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Not Soccer Soccer Thorns

Don’t Let Anyone Tell You This Isn’t What it Looks Like

Note: this article contains transphobic and racist social media posts, including a manipulated photo showing a person in blackface, and discusses racist, transphobic, and anti-semitic right-wing rhetoric and violence.


You’ve heard, I’m sure, that the Portland Thorns—the organization currently led by two very nice Canadian women, one of whom said in her introduction to the press that she wanted to create “the most connected, purpose-driven club in the world”—chose a player named Sydny Nasello out of the University of South Florida in this year’s college draft. I imagine you’ve also seen the social media activity fans dug up the instant her name was called. In case you haven’t, here are some screenshots:

A screenshot of a tweet by @charliekirk11, which was retweeted by Sydny Nasello, reading, "Biological males who think they are girls should not be allowed to compete in sports against actual biological girls"

A tweet by @10TV, which was retweeted by Sydny Nasello, reading "7-year-old Texas boy raises $22,000 to help fund section of border wall" with a link to a news article and a photo of a boy at a table with signs reading "hot chocolate" and "proceeds help Trump build the wall"

A tweet by Donald Trump, Jr., which was retweeted by Sydny Nasello, reading "70 million pissed off republicans and not one city burned to the ground." The tweet is dated November 7, 2020.

I don’t know Nasello. I don’t know, when it comes down to it, exactly why she chose to retweet these things, nor do I know if her views have changed since the most recent one above, from November 7, 2020. But I have spent enough time on the internet to know that retweeting usually serves the purpose of amplifying a message that a user agrees with, and I am aware enough of our current political moment to know that these particular posts suggest a specific worldview. Everything I am about to say is based on that information.

Working with the assumption that retweets mean endorsement, let’s consider the three above one at a time.

The first one indicates that the retweeter denies the reality of trans identity. This is a belief so obviously harmful that it requires no further explanation.

The second one is a little harder to parse, but here I feel that a bare retweet, with no added comment, implies the retweeter has a positive view of the little boy raising money to build a 30-foot wall on our southern border.

The last one, by the former president’s greasy-haired son, no less, alludes to the widespread pro-racial justice, anti-police protests in the summer of 2020, equating anger over centuries of well-documented state-sanctioned violence against Black people with anger over an election that some people believe, without evidence, was stolen. It also alludes to baseless conservative claims that racial justice protesters turned many cities—Portland included—into smoking, lawless ruins ruled by roving antifa gangs.

If our assumption that the retweeter agrees with these things is correct, her views are firmly in line with those of the archetypal Trump voter. Not the reluctant fiscal conservative, not the ordinary rich person who doesn’t want to pay higher taxes; the flag-waving, grievance-driven fanatic.

These tweets reflect a worldview basically reducible to a single principle: no person or group of people has an inherent right to exist, much less the right to be treated with dignity and respect, to express themselves, to participate in the political process, to have complete bodily autonomy, to move freely, or to form associations with others as they choose to do so.

This view denies trans people the legitimacy of their lived and felt reality, denies people uprooted by conflict the right to seek asylum, and denies people living in extreme poverty the right to be treated like human beings at all. To people whose views are in line with these tweets, those rights are only accorded to those with the means to seize them, whether by physical, economic, or political power. To the extent that any person or group of people cannot do so, even (or perhaps especially) if that inability is caused by longstanding institutionalized oppression, this is taken as evidence of inherent inferiority and unworthiness not just of those rights, but ultimately of continuing to live.

Conveniently, there’s a word for this world view: fascism.

Again, it’s impossible to ascribe, with absolute certainty, a set of beliefs to someone you’ve never met, but everything I know about the world leads me to believe that someone who would amplify these messages on their personal social media probably thinks this way, broadly speaking.

