These Are the Glory Days

When I started The Second Half back in July, with the goal of getting into the best shape of my life through the game of soccer, the Friday after Thanksgiving was always top of mind. That’s when my high school's alumni soccer game is played each year in Westfield, New Jersey.

Over time, the game has evolved into a highly anticipated, hotly contested event, with bragging rights on the line, plus the occasional popped achilles or torn ACL. This year’s contest was no exception, as some of the best Blue Devil ballers from the past four decades showed up at Gary Kehler Stadium on a bright, beautiful November morning.

There was John Ganas, elder statesman and member of the '80s dynasty that took home six consecutive Union County titles; and Alex Schmidt, captain of the '95 state champs; and Loukas Carayonopolous, class of '17 alum who was just named conference Rookie of the Year in his first season at MIT.

And, of course, Joe Greenspan, the pride of Westfield soccer, as our sole representative at the major-league level. After graduating from WHS in 2011, Joe had a storied career at Navy, earning All-American honors as a junior and senior and leading the Mids to the school’s first NCAA tournament win in more than forty years. Military service delayed Joe’s professional career until 2015, when he joined Major League Soccer’s Colorado Rapids. He spent two years there before being traded to the Minnesota United for the 2017 season.

It’s a special feeling stepping onto the field with the likes of Joe and other WHS greats. But over the years, with the steady influx of fresh-faced alums, it's also become a marker of my age and declining ability. Think of it as the inversion of that Matthew McConaughey line from Dazed and Confused: “I get older, they stay the same age.” 

Talking ball with WHS alum and MLSer Joe Greenspan during a break in the action.

I remember a couple years back, my fitness at an all-time low, feeling depressed and demoralized after getting shellacked by the youngsters. Later that night, I showed a picture of Joe to my wife, an action shot from the Rapids website, his 6-foot 6-inch frame all power and muscle.  

“You’re comparing yourself to that guy?” she said.

She was right, of course. It’s tough to compete with players who are ten and twenty years younger, let alone those training at the highest level. Nevertheless, as I embarked on the Second Half, this became my mantra: wherever you play, be good enough to belong. It’s what motivated me to lose thirty pounds and train three times a week and take up yoga and cut out the booze and everything else that went into my holistic wellness program. 

Would it be enough?   

As the game got underway, the field felt twice as large as I remembered and the ball seemed to be jumping from foot to foot. My first instinct was to hang back, maybe on outside defense, where I’d do minimum damage. But as the minutes passed, I found myself pushing into the striker role that I’d owned as a kid, back when the stadium was still known as the Field House and the pitch was covered in patchy crabgrass instead of today's artificial turf.

I made more penetrating runs. I got a feel for the ball and confidence in my first touch. About twenty minutes in, Henry Smith, class of 2013 and Gettysburg College standout, slotted a nifty pass behind the defense. I ran onto the ball and took a touch towards the goal, then another. As I crossed into the penalty area, the keeper came out to shut down the angle. I took my shot. The ball skipped past his diving body and landed in the left hand corner of the goal.
                                        
“Good finish,” Joe said, as I made my way back to our side of the pitch.

After the match, which we took 4-2 (for the record!), I asked Joe what alumni day meant to him. He talked about the grind of professional play and how today’s game was different. “This is about having fun and reliving the glory days,” he said.

It struck me that, despite Joe's many feats at the college and professional level, high school soccer still meant something glorious to him. It’s not the same for me, only because I never reached my full potential as a player—even with the '91 state championship title from our magical senior-year season. Being a starter on that squad is still one of the great experiences of my life, but on an individual level, I know that I left too much on the field back then. 

That used to be a source of regret. But through the Second Half, I’ve been able to turn the lost youth into personal discovery. This year's alumni match was a chance to see what I’d come up with. Sure, the stakes were different; no all-state accolades or college rides on the line, and the only person shouting my name was my five-year-old son sitting up in the bleachers.

And yet, I was playing for much more—the conviction that I'd brought my best and it was enough for me to belong, and even break a scoreless tie with a clean-hit ball. It made me realize that glory is just a state of mind. On the Friday after Thanksgiving of my 44th year, a small sliver shot my way, with more to follow, if I'm able to handle it. 

With that, it’s time to get back to training. Only 362 days until the 2018 alumni game.