Categories
Not Soccer Thorns Timbers

Race in the 107IST: “We Can Do Better”

Disclosure: Jennifer Ingraham, a 107ist board member, also serves as a copy editor for Rose City Review. She was not involved in the creation of this piece in any way.

On June 1, Milo Reed published a post on Medium, detailing his experiences as a Black capo in the Timbers Army and member of the 107 Independent Supporters Trust—the nonprofit organization that coordinates both the TA and the Rose City Riveters.

Reed describes an instance from 2018, in which the 107IST Board of Directors deleted a blog post that they, a group of non-Black people, deemed to be offensive to the Black community. However, Reed, “felt that the post was not problematic & urged the 107ist board to consult communities of color before speaking for them.” He also requested the Board share a copy of his email; Reed points out that, a couple of months later, a white capo was allowed to share their own thoughts about race “on the same website [Reed] was denied access to.”

According to Reed’s post, the Board asked him to explain his requests to them at their next meeting, less than 48 hours in advance. Based on the context of the invitation, Reed believed it to be “disingenuous” and “like [the meeting] was going to be an interrogation as opposed to a conversation.”

“I can’t count the number of times I have brought a plan, concern, or proposal to a 107ist board member only to be given a metaphorical pat on the head, a terse rejection or worst of all ignored,” writes Reed. “This has only intensified in the last couple of months. I have told several people they have behaved in ways that were disrespectful & patronizing since March, only to be told ‘I’m sorry you feel that way.'”

Three days after Reed published his story, the 107IST Board shared a response, acknowledging their failure to listen to BIPOC voices in the TA and RCR—although doing so without explicitly mentioning Reed or his own blog—and declaring a commitment to publicize a detailed anti-racism plan within the next 30 days.


Reed’s post came in the wake of the murder of George Floyd, in the midst of global protests against police brutality and systemic racism and calls that Black lives matter. (“If Black Lives Matter what about Black voices?” Reed asks.)

The outcry—and wave of public statements from their Black members—has pressured many organizations to examine the role of race within the spaces they inhabit.

When examining the role of racism within these spaces, it’s important to first acknowledge that we live in a society that’s systems of power and organization were created by white people who often strove to exclude people of color. Whether through the institution of slavery, segregationist policy, or simply hostile attitudes that targeted BIPOC, they conveyed that people of color were not welcome.

Although many of these laws have been repealed, these spaces cannot be separated from their racist origins. When those in charge do not attempt to reconcile with and actively combat this racist past, those same systems of inequity remain unchecked. We see them perpetuated in the racial wage gap, in the small number of people of color—especially Black and Indigenous people, especially Black and Indigenous women—that hold leadership positions in companies, in the over-policing and mass incarceration of BIPOC, and in countless other areas of everyday life. As Simone Charley points out, these “power structures [are] so ingrained in society that to question them is to question yourself.”

Like many organizations across the United States, the TA and the 107IST are a product of the society that they belong to. Regardless of self-proclaimed anti-racism and anti-fascism, members not immune to intrinsic bias; Reed’s story shows as much. And, as tends to be the case with systemic racism, his experience is not an isolated occurrence.


When I first moved to Portland in 2016, I didn’t know a single person there,” says Chelsea Waddell, a member of the 107IST, “definitely not anyone in the soccer community.” She recalls going to the 107IST website and reading about the group. Something stuck out to her on the 107IST’s “About Us” page: “We have always said that if you want to be Timbers Army then you already are […] Since 2013, the same has been true for the Rose City Riveters.”

I was like, wow, what a cool sentiment,” Waddell says. “You don’t have to be anyone special or do anything to be part of this organization.

“I think you’re immediately accepted when you walk into that group,” she continues. “There’s no prior judgment of who you are because of who you are. If you’re a member of the LGBTQ+ community, which I am, and a person of color and a woman—I’m really hitting the triple threat there—you can walk in and really be embraced, but I feel like only if you agree with everybody else all the way through.”

Anabel Ramirez, who was a regular presence in the North End for roughly ten years, feels similarly about her experience in the TA. “I got hooked into it,” she says. “It felt like a cult fervor when you first join in, and you want everything: you want all the scarves, you want all the patches, you know all the chants. You get really clicked into this idea that it is a collective, and then it doesn’t feel so collective in certain aspects.”

Both Ramirez and Waddell believe that this sense of collectiveness is enforced by the unspoken expectations in the TA, and, to a lesser extent, the Riveters: standing and chanting together, cheering on the team, and staying off your phone. For those involved outside of games, it’s volunteering your time and money, helping in the creation of tifos, and contributing to 107IST fundraisers for other nonprofits around Portland.

Photo by Matthew Wolfe

However, unspoken rules can lead those who are unaware of them, or simply wish to express their support in a different way, to feel as if they don’t belong. This is only accentuated for BIPOC fans who are already navigating a very white space.

In trying to be this cohesive North End voice, they stamp out a lot of other voices,” Ramirez observes. “I don’t think a lot of them see themselves as stamping out specifically Black and Brown and Asian voices, but it happens.”