A couple hours after she was drafted, Nasello tweeted a Notes app statement containing the kind of non-apology apology we expect from public figures who have been caught expressing views they still wholeheartedly embrace but fear will get them “canceled”:

Sydny Nasello's written statement, which reads: "First and foremost I want to thank the entire Portland Thorns organization for the opportunity to live out my dream! I am so excited to get to work with such an amazing club. To the fans, I want to start off with an apology. I am so excited to live in Portland and play in front of the best fans in the country. I never want to make anyone feel like they are not supported by me and I am so sorry I've done that. I am so pumped to be in the Rose City and compete for championships with new teammates and new coaches. I am most excited to continue growing as a person and learn as much as I possibly can from the people I'm surrounded by in Portland. GO THORNS (heart emoji) (rose emoji)"

Nasello can play coy all she wants. She can come up to the teacher’s desk and say “I’m sorry if I offended anyone” with her eyes shyly lowered while she fidgets her hands behind her back. But we all know, and I imagine she knows, that she’s dodging the real issue. The problem is not that she might, at some time, have made some abstract group of people feel “not supported.” The problem is that she has deliberately and repeatedly indicated that she believes some groups of people are inherently less valuable than others. If she does not hold that belief, I don’t know why she would have retweeted Charlie Kirk saying as much. If she’s changed her mind since then, surely she could have said so specifically in her statement.

There are also two Twitter “likes” by Nasello’s account that I want to highlight:

A tweet by @SaltyCracker9, which Sydny Nasello "liked," reading, "aoc trying to get that Coke endorsement." A photo shows a manipulated photo of Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez appearing to apply blackface makeup.

A tweet by Twitter user calzone MD, "liked" by Sydny Nasello, reading "this is the hardest line in the history of the presidency". A still image of a broadcast of Donald Trump speaking is included, with a closed caption that reads, "The doctors said they've never seen a body kill the Coronavirus like my body. They tested my DNA and it wasn't DNA. It was USA."

These stand out to me not because they express particularly more extreme or dangerous views than the three retweets I included above, but because of their tone. To me—again, because I have spent a fair amount of time on the internet and can recognize alt-right rhetoric—they add a particular hard edge to the basic outline illustrated by the retweets discussed above.

They are noteworthy because they exemplify what is perhaps the most terrifying aspect of the radical right as it currently exists in America: the way that to the extreme right’s adherents, all of this, the casual cruelty and dehumanization and undermining of democratic norms, is a big fucking joke. The modern right was birthed on the internet, by millions of people memeing about things like the Holocaust, trying to outdo one another in edginess, screaming racial slurs on Xbox Live, all for the lulz at first, until at some point the joke became, “let’s stage a torchlight march where we chant ‘Jews will not replace us,'” and the punchline had a body count.

Once again, I do not know Nasello’s intention here, but I think it’s fair to say that the act of clicking what’s called the “like” button usually indicates agreement or appreciation. So: in that light, let’s consider the two tweets above.

I will confess that I’m not sure what the joke is supposed to be in the first one. In part, it seems it’s simply intended to be shocking for the sake of being shocking. One point being made is that anyone (“libs”) who would feel belittled or insulted (“offended” or “triggered”) by blackface is clearly an idiot and therefore that blackface is inherently funny; all the more funny to portray one of the country’s best-known left-wing figures, a woman who presumably understands why blackface is harmful to Black people, wearing it.

There’s some second layer here, too. At the end of 2020, LeBron James’s longtime contract with Coca-Cola ran out, which I assume is the reference being made. I suppose we’re intended to make some connection between Black people (because James is Black, get it?) and Coke, something about how brands have given in to the Woke Mob and will now only endorse people of color. I think? If I’m right about that connection, there’s an added element about James being not just a very rich and famous Black man, but one who is fairly outspoken about racism, which racists do not like.

The joke is nonsensical, as far as I can tell, but in short, it mocks 1) the idea that racism is bad, 2) Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez thinking that racism is bad, and 3) corporations wanting to appear not to be racist.

The second tweet isn’t a joke so much as an exemplification of the way the online right expresses approval of its heroes, in slangy terms that gesture toward irony but, as with everything in this world, are anything but. Beating an antifa protester with a stick is termed “based,” while here Trump’s ultranationalist chest-thumping amid a deadly pandemic his administration exacerbated is “hard.” He’s just another memelord, in this view. Calling migrants rapists and criminals is a meme, sexual assault is a meme, racist violence is a meme.

That the views expressed in the posts I’ve included here reflect the outlook of a larger and larger majority of one of the two mainstream political parties in this country is irrelevant to the fact that this outlook is straightforward, by-the-book fascism. This is the single most vile and dangerous ideology that human beings have ever invented, and it’s here right now, and we cannot pretend that we don’t see it.

For the third time, let me reiterate that I don’t know Nasello, so to some degree, all this is conjecture. I think, however, that it’s quite reasonable, as conjecture goes.

