pretend he's a real European football hooligan. Especially after he's had a few.
They turned out in droves. Inside the stadium there was much taunting, some of it good natured. But from what we could tell it was not safe for out-of-towners in the smoking area. Those people seemed downright violent. Of course they may have just been going through nicotine withdrawal. Seattle fans were put in a couple of sections well away from the Timbers Army, but just across an open stairway from other home fans. When I visited DC we were segregated way upstairs, well away from everyone. PGE Park isn't big enough for that, and it really isn't necessary. Strangely though, after the section was filled some security people came and kicked everyone out of the first twelve rows. It was supposed to be general admission seating, but the tickets had seat numbers. Mine was well down in the roped-off area. I asked why we had to move but wasn't given much of an answer. I can only guess it was because they wanted us further from the field to make it harder to throw things. It didn't seem the best way to treat out-of-town guests, that's all I'm saying. But I didn't mind, we just moved up a section to be behind and above the drums and flags. Away from the lunacy and with an unobstructed view.
We also had a good view of the drunks. My guess is the average age of the rooter-bus riders was somewhere around twenty-two. Prime drinking age, and still young enough to get silly. By silly I mean stupid. Many a "fuck you" was traded across the aisle, and one memorable twerp in a Seattle jersey all but begged his friends to hold him back before he would have to cross the non-existent barrier to kick some butt. Alcohol, it would appear, acts as open tap for testosterone. But there were only two actual scuffles that I saw. The better of them was after the game when a Portland backer punched a woman from Seattle. I don't know if she actually deserved to be assaulted. She may have said something, was certainly wearing the wrong color or most likely had just been too near an asshole. I'm not sure what the Portland statutes are for justifiable public beatings.
All in all, a fantastic trip and I can't wait for next season to do it again. Next time, though, it will be a league game so hopefully it will take place on a weekend. We didn't get home 'til 4:00 am, and luckily Niki did most of the driving north. Though I never fell asleep, had I been in the drivers seat we would have crashed. I am happy to say I both survived the trip and made a convert of Niki.
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