Ramirez points to the fact that many of her BIPOC friends don’t feel welcome in the TA—from those who simply don’t want to acknowledge the group after they displayed the Sunshine Flag, to the large numbers of Latinx families who show up at Timbers 2 matches, but not Timbers games. She, herself, felt uncomfortable in the TA unless she was with a certain group of friends.

As a Black woman, Waddell perceives the racial diversity of the TA and RCR to be similar to that of Portland, a city that is known for being very white.

To Jake Payne and Phil Bridges, this problem isn’t exclusive to Portland. The two are co-founders of Black Fires, a Black supporters group for both the Chicago Fire and the Chicago Red Stars. “You see this with a lot of supporters groups around the league,” Payne points out, “of saying that you’re inclusive and diverse, but your stands don’t really reflect that. I think that’s something that more than Section 8 or Timbers Army or anyone need to look at […] like, okay, if we’re that inclusive, why don’t our stands reflect what our values are?”

Bridges points to the fact that, in Chicago, it took over 20 years for a real push to make the stands more diverse—both in terms of LGBT and BIPOC fans—to actually happen. “You have just a lot of people who love the idea of saying that they’re diverse,” he says. “They love the idea of that, they seem open, they love talking about it, they love feeling that way, but when it comes to actually putting in the work to make sure that happens, it’s totally different.”

One of the factors is how a club markets itself. “There is the reality of soccer’s not as big as it should be in the Black community in the United States,” Payne acknowledges. On the other hand, he notes that Chicago’s clubs weren’t actively trying to engage with the Black community until Black Fires called on them to do so.

It’s really liberating to be able to make the experience what you’ve always wanted it to be,” says Payne, “but it’s also very frustrating, because you have to constantly almost drag people to care about this in a genuine way.”

Before the COVID-19 pandemic, one of the ways Black Fires was working to reach prospective fans was through watching games with them. Payne explains that the majority of the bars that Fire supporters frequent are in the north side of the city, which is more white. “What’s a bar [where] we can watch in the south side?” he asks. “What’s a bar where we can watch that’s Black-owned or in a Black neighborhood, so that we can be more present?”

Payne thinks this engagement is an important step beyond a trap that many fall into—fans or otherwise. Too often, he points out, “donating takes the place of actually reaching out to communities that need it and making a connection.”

Both Ramirez and Waddell notice this within the TA and RCR. “I don’t feel like they are actively fighting for people of color,” Waddell says. “I think they are passively allowing them to be a part of it, and openly embracing different people, but never going any deeper than that.”

As an example, she and Ramirez point to the 107IST’s donation drives for other nonprofits in Portland.

I do think that the organization can be a little bit show-y, white savior-y, performative,” acknowledges Waddell. “In football culture, being antifascist and fighting for marginalized people is really, really cool, but I feel like we do it just because it’s cool […] There’s just not a lot of substance there.

“It doesn’t really matter if you can fly a certain flag or wear or display a certain symbol if you’re not doing other things to support that fight. It’s just a symbol.”

Photo by Matthew Wolfe

In her time with the 107IST Outreach Committee, Ramirez notes that the group would donate to organizations without making any effort to engage with the communities that those organizations represented. She explains that this was one of the main reasons she ended up leaving the committee. At the time, Ramirez said as much to the 107IST, but didn’t feel like anyone was paying attention.

I feel like every time I would go and try to make a suggestion of some sort—it was either because I was female or because I was Latina or probably the combo—that I wasn’t getting listened to,” she says.

For Waddell, this failure to listen to BIPOC voices became evident during the discourse around the Iron Front last summer. “Obviously, this was a really passion-driven discussion, but from where I sit, part of that fight was to ‘protect’ me,” she says. “I feel like there was no space given to the people that people were fighting for.

I just, as a person of color, didn’t see how displaying a symbol would change anything for me,” Waddell explains. “I think that’s kind of the discussion we’re at this summer, on a bigger scale, is that it’s not displaying a symbol that makes people feel safer; it’s action and words and listening to them.” While she wanted to express this at the time, she was afraid of the backlash she would face for presenting an opinion that differed from the group’s.

That fear of retaliation was validated by Reed’s post, by his stories of trying to speak up and the resistance he faced. “It was brave of him to even try,” Waddell says, “and still no one listened.”

When Reed was offered an opportunity to communicate with the 107IST Board, it was on short notice and in a space of the Board’s own creation. “[It’s] like, ‘yeah, we will listen to you,'” describes Payne, “‘but only in these predefined structures that we feel work, this is how we’ll listen to you.'”

Payne acknowledges that a refusal to listen to BIPOC voices unless they’re speaking in white-created spaces is a systemic issue: “I think that’s how a lot of places operate, not just in soccer, and it’s just not right.”