And I want to be abundantly clear about the appropriate answer to a person who espouses this kind of extreme right ideology. There is no room for tolerance when it comes to fascism. Fascism is about power, and its proponents do not deal in good-faith dialogue and debate. This set of views is so dangerous not only because it involves wishing harm on certain groups of people; the additional danger is that it seeks to perpetrate that harm through the destruction of the democratic process and anyone who dissents. If we let ourselves be drawn into a facetious discussion about the legitimacy of these views, pretending that somewhere between “we should overthrow the government and install a white nationalist autocracy” and “all human beings are inherently valuable” lies a reasonable middle ground, we’ve already lost.

The Thorns say they didn’t know about all this before drafting Nasello. Fine; I have no reason not to believe them. That’s a serious unforced error, but fortunately it has a simple solution: the Thorns must release Nasello’s rights. An organization cannot seriously claim to respect the rights of women, Black and brown people, and the LGBT+ community while allowing someone with these views onto its payroll. In the Rose City, there is no football for fascists.

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Soccer Thorns

Thorns 2021 Draft Recap

Coming off of their strong 2021 season, the Thorns are retaining their core players, and weren’t looking for players in the 2021 NWSL college draft to make an impact right away. With a successful history of developing college players, the Thorns went for players who could add depth to their already deep roster. Here’s a rundown of their selections:

13th pick: Sydny Nasello, Forward, University of South Florida

Nasello has a public history of racism, transphobia, and xenophobia, which doesn’t with the “open” and “inclusive”—as new head coach Rhian Wilkinson described the team yesterday—culture on the Thorns. We’ll get into that more in a separate piece, but for now, her merits as a field player need to be evaluated separately.

A two-year first-team All American, Nasello has many personal accolades to her name. As a No. 11 forward at the University of South Florida, she had a 41% conversion rate, scoring 11 goals in the 2021 season. She is a strong passer and creates plenty of chances off a dribble. USF is consistently battling for the top of the American Athletic Conference (AAC), and Nasello has scored four game-winning goals to help send her team to the top, winning offensive player of the conference two times. USF lost in the first round of the NCAA tournament, which prevented Nasello from exhibiting her talents on the national stage. In order to fit in with the Thorns’ play, she will need to improve her crosses so as to not be wasteful in the final third. She will need to mature quickly to fit in with the Thorns, both on and off the field. Despite her stats, I don’t rate Nasello.

22nd pick: Gabby Provenzano, Defense/Midfield, Rutgers University

Rutgers has proved a successful college for the Thorns to draft from, with Madison Pogarch—along with the now-traded Amirah Ali—attending the school. Rutgers made it to the NCAA College Cup, falling in the semi-final game to eventual champions Florida State. Provenzano played primarily as a center back, a position where she can learn from The Great Becky Sauerbrunn and Emily Menges. An excellent passer, Provenzano boasts an 86% pass completion rate. Provenzano has received numerous individual awards throughout her time at Rutgers, recently earning All-American, Big 10, All Region, and NCAA College Championship first team honors for her role on the back line. Taking her fifth-year of eligibility due to COVID-19, Provenzano captained Rutgers for three seasons. Despite her holding-down of the backline aiding shutouts, she has posted five goals over her 103 career games. With both proven leadership and solid stats, Provenzano could be a great impact player for Portland—and has a high ceiling to grow. 

48th pick: Natalie Beckman, Forward, University of Denver

Beckman is an excellent pick late in the draft. She has posted incredible stats throughout her four years at University of Denver and has the potential to grow into an impact player if she gets a contract with Portland. While Beckman has posted 21 career goals, her 47 assists set a college record. Her crosses are always spot on, and her 78% passing completion rate confirms this. In a system with talented strikers like Morgan Weaver and Sophia Smith, Beckman could prove valuable in feeding balls into the attack. An All-American second-teamer, Beckman helped lead Denver to Summit League champions three times. Beckman is also a competent dribbler, able to get into tight spaces and get crosses off at the endline. She is a two-time Summit offensive player of the season and a two-time offensive player of the region. Playing in an elite-level system like the Thorns will help aid Beckman’s development greatly. 

