I'm utterly whacked, it's 1:15 in the morning, and I have to get some sleep.
But I can't.
Because tonight was one of those times when you feel like your skin is electric; you are shot full of energy like the glowing filament of an incandescent light. As tired as I am I'm still floating and I haven't come down.
Because 18,000 other people and I made the old Civic Stadium rock and roar like it was a living creature and a thunderous one, at that.
Because something as simple and fundamentally silly as eleven men kicking a ball made the heavens open amid the thunder of drums and the songs of thousands of voices.
Because for just a moment, the brightly-lit turf seemed so green, so pure, that you felt like if you could step out onto it you could run and run and never tire. That you could sing and shout and your voice would never crack and never fail.
Because the supporters sang their love of the Game, and the Team, and the team took that love and made it a force, gave it hearts and lungs and legs and sent it flying into the night sky and left us all shattered and hoarse, reveling in the love, and the joy of victory hard-won, and the almost-frightening power of the voice of that love that rose up over the darkened city, over the streets and bridges, over the rivers and the wooded mountains and the cold peaks glimmering under the stars until the daylight returns to awaken us all to our daily lives again.
Because...
There's a party in Portland;
Nobody's sleeping tonight.
But I can't.
Because tonight was one of those times when you feel like your skin is electric; you are shot full of energy like the glowing filament of an incandescent light. As tired as I am I'm still floating and I haven't come down.
Because 18,000 other people and I made the old Civic Stadium rock and roar like it was a living creature and a thunderous one, at that.
Because something as simple and fundamentally silly as eleven men kicking a ball made the heavens open amid the thunder of drums and the songs of thousands of voices.
Because for just a moment, the brightly-lit turf seemed so green, so pure, that you felt like if you could step out onto it you could run and run and never tire. That you could sing and shout and your voice would never crack and never fail.
Because the supporters sang their love of the Game, and the Team, and the team took that love and made it a force, gave it hearts and lungs and legs and sent it flying into the night sky and left us all shattered and hoarse, reveling in the love, and the joy of victory hard-won, and the almost-frightening power of the voice of that love that rose up over the darkened city, over the streets and bridges, over the rivers and the wooded mountains and the cold peaks glimmering under the stars until the daylight returns to awaken us all to our daily lives again.
Because...
There's a party in Portland;
Nobody's sleeping tonight.
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