To Payne, now is a perfect time to examine the ways in which any organization perpetuates systemic racial inequity—intentionally or not. “[The] Timbers Army is just in the spotlight because they had the most public thing about it,” he says. “Plenty of other groups operate like this right now, and I think this is a good time—with it being a ‘break in society,’ with not many supporter initiatives happening—for any group, NWSL, MLS, USL, to really be thinking about, ‘okay, how are we operating?’ Especially the older groups, like Timbers Army or like Section 8: ‘this is how we’ve been operating, but is it the right way to operate?’ I think that really needs to be a big question going forward.”


“We are […] evaluating the different committees within the organization, looking to create more transparency and points of entry,” says Gabby Rosas, the newly-appointed president of the 107IST Board.

In the follow-up report from the 107IST, she shared the Board’s plan to reevaluate different areas of their operations. These include a BIPOC committee, a list of the specific places the Board is hoping to address, a summary of the outside groups the Board has formed partnerships with, and a handful of suggested books, podcasts, and movies.

“Personally, I have been reflecting on my own pathways into the organization, my own decision to run for the board, and advantages I’ve had as a white-passing person in Portland,” says Rosas, when asked about the work she’s done to examine the role of whiteness in the 107IST. “This is a large organization with many people who care passionately about the Timbers, the Thorns, supporter culture, and the community. It can be very intimidating, and I have not done a good job of recruiting and sustaining their participation, I should have been more extroverted when it comes to getting others involved in all aspects of what this organization does.”

She points to the barriers of entry that exist within the organization focusing on the time commitment asked of those involved. “There are many barriers to entry and advancement, from the supporter group involvement to the board election,” she explains. “I have been and will continue to identify barriers and address them.”

For Waddell, the hours asked of the BIPOC team was a major reason she didn’t join when invited. “I don’t really have time to volunteer to teach this Board how to just listen to people of color,” she says. “And I think there’s a lot more going on within the organization that they need to do to support people of color, but […] there’s no class you need to take or book you need to read or podcast you need to listen to to understand how to just listen to someone when they speak.”

The other factor was money. The BIPOC committee, like other 107IST committees and Board positions, is run by volunteer work. However, Waddell currently does diversity, equity, and inclusion work for her job, and felt it wasn’t worth taking on additional emotional labor—especially, for free.

Photo by Matthew Wolfe

The BIPOC team shares that they now have 20 members on board, 10 of whom are currently actively involved. According to the 107IST update post, the committee has met twice so far. They “plan on meeting again soon while we work on our mission statement and other tasks that include the board.”

When asked about how the member-led BIPOC committee will remain impartial in their evaluation of the 107IST, Rosas says: “Everyone’s experience with this organization is valuable, be it positive or negative, or if they are a member or non-member. We are also not opposed to working with other local groups for guidance and insight as this committee is formed.”

The committee is not following a specified timeline, but Rosas explains that the Board isn’t planning to sit around and wait. “The hope is that as we work to remove barriers for entry and highlight different pathways in our organization, we can do so in such a way that will address the needs of marginalized groups,” she says. “As we work on change, we will be doing so at a pace where we can check in with our community, including the BIPOC team, and local organizations that have offered their support. Our goal is to be able to incorporate the feedback and tasks from the BIPOC team as they want to provide it.”

One of the ways Rosas hopes to do this is by increasing the accessibility of Board meetings. “We have never had the attendance at another board meeting like we did the June meeting,” she shares, a meeting that happened virtually to accommodate for the COVID-19 pandemic. In response, the 107IST is moving their monthly meetings to online, accessible spaces. Rosas points specifically to Google Meet, which offers closed-captioning.

As another area of focus, she hopes to more actively work with local organizations that serve BIPOC communities and other marginalized groups. “If we can increase our engagement, both through volunteering and by inviting them to 107ist events, we will hopefully be able to improve the accessibility to joining the Rose City Riveters, Timbers Army, and 107ist,” she says.

To open up space for BIPOC voices, former 107IST Board member Ray Terrill stepped down from his position and asked that his spot to be filled by a person of color. Sherrilynn “Sheba” Rawson also resigned her presidency to Rosas, although Rawson remains on the Board.

For Ramirez, those changes aren’t good enough. “Until there are at least three seats on the board filled by BIPOC, I don’t think they can move forward on this,” she says.

Rosas believes that we’ll see that shift later in the year. She explains that, as advised by Western States Center’s Eric Ward, many members have chosen “to not resign but to work on the changes until BIPOC appointments can be made or elected.”

Come Board elections in November and December, Rosas thinks the leadership changes will materialize. “I imagine that a number of board members will either choose to not re-run or step down at that time,” she says. “We will actively work with the BIPOC team should individuals want to join the board. We not only want BIPOC members on the board but also on all of the committees throughout the organization.”

Key to this will be accountability; the 107IST will have to prove that they’re seeking out and paying attention to BIPOC voices going forward. “I think a major way to prove the 107ist board is actually listening is to make changes based on what is heard and then to keep checking in to see if the changes have had an impact,” says Rosas. “I expect that many aspects of the change that is needed will not be one and done.”

Whether or not those changes play out in meaningful ways remains to be seen. However, BIPOC fans speaking up now hope that, this time, listening to their stories is a first step.