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Not Soccer Soccer Thorns

The Three Marks of Existence

I tried to write about Mark Parsons, who recently completed his sixth and final season as the coach of the Portland Thorns. It didn’t work. Instead I just thought about the passage of time and my experience of it. That’s what this is:

Aniccā (Impermanence)

I was 16 the first time I felt old. I was in the hall at South Eugene High School and something involving a slightly younger person happened—I have completely forgotten what—but I remember with crystalline clarity that suddenly I felt like this:

The "Simpsons" characters Patty and Selma smoking cigarettes with bored looks on their faces

It’s absurd to feel old at 16, or perhaps any of the ages that I have been thus far. But the essence of feeling old has nothing to do with objective age. It’s about being old-er. Thus, it is possible to feel old at almost any age. One of the main ways to feel old is what I felt in the hallway that day: realizing that you know things that younger people do not.

Sometimes you look at a younger person and think, “How could you care so much about [thing]?” Sometimes you look at them and think, “Good lord, don’t do that.” Sometimes, a little cruelly, it’s “Just wait until [bad thing happens].”

The other face of feeling old (aside from mysterious bodily pain, which I would not experience until some years after the hallway incident) is the sense that the world and the people in it have shifted under your feet. You drive by a house you used to live in and it’s been painted and had all the leaky windows replaced, or it’s not a house at all anymore, it’s a condo. You go to a Thorns game and it hits you—feeling old always hits you all at once, never incrementally—that there are only two players on the roster who were there when you started your foolish little hobby of writing about them whether anybody wanted you to or not.

This is all a roundabout way of saying: things change. The “they knocked my old house down” feeling and the “what do you kids know” feeling are two sides of the same coin. Something goes away, something else gets renewed. Everything dies, and the wellspring of youth is infinite. That’s all you can count on.

Photo by Kris Lattimore
Anattā (Not-self)

Where is the essence of a soccer team to be found? Is it in the players? The stadium? The manager? The ownership? The fans? Clearly not: almost all of those things have changed for the Thorns over the last six years. If they are all changeable, how can we say that a club that exists today also existed nine years ago? 20? 100?

During the pandemic, I aged a good 10 years. That was the effect of more or less sitting in my house doing absolutely fuck all for something like 15 months. What I mean is that the experience was ultimately good for me.

For instance, one night last spring I realized that I’d been waking up with a vague fear tickling at the corners of my mind every day for months. Upon reflection, I realized that the fear was the fear of death, that it was probably time to deal with that fear head on, and further, that nothing in my life had given me the tools to do so. I decided to look for God.

In that hallway at South Eugene High School, 15 years ago (15 normal Earth years, not 15 pandemic years), I’d never have believed I would one day write that sentence. But I’m not that old-feeling 16-year-old anymore. You sit around long enough, becoming incrementally more Patty-and-Selma-like all the time, and eventually you might realize that the question—the question, the only question, the burning, impossible question—isn’t “does God exist,” or “what am I supposed to do while I’m here,” but “why is there something instead of nothing?” The answer to the question, which is unanswerable, is the thing we call “God.” That is what I have come to think, anyway.

I bring this up because 1) becoming curious about the nature of the universe was what led me, in a roundabout way, to the title and structure of this article, and 2) to illustrate that things will happen to you that you don’t expect. You will change in ways that might not make sense. This is both wonderful and terrifying: wonderful because it means that you are never stuck one way; terrifying because it also means that there’s no “you” to speak of, really. Not one that persists, or is under your control.

The me I was in 2007 is no more or less me than the one I was when I started to think about death last spring. The only one that exists at all is the one typing these words right now.

The Portland Thorns, too, are only ever exactly as they are in a given moment. There’s no higher level of abstraction. At one moment in 2016, they were this:

The 2016 Thorns after their semifinal loss to the Western New York Flash

Once earlier this year, they were this:

A screenshot showing Washington in their defensive shape, with Kelli Hubly, who is carrying the ball, being left open.

Another time, they were this:

Marissa Everett, Kelli Hubly, Meghan Klingenberg, Angela Salem, and Rocky Rodríguez celebrating
Photo by Matthew Wolfe

So right at this moment, what are the Portland Thorns? Where can I go to see them?

Inevitably, we have to conclude that they do not exist. We use their name as a semantic convenience, but it does not point to any continuous thing. The Thorns are not Mark Parsons, AD Franch, Midge Purce, or “Iko Iko”. Nor are they Sophia Smith, a big red drum, Gavin Wilkinson, Rhian Wilkinson, or even Christine Sinclair. They are not a pressing team or a counterattacking team. They are not defensively sound, nor do they have trouble finishing. They are simply there, or not.

