This post is my attempt to release some nervous energy today in light of the events that killed a young woman and put Charlie Davies in surgery for six hours; I won't be offended if you don't like it or even read it, but please refrain from any negative comments. This blog, at its very core, is an outlet for all of the thoughts that rattle around my head on a daily basis. Today, those thoughts are less about soccer than they are about life, and so I apologize for the brief interruption in the usual content. Thank you.
When real life intrudes on our sports, it's often in a harsh and jarring manner. We like our sporting heroes to be untouchable, invincible, and everlasting. Even though we know that reality is much different, we trick ourselves into believing that glory won on the field creates a virtual shield around men who just like us, are flesh and bone.
This morning's news that rising American star Charlie Davies was involved in a car accident that killed one woman and seriously injured Davies and another passenger, is a perfect example of that unwelcome "real life". Until the news broke, courtesy of several journalists covering the US National Team as they prepare for tomorrow's final World Cup qualifier, Davies was simply a talented young player who had captured the imagination and unwavering support of America's soccer-loving public; "real life", i.e., anything that removed Davies from the athlete bubble we all put him in, didn't exist. Despite the fact that star athletes have been in situations like today's countless times before, it's a shattering blow each and every time.
Charlie came out of nowhere in the course of the last year, bursting on to the international soccer scene with speed and attacking flair that matched an attitude that perfectly complimented fellow starlet Jozy Altidore. Together with Jozy, Charlie represented a new wave of American talent, young and hip, and destined for great things. US National Team fans, many of whom wouldn't know Jay-Z if he knocked on their front door and broke into the lyrics of "99 Problems", embraced Charlie and the enthusiasm he showed on the field with his funky "Stanky Leg" goal celebration dance.
As of this writing, Charlie is out of surgery at Washington Hospital Center in DC and is listed in serious condition. His injuries appear to be severe, and it's unclear how they might affect his playing career. While a premature end to Charlie's burgeoning stardom would be unfortunate and a significant blow the US National Team, it would by no means be a "tragedy". "Tragedy" is best reserved to describe the loss of the young woman in the car with Charlie, who was declared dead on the scene; it's too often these type of events, which we pray will never happen but too often do, serve to remind of those small distinctions.
And so I write, attempting to explain these things not only to you, but to myself. It's what I do, particularly when I'm confounded for a way to even understand my own feelings. If this rambles, makes little sense, or seems to go no where, it's because I'm doing my best to just let the words flow out and do the work of conveying some perspective without really attempting to artificially mold them. The bottom line, the thing my brain is telling me even while I wonder about the US World Cup hopes, is that football is not life, no matter how much it might feel that way.
It's a sad day for American soccer, a sadder day for the family of Ashley Roberta, and a hell of a day to be a blogger. I don't know Charlie, and I'm willing to bet neither do you. But the game, the team, and our passion cause us to feel that way, even if only a little; for that reason, today is for me a day to worry about Charlie getting back to being a healthy and happy man, never mind a fully fit soccer player.
End of release.
I'm continuing to update the original post on Charlie's accident, and will do so as long as possible tonight.
Looks like I need to close comments on this post as well.