“I really love this organization,” says Waddell. “I love the team, every single player, everybody who’s at the games, everybody who’s watching from home. It means a lot to me, and that’s why I do want to speak about it. It’s not out of hate, it’s out of we can do better, and we need to do better, and we have the passion to be better […] I really do love this organization and these groups, and everything I’m saying is out of the understanding that we can be better. We have to.”

Categories
Not Soccer

A Message to My Fellow White Portlanders

For the last few days, we at the Rose City Review have been talking about how to approach what is happening in America today—the collective explosion of grief and anger over the murders of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and of so many other Black Americans before them, at the hands of a racist police system.

One thing was clear to all of us: we can’t sit back and pretend this has nothing to do with us, simply because we cover soccer. Sports don’t exist outside of society at large. We don’t get to use them as an escape when people are fighting for their lives.

So the next question was what we, as non-Black people, can and should do in this space. My first impulse was to simply make a public donation to Don’t Shoot PDX (made possible by your Patreon contributions), use our site and Twitter feed to amplify Black voices, and say little else. But I think that’s a cop-out. We don’t want to talk over Black people, and we don’t want to make this about us or our feelings; at the same time, being afraid of making those mistakes is a comfortable way for us (and by us I mean both the writers at this site and all non-Black people) to opt out of the personal responsibility we all bear when it comes to dismantling white supremacy.

Here’s the thing: there are reasons that as a publication in Portland, specifically, our staff is four-fifths white, with no Black contributors. There are reasons the Timbers Army and Rose City Riveters are overwhelmingly white. I think—I hope—that acknowledging those reasons is a good place to start this discussion.

A very brief history lesson on racism in Portland

Portland is the whitest major city in America. This is not an accident. When Oregon became a state in 1859, its constitution explicitly forbade Black people from living, working, or owning property within its borders. The 14th Amendment invalidated that law, but it remained formally on the books until 1926—and Oregon itself didn’t ratify the 14th and 15th Amendments until 1973 and 1959, respectively.

The message was clear: people of color were not welcome in Oregon. Racist whites, on the other hand, very much were welcome. According to Walidah Imarisha, an educator and expert on Black history in Oregon, in the 1920s, it was not the deep south, but Oregon, where the Ku Klux Klan had the highest per-capita membership in the country.

During World War II, Portland became a shipbuilding hub, and as workers were drawn to the city to work in the shipyards—and as Black people moved north and west as part of the Great Migration—the Black population grew from 2,000 to 20,000. Many of those workers and their families lived in the racially segregated Vanport housing development. When Vanport was destroyed in a 1948 flood, displaced Black residents moved to redlined Albina, which, under a policy of the Portland Realty Board, was the only neighborhood in the city where people of color were allowed to buy homes.

Over the ensuing decades, Albina—like Black neighborhoods in cities across the country—came to be seen as “blighted” and was targeted for a series of “urban renewal” projects that displaced residents and fragmented the community. The Memorial Coliseum, I-5, and Highway 99 were all built in the 1950s on land Black residents had been forcibly displaced from. In the 60s, more than 1000 housing units in the heart of the Black community were destroyed to build Emanuel Hospital, a “classic top-down planning effort,” according to urban planning professor Karen J. Gibson (I encourage you to read that entire article, which I am summarizing here).

By the 90s, systemic disinvestment, predatory lending practices, and redlining by conventional banks had led to widespread abandonment of housing and prevented Black residents from getting loans to buy and repair homes in their own community. The City of Portland stepped in—partially at the behest of community activists—foreclosing on abandoned houses and cracking down on banks that refused to lend to potential buyers in the area. But rather than benefitting the Black community, these changes meant a flood of white buyers snapping up cheap property in what are, geographically, desirable central-city neighborhoods, while Black residents were largely displaced to far-flung areas in east Portland and Gresham.

That legacy of racism, of the systematic exclusion and displacement of Black communities in our state and city, lives on today.

Homelessness, Portland’s most visible injustice, disproportionately impacts people of color. Black people in Portland have long faced physical violence at the hands of both the police and white supremacists outside police ranks. The Portland Police Bureau’s euphemistically named Gun Violence Reduction Team—formerly called the Gang Enforcement Team—was found by a 2018 audit to be disproportionately stopping Black motorists, often using minor traffic violations as a pretext, and with no evidence showing that they effectively targeted gang members. Police shot and killed 17-year-old Quanice Hayes in 2017 and the city spent three years blaming his mother for his death.

Racism is a Portland issue.

What does this have to do with me?

I say all this because no conversation about race in this city can happen without acknowledging not only the existence of this racist history, but the fact that white people—all of us—have benefitted from it. Here’s just one example: as Gibson points out, part of what makes Portland such a desirable place to live is its urban growth boundary, which constrains sprawl, makes walking and biking feasible, and means natural spaces are a short drive away from anywhere in the city.

It also means that space for housing is limited. Centrally located Albina, Gibson contends, was likely always destined for gentrification. If you can afford to live in Portland, this has benefited you directly.