Photo by Matthew Wolfe
Duḥkha (Suffering)

The supply of suffering is infinite. It is the sting of a playoff loss, the sunburn one gets at an afternoon game in August. It is when Tobin Heath’s rights get snapped up in an expansion draft for no good reason.

We cannot stop these things from happening (please do wear sunscreen). Pain will happen. Loss will happen. Suffering is adjacent, but different: its root is in clinging. We cling to players and coaches, clearly. We cling to the idea of winning everything, to the high of a championship, to the moment when a player is one on one with the keeper and is surely, surely going to score. There is nothing here (see above). It’s like trying to scoop up sand with a sieve. Once we understand this, we can begin to get free.

It is only in letting go that we can fully experience anything. If we relinquish expectation, we start to feel that the very fact of the game is a miracle. The weight and texture of the ball, the sun and the rain, the existence of feet. We see that the moment a player is one on one with the keeper is a spark of magic, regardless of what happens next (what happens next doesn’t exist, until it does). The goal itself is an unalloyed joy, if we let it stand by itself.

Even the pain of loss, if we look at it right, is a thing to experience, to open ourselves up to. It doesn’t last. Or you might feel it today, but not tomorrow, and then again the next day. It is not us.

In this way, nothing is ever old. Everything is as new as the moment when we take it in. The world is remade in each moment, and so are we. May we always remember this. May we never feel old.

Photo by Nikita Taparia
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Soccer Timbers

Timbers March Past Real Salt Lake Into MLS Cup

When Sebastián Blanco pulled up grabbing his hamstring early in the second half on Thanksgiving Day in Colorado, there were plenty who figured the Portland Timbers’ 2021 season was over.

It wasn’t a crazy thought. But then the Timbers, minus their chief attacking catalyst, grew stronger and stronger in that half and beat the Rapids 1–0.

The next day in Kansas City, ownerless, permanent manager-less Real Salt Lake upset Sporting, meaning that the Timbers would, improbably, host the Western Conference Final at Providence Park against a team they’d already beaten three times this year.

And then you could feel it, couldn’t you? That unmistakable sense that the stars were aligning, that these Timbers, all but given up for dead in August, were on a collision course with MLS Cup.

It didn’t hurt that the number one seed in the Eastern Conference, the New England Revolution, were upset on their home turf on Tuesday. That meant that all that stood between the Timbers and hosting their first major championship in club history was a fourth victory of the year over Real Salt Lake.

The Timbers entered Saturday afternoon’s match without Blanco, available only on the bench, and without Dairon Asprilla, suspended after being red carded in the waning moments of the win over the Rapids. In place of their two attacking stars, they inserted 24-year-old Marvin Loría for only his second start since mid-August and 21-year-old Santiago Moreno for just his fourth start ever with the team.

It was not by any measure the most talented Timbers team to ever grace the field in a playoff game. But there was that sense. Hundreds of people camped overnight outside the stadium. A huge tifo in the North End. And an opponent that, from the first minute, the Timbers looked like they could handle.

The Timbers played this game with relish. Not with overwhelming skill, not with sublime passing moves and sustained individual brilliance, but with tenacity and cohesion and confidence. That’s what wins you playoff matches—especially on turf, especially in the rain, especially in front of one of those ear-splitting Timbers crowds that has made Portland synonymous with soccer support in every corner of the world.

The kids weren’t overawed. The veterans didn’t give an inch. And now Portland is a week away from hosting MLS Cup against either Philadelphia or New York City in what will be one of the biggest sporting occasions in the history of the Rose City.

Early forecast for next Saturday? 43 degrees and cloudy. Chance of rain. Just the way we like it.

Salt Lake’s memorable playoff run, which saw them eliminate Seattle before they knocked out Kansas City, is over. After two monumental efforts, they rarely looked inventive enough to break the Timbers down. Of course, they never looked like they’d break the Sounders down either, but went through on penalties after failing to register a shot in 120 minutes In their first-round match.

On Saturday, they never had a chance to go that route. Just four and a half minutes into the game, Felipe Mora flicked a sharp entry pass into the box for Yimmi Chara to run into. His cross hit two Salt Lake players and skidded right into Mora’s path, and the Chilean, running towards the six-yard box, deflected it in.