That’s just one of the myriad ways white people everywhere benefit from white supremacy; we also have access to vastly higher generational wealth, are arrested and convicted of crimes at lower rates, don’t face housing discrimination, and are much less likely to die at the hands of a police officer. Our children go to better-funded schools and are disciplined at lower rates. That’s a scratch in the surface.

What does this have to do with soccer?

The soccer community in Portland is many things. For me, a queer white woman, it’s been a very welcoming space. It’s a space inhabited by people who tend to proudly call themselves anti-fascist and anti-racist. People in this space do genuine good work for the community. It’s also—like most things in this city—overwhelmingly white, and often willfully ignorant of its own blind spots and how those lead to complicity with racism.

Here is a fact: if you’re white, you have not personally been harmed by fascist policies in this country. Waving the Iron Front flag, and waging a fight for your right to keep waving it, is a fine gesture, and not one without importance, but ultimately it’s just that—a gesture. It is not the same as supporting the communities actually impacted by state-sanctioned violence.

Here is another fact: white people, before we do anything else, have a responsibility to listen to and elevate the voices of people of color, especially Black people. We cannot wave our hands in the general direction of equality and pretend that all oppressions are equal. We need to put people of color—especially women and queer and trans people of color—in positions of power. A community organization whose leadership is entirely white cannot seriously claim to be anti-racist. Especially when people of color within the organization are being ignored.

Finally, soccer in America is a pay-to-play sport designed to funnel rich white players to the top levels at the expense of players from marginalized communities. When we talk in lofty tones about the unifying power of the world’s game, but gloss over the reality of the sport on the ground in this country, we are being dishonest. We are erasing communities of color who are systematically locked out of this game.

So, at the same time as I am challenging myself to do more work as an ally, I am challenging every white person reading this to do the same. This can be uncomfortable. I get it. We all want to think of ourselves as good people, good allies. The solution to that discomfort isn’t denial or disavowal, but action: you can decide right now that you care enough about Black lives to start actively working on their behalf.

What should I do?

There’s a lot to be said here, and I won’t pretend to be an expert or an educator on this issue, but I will start by recommending a handful of educational resources. So You Want to Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo is an excellent resource for white people with any level of comfort or discomfort talking or thinking about race. White Fragility, as the title implies, discusses why white people find it so hard to talk about race. The New Jim Crow deals with how mass incarceration has been used as a tool to systematically oppress Black people. Ava DuVernay’s documentary 13th, also about mass incarceration, is on Netflix. As I challenge myself to keep learning about these issues, I have just ordered a copy of Ibram X. Kendi’s How to Be an Antiracist, which I have heard is excellent.

Educating yourself—which includes confronting your own racist beliefs, which we all have, by virtue of living in a deeply racist society—is just a starting point, however.

If you can afford it, financially supporting Black community organizations—as well as Black-owned businesses—is a powerful, tangible thing you can and should do on a regular basis (a list of a few such organizations is at the end of this article). Whether or not you can afford to give money away, you can also volunteer your actual time.

Protesting, during the pandemic, is complicated, but if you’re a low-risk person who is able to isolate yourself afterwards, consider that many people of color are currently putting their lives at risk—both from the police and COVID-19—to fight for their right to exist. Consider that you, as a white person, are realistically only impacted by one of those risks.

Finally, and this is work that will be ongoing for a long time, talk to other white people. Speak up when you witness racism—not just visible, public violence, but microaggressions from the people you see on a daily basis. Make a promise to yourself that you’ll do this. Practice if you need to. If you can, ask your employer or school what they are doing to support your Black coworkers and classmates during this time.

Talk to your friends, neighbors, and families, especially older relatives. It isn’t enough to roll your eyes at the racist aunt at Thanksgiving and wait until she shuts up. Talk to her. You don’t have to start a fight—that doesn’t work, anyway—but don’t be afraid of making things uncomfortable. There are many resources out there for these conversations, including the books I listed above. Again, practice what you’re going to say. Deep breath. Your discomfort is nothing compared to the very real violence people of color face on a regular basis.

Finally, I hope you’ll pass this along: ask the white people around you what they’re doing to confront racism. Hold yourself and others accountable. Hold us accountable.


Here is a list of organizations you can donate to, local and elsewhere, compiled by Don’t Shoot Portland. The list includes Portland’s Nat Turner Project and the PDX Protest Bail Fund for those arrested protesting in Portland. Other local organizations include the Urban League of Portland and Self Enhancement, Inc, who also have a list of Black-owned businesses on their website.

Categories
Not Soccer Thorns

Thorns Sith Names, Ranked

It is a well-established fact that the Thorns are not Sith. This is a good thing for all of us—particularly the younglings.

But if they were Sith, there would be a real disparity in the quality of Sith names throughout the Thorns roster. Adding Darth to your name is great when you are going by Vader, Sidious, or even Revan, but modern-day, real-life names lend themselves somewhat less to the intimidating air preferred by the adherents of the Dark Side.

So, on the scale of Darth Val to Darth Maul, where do the Thorns fall?

I took a look at the Thorns roster and tried to pick out the best Sith name for each player: Darth followed by their first name, last name, or nickname.


24. Darth Charley – As someone with two first names, Simone Charley was always going to struggle in a ranking that is about a combination of intimidation and hard consonant sounds.

23. Darth Ellie

22. Darth Hubly

21. Darth Sophia

20. Darth Kat

19. Darth Everett

18. Darth Franch – I want to put Franch higher on this list mostly because she is one of the players on the Thorns I can best picture wielding a lightsaber (it is probably her haircut), but at the same time I just can’t get around the fact that her name doesn’t really let you sneer properly as you pronounce it.

17. Darth Westphal

16. Darth Rocky

15. Darth Salem

14. Darth Menges

13. Darth Ogle

12. Darth Heath

11. Darth Britt

10. Darth Seiler – Any name ending in an “r” is much easier to imagine Emporer Palpatine growling in warning.

“You will not fail me again, Darth Seiler.”

9. Darth Lussi

8. Darth Weaver

7. Darth Cel

6. Darth Bella – The Sith of the extended Star Wars Universe have a long history of using Latin-ish words as their names. Tyranus, Iratus, Nihilus, and Rictus have all graced the Galaxy far, far away, and Bella, the plural for war in Latin, fits right in with the theme.

Of course, if Bella Bixby had stayed Bella Geist, she would have been an easy contender for the top ranking on this list.

5. Darth Kling

4. Darth Horan

3. Darth Sinc

2. Darth Broon

1. Darth Pogarch

Categories
Not Soccer Soccer Thorns

Welcome to the Dark Side

Right off the bat, let’s be clear: the Thorns are not evil. They are a group of human women who play soccer professionally—emphatically not a shadowy warrior cult strong in the dark side of the Force. None of them would ever murder their dark mentor as part of the ancient, never-ending cycle of apprentice betraying master. I doubt any of them even owns a laser sword.

But, I mean…

You know what they say: a rose by any other name would be equally vicious and power-hungry

It’s not like they don’t want us to make that connection, right?

Witness the power of this fully armed and operational battle station, brought to you by Providence Health & Services

So, if the Thorns were both fueled and consumed by a supernatural rage, and they did all own laser swords, and if their laser swords were the glowing red of a Dathomirian sunset, what would that look like? In other words, which Sith Lords best exemplify the essences of which Portland Thorns?

Lindsey Horan: Darth Vader

In the 2015/2016 offseason, the Thorns were coming off a dark year. Their season had been thrown into turmoil by the Clone Wars 2015 World Cup, they’d just shaken up their coaching staff, and the roster was undergoing an almost total rebuild. One bright spot on the horizon was Lindsey Horan, the immensely talented young American whose arrival had been foretold generations ago as the one who would bring balance to the Force. Like Vader, Horan does it all, by herself if she needs to: she defends, she sets attacks up, and she scores, sometimes all in a single play.

Christine Sinclair: Darth Sidious

Christine Sinclair may be one of the best goal scorers of all time, but for a player as immensely powerful as she is, her game is surprisingly understated. She’s cool and calculated, always lurking near goal when you least expect her, waiting for the fortuitous moment to strike. She makes an impact even when the other team thinks they’ve got her marked out of the game. And off the field, she’s famously quiet. She’s been in charge for years, and if you didn’t know what to look for, you might not even know it.

Tobin Heath: Darth Maul

A double-bladed lightsaber is the sword version of a cheeky nutmeg: few people can even control it without putting themselves in danger, let alone use it effectively in a duel. Some would call it unnecessarily flashy, but unnecessary flash is exactly what makes millions of people fall in love with the game. In my book, Tobin Heath gets unfairly labeled as all style and no substance too often, but the style? Nobody can deny the style.

Becky Sauerbrunn: Count Dooku

Count Dooku was a Jedi master—trained by none other than Yoda—who turned to the dark side late in his career, setting in motion key events in galactic history. While Becky Sauerbrunn has yet to put on a Thorns jersey, it’s not hard to imagine that one of the most decorated center backs of all time could be a difference maker for a team whose weak point has been defense in recent years. She’s already won two NWSL championships and two World Cups—a third NWSL ring, presumably suffused with dark energy and giving off a faint red glow, would be a great addition to that trophy case.

Mark Parsons: Darth Bane

Mark Parsons isn’t a Thorn, per se, but bear with me: Darth Bane was the ancient Sith lord who restructured an order on the brink of collapse. He introduced the rule of two, which limits the entire Sith order to a single master and their apprentice. When Parsons arrived in 2016, the Thorns were on shaky ground, and he restructured the team in a number of ways, bringing in a largely new roster and building a team-focused culture that prioritizes hard work and effort. The Thorns as we know them today wouldn’t exist without him.

 

Categories
International Not Soccer Soccer

Shoot for the (Four) Stars

We’re in quarantine. Sports are on hold indefinitely. I don’t know about the rest of y’all, but I’m getting tired of watching a ridiculous amount of Degrassi: The Next Generation—a show I chose purely because it has almost 400 episodes—in between pretending to do work for my online classes. So what else is there?