The Providence Park crowd let out an almighty roar. Mora had hardly had time to break his running stride as the ball came flying at him, and it was the pace from the attempted outside-of-the-foot clearance from RSL’s Aaron Herrera that eventually carried the ball past David Ochoa. It was a dream start, one that would allow the Timbers to stay compact defensively and work with the space that RSL’s need for a tying goal would eventually open up.

Over the next half hour, the Timbers’ front four buzzed as RSL struggled to build fluidly from back to front. Moreno’s pace in particular was scrambling the Salt Lake defense, and it was the Colombian who had the best chance to double Portland’s lead after Ochoa palmed a Loría shot into the middle of the box, but he eventually fired over the bar.

It was after that warning shot that RSL finally found their footing in the game. They spent much of the half trying to work the left side of the Timbers’ defense with Anderson Julio and Herrera, and it was the fullback who opened up enough space to whip a cross towards the dangerous Damir Kreilach on 33 minutes, but Kreilach’s header from point blank range was stopped by Steve Clark.

It was a classic, show-stopping Clark save, and, in a week when people around MLS talked an awful lot about his opposite number,  Ochoa, a sudden reminder of what a truly game-changing goalkeeper can do for a playoff team.

RSL never got a better look. Though they closed the half in the ascendency, the Timbers were crowding them out of the middle of the field and limiting their ability to play between lines. Their attacking fulcrum Albert Rusnak, who missed the first two games of the playoffs with COVID-19, couldn’t get himself going. Nick Belser, the former Timbers draft pick, was struggling with the pace of the game in central midfield. And the Timbers kept running hard, avoiding mistakes, and waiting for a moment to stretch their lead.

It came on the hour mark. Dario Zuparic lofted a ball towards Moreno in midfield that the winger controlled off his chest, dribbled forward, and, from 25 yards out, ripped towards goal. The shot thudded off the post, hit the diving Ochoa in the back, and nestled in the back of the net.

It was total bedlam. The Timbers’ bench exploded. Ochoa laid flat on the turf, hands covering his face. Moreno ran to the corner with his shirt off, all 5’8 of him flexing for the cameras.

It was over. Salt Lake, never a sure bet to get a single goal, weren’t going to get two. A quarter of an hour from time, Herrera, perhaps still frustrated by his fifth minute mistake, lunged in on Loría and was rightly shown a second yellow card.

RSL finished their season with ten players on the field, out of luck and out of gas. Ochoa needed to make a diving save to deny what would have been a roof-raising third goal from a Diego Valeri free kick in stoppage time, and with Alan Kelly’s whistle several minutes later, the Timbers clinched the Western Conference title for the third time in seven years.

If there were any question marks about the state of the Timbers heading into this game, they were answered emphatically. They played like a big team. It didn’t matter which players were and weren’t available—and there can be no greater compliment to a coaching staff or a group of players.

To Zuparic and Larrys Mabiala, who hardly put a foot wrong in central defense all night. To Clark, who improbably will get a second shot at MLS Cup with the team he unforgettably lost his first chance to six years ago. To Diego Chará, who was sensational in the middle of the field. Certainly to all of the role players who looked like they’d played in this game a hundred times over, and to Giovani Savarese, who has once again dialed up an extraordinary cup run.

The magic is real. MLS Cup in Portland. Next Saturday.

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Soccer Timbers

Timbers, Real Salt Lake Prepare to Defy the Odds Again

The Portland Timbers and Real Salt Lake will meet Saturday for the Western Conference Final in what is both simultaneously one of the biggest and most improbable games in the history of Providence Park.

To say that neither team should be alive at this advanced stage of the MLS postseason is nearly reductive. That the Timbers were seeded fourth and Salt Lake seventh for this tournament does not begin to communicate just what each team has survived to keep playing into December.

RSL, for its part, may be the single most extraordinary story in major American sports right now. The club hasn’t had an owner all year. Their manager quit in the middle of the season to become an assistant coach for a conference rival. Their interim manager was the former captain and manager of their biggest rival. They snuck into the postseason with a stoppage time goal on the final day of the regular season in Kansas City. They then went to Seattle in the first round of the playoffs, failed to register a shot in roughly 125 minutes of play, and knocked out the Sounders on penalties.

They then went back to Kansas City, fell behind in the first half, pulled themselves level in the second half, and got another stoppage time winner from ex-US national team forward Bobby Wood to advance to the conference final.