Watching old soccer games? Can be fun, but if you’re like me, you have a hard time focusing for an hour and a half on a sports match you’ve already seen. (Especially if you end up thinking about the current lack of sports and feeling sad about that instead.)

Books? Sure. I recently finished There There, which I definitely recommend checking out if you haven’t yet. I’m now working my way through a book about consciousness and octopuses—maybe more on that in a week or two. The thing is, I can only spend so much time reading every day, so that can’t be the only thing in my life.

Astrology? Now we’re onto something. I started a comparison between Jill Ellis’s and Vlatko Andonovski’s charts a couple months ago out of curiosity; I wanted to know what the stars had to say about their different coaching styles and appearances in the eyes of fans. While I never fully put anything together then, now seems like the perfect time to change that.

Photo by Nikita Taparia.

At its most basic level, astrology is about planets, signs, and houses. These are usually explained in terms of energy. Planets identify what energy is being dealt with—for instance, the sun describes one’s most basic self, while Mercury is about intellect and communication. Signs explain how that energy manifests itself, and houses express the areas of life in which that energy appears. For the purposes of this piece, I’m looking just at the first two, as the placement of houses changes every two hours and I don’t know Ellis’s or Andonovski’s exact time of birth. I’m also focusing on the inner, “personal,” planets, those which reflect on one’s individual personality.

Jill Ellis’ natal chart.

As mentioned above, one’s sun sign describes their most fundamental self. It’s the one we talk about when discussing astrology more generally—you’re usually an Aries if you’re born between March 21 and April 20, a Taurus from April 21 to May 20, and so on. In both Ellis’s and Andonovski’s cases, the sun falls in Virgo.

Vlatko Andonovski’s natal chart.

First and foremost, Virgos are analytical, always evaluating and fine-tuning details. Industrious and pragmatic, this placement bodes well for someone who coaches soccer at its highest level; it lends itself to a technical and tactically creative read of the game. We can see this in Ellis’s array of experimental formations and in Andonovski’s willingness to adapt his game plan in accordance with the strengths and weaknesses of the opponent. The stereotypical Virgo trait of attention to detail is relevant here as well; it speaks to both these coaches’ drive for constant improvement.

Moving down their charts, both coaches’ signs again align, as they both have moons in Taurus. While the sun represents one’s most basic identity, the moon turns this focus inwards to emotions and the subconscious self. Taurus is represented by the bull; it centers around stability and dependability. This placement tells us that Ellis and Andonovski are fundamentally nurturing people who are in control of their emotions.

As alluded to earlier, Mercury placements tell us about thinking and communication. For Ellis, this planet is again in Virgo, focused on practicality and logic. We see this in her trial-and-error approach when it comes to lineups—the infamous Allie Long in the center of a three-back experiment comes to mind. However, Ellis’s reason-based method of thinking also has its clear advantages, most notably when she outcoached Phil Neville’s England side in the 2019 World Cup semifinal. (Neville is an Aquarius, Capricorn Mercury, if you were wondering.)

Andonovski’s Mercury falls in Libra. Symbolized by a set of scales, Libra is about diplomacy and balance. This manifests itself in the way Andonovski manages his teams—he emphasized that the Reign FC squad was a family throughout the 2019 season, a clear indication of his value of unity. The Libra trait of conflict avoidance is also evident in Andonovski’s coaching; he tends to avoid direct play in favor of building through cohesive teamwork and picking the moments to strike.

Venus tells us about relationships—romantic or otherwise—and creativity. Libra is again present for Andonovski here. In this case, his chart tells us that he’s easy to get along with, something supported by the seemingly unanimous praise we hear from his players. Libra Venuses also thrive when expressing their imagination; Andonovski’s love of the game shines through in his meticulous research and tactically adaptable style of coaching. 

In contrast, Ellis’ Venus is located in Leo, a sign associated with loyalty, pride, and radiance. Those with this placement are often charismatic in interpersonal relationships and crave admiration. Additionally, Leo Venuses are more likely to possess extravagant material belongings—or in Ellis’ case, to have peacocks basically living in her yard

Leo also appears in Mars on Ellis’ chart. The planet tied to physical drive and initiative, a Leo Mars often indicates a visionary nature. This tends to make one a good leader, so long as their ego doesn’t get in the way. In Ellis’ case, this allowed her to confidently lead the USWNT for a number of years, although a conflict between pride and the humbling detail-oriented nature of her sun and Mercury could have led to thoroughness in some areas and an overconfident lack of oversight in others. 

Like the other two inner planets, Andonovski’s Mars is in Libra. When three planets—or four, depending on who you ask—fall in the same sign or house, the energy described by that placement is often enhanced. (This is called a stellium.)

Libra Mars leads to the channeling of energy into intellectual or artistic pursuits. Whereas Mars often describes impulsive action, those with Libra placements are often more measured; they tend to consider all sides before making a decision. For Andonovski, this only accentuates his strengths as a coach. He is decisive, but not without ignoring reason.