They’ve won both postseason games with their best player and captain, Albert Rusnak, missing due to COVID-19. To make it to MLS Cup, RSL will have to travel to the most intimidating environment in MLS and beat a team that has already handed them three losses this year.

This stuff just doesn’t happen in other leagues. Not with the regularity that it does in MLS, where the top seed in each conference fell in their first postseason match and unfavored road teams have won four of the last five playoff games.

It simply doesn’t sense. Any of it. And that is why plenty of neutral observers like Salt Lake to upset the Timbers in the West and NYCFC to upset Philadelphia in the East and MLS Cup to be contested in a baseball stadium by an ownerless team and a team owned by the City Football Group on December 11.

Thing is, while the Timbers’ arrival at this stage of the postseason is not nearly as unexpected, the suddenness of the club’s surge and amount of adversity they’ve overcome this year is similarly extraordinary.

Individually, this Timbers team has relatively few standout performers as compared to other Timbers teams that have made playoff runs. Beyond Diego Chará and Sebastián Blanco there are only a handful of above-average players, and plenty of average ones too.

But like a number of other Giovani Savarese teams, the Timbers have refused to die this year. Their second-half revival started when they went to Seattle and beat the high-flying Sounders 2–0 in the game in which Eyrk Williamson tore his ACL a week after getting trounced in Austin, and that victory set the tone.

They went undefeated for the next month and a half before imperiling their playoff positioning with three straight losses in October. They responded to that adversity by winning their final three regular season games by a combined score of 8–1. They’ve now conceded only two goals in their last five games after conceding seven in the three games before that.

The underlying numbers hated the Timbers all year. It didn’t matter. They over-performed those numbers and have continued to over-perform them right into pole position to host MLS Cup.

Of course, the Timbers’ resurgence in the fall coincided with Blanco’s return to full fitness—and when he pulled up clutching his hamstring in Colorado on Thanksgiving in a scoreless game, it seemed very much like the team’s season would go down with him.

But it very much did not. With Blanco’s season likely over, the Timbers didn’t miss a beat. They only grew in strength and belief throughout that second half against the Rapids, and by the times Larrys Mabiala jabbed home the winning goal, it was entirely deserved.

Now the Timbers will be without both Blanco and Dairon Asprilla, undeservedly red-carded in the dying moments of the semifinal victory. They’ll have to rely on a pair of young, mostly unproven backup wingers for offensive punch on Saturday, or recall aging club legend Diego Valeri. No matter how Savarese decides to play his curtailed hand, the Timbers will relish the opportunity in front of them. The higher the level of doubt this year, the better they have played.

It is perhaps little wonder that it is two likable, fiery, longtime MLS battlers in Savarese and Mastroeni who will square off on Saturday. There may be better soccer minds in the league, but there are few people better equipped to ride the maelstrom of chaos that defines so many playoff runs. Some managers seize up under that pressure. Even the great Bruce Arena was slow to change a failing plan in New England’s loss on Tuesday night. These two have, somehow, figured it out so far.

Savarese has a big personnel decision ahead of him this weekend with Blanco and Asprilla out. Mastroeni does too. His DP Rusnak should make the trip to Portland and be available for selection on Saturday, though it’s an open question whether he’ll be inserted back into a starting lineup that has momentum after a long layoff.

RSL will also be missing their ace defensive midfielder, Everton Luiz, who was booked in both the Seattle and SKC games. He’ll be a big absence for the visitors, whose defense, now set up in banks of four, has been their calling card so far.

What happens next in this off-the-hook, quintessentially MLS postseason? You tell me. The form book says Portland. Past history says Portland. Home advantage says Portland. And it said Seattle and Kansas City before that, so there is no reason to believe that Salt Lake will arrive cowed.

But the Timbers have played with, dare we say, an air of inevitability about them for much of the fall. Timely offense, timely defense, and, when they’ve needed it most, a steadfast refusal to be knocked off stride.

It has not, it is worth highlighting again, been an easy year in  Portland. Investigations into GM Gavin Wilkinson for his role in the Paul Riley abuse coverup are ongoing, as is the pandemic that has devastated so many lives and kept so many away from the stadium. This, though, what we’re about to see on Saturday, is a reminder of what makes this sport such an unparalleled thrill: a proper occasion featuring two teams that have played so far beyond reasonable expectations that expectations have ceased to be reasonable.

They think they might just win it. This year.