Ellis exited the job of USWNT head coach boasting a 106-7-19 record and two World Cups, numbers that make it hard to dispute her success. While of course this isn’t fully due to her star chart, and of course the circumstances of one’s birth aren’t the sole indicator of whether or not one will be a good coach, Ellis’s placements lend themselves to confidence and intelligence in her work. While the same signs do not appear in all areas of Andonovski’s chart, that he and Ellis share sun and moon signs indicate that the calm analysis of Ellis’s coaching will not be lost. And a little more emphasis on teamwork never hurt anyone.

Categories
Food Not Soccer

Here’s the Truth about Scrambled Eggs

There aren’t too many foods I don’t like, but poorly scrambled eggs are near the top of the list. Most foods, prepared incorrectly, are at worst bland or disappointing, but messed-up eggs I find borderline disgusting. And therein is a problem: a lot of people think they know how to scramble eggs. They don’t.

The good news is there are many correct ways to scramble eggs. Curd size, whether you crack them into the pan or into a bowl, whether you add other stuff… all those variables are up to personal preference (although there is some nuance to the question of adding stuff, which I will get to momentarily). There are, however, several ironclad laws of egg scrambling.

The Rules (in order of importance):
  1. Don’t overcook the eggs
  2. Cook the eggs over low heat
  3. Add salt before cooking
Let me explain.

The first law is the most important, because of the way proteins are. A protein is a big coiled-up lump of a molecule, like a crumpled-up length of wire. When you cook it, two things happen. First, it uncoils (this is called denaturing); next, it clumps back together, but in different shapes, trapping little pockets of water inside the food (this is called coagulation).

When you overcook eggs, the proteins coagulate too tightly and basically wring the water out like a sponge being squeezed. They separate into a chewy, dry mass of egg and a puddle of water. Gross!

This is where rule two comes in, very close in importance to rule one. It is theoretically possible to get non-gross scrambled eggs over high heat; diner-style eggs are cooked over higher heat, and are not always bad. You have to move really, really fast for this to work, though—we’re talking 30 seconds or less on the heat.

Don’t do that. Instead, follow rule two and cook your eggs over low heat. It takes some trial and error to get to know the right temperature, but always err on the side of too low. Generally, if you see the eggs start to cook as soon as they touch the pan, it’s too hot. It should take a moment before you see anything happening.

There is a sub-rule attached to both the first and second rules. Repeat after me: done in the pan, overdone on the plate. Like anything else you cook, eggs will keep cooking briefly after you take them off the heat. Take a deep breath and serve them just before you think they’re done. You’ll be fine.

On to rule three. There’s a lot of misinformation out there about salt and eggs. Many people think salting scrambled eggs before you cook them is how you end up with dry eggs in a puddle. It is not; refer back to rule one. I have heard it said that you should wait until right before you start cooking to add the salt, and that’s still what I do, out of habit, but I’m honestly not sure if it matters.

The point is this: if you don’t season your eggs before you cook them, you won’t be eating seasoned eggs, you’ll be eating bland eggs with salt on top. There are worse things in the world, which is why this is only rule three, but it’s still not what you want. Add a generous pinch as you’re mixing the eggs up.

Ok, but what else?

I personally like medium-size curds in my eggs. I don’t want big chunks, but I also don’t usually want super-custardy, Gordon Ramsay-style heart attack eggs:

That means cracking the eggs into a bowl, stirring with a fork until I don’t see streaks of white, seasoning with salt, pouring into melted butter in a pan over low heat, and stirring regularly but not constantly.

Some people like to see bits of white; that’s their preference and I respect it. That means you can stir more or less, and it also means it’s perfectly OK to crack the eggs directly into the pan, as long as you then follow the three rules.

Aren’t you going to put any ____ in there?

I, personally, for the most part, am not. Occasionally if I have some green onions to use up, I’ll add those—cooked in the butter just a little before I add the eggs. Certain fresh herbs can also be good. Cheese if I’m really hungry, added toward the end of the cooking process. I used to have a roommate who would put a dollop of crème fraîche, which is fucked up in the sense of being very delicious and probably making you feel like you’re about to die after you eat it. But who has crème fraîche lying around?

In my opinion, you need to be pretty careful with anything else. Any vegetables that are particularly watery are going to cause a problem. Some—mushrooms, onions, leeks, peppers, asparagus, off the top of my head—you could get away with if you cooked them first (see also: every episode of Great British Bake Off where someone puts raw fruit or whatever into their bread). Others, like tomatoes (dried tomatoes excepted) are an absolute hard no. I also wouldn’t use greens of any kind, pre-cooked or not, because I don’t think those two textures work together. Certain meats work fine, but I don’t eat meat, so don’t ask me about that.

Overall, though, I just don’t find putting more stuff in there really adds anything. If you want eggs with stuff in them, make an omelette (and yes, I also feel very strongly about the right way to do that). In my opinion, scrambled eggs aren’t a vehicle for other foods; they should be enjoyed on their own merit. But hey: as long as you follow the three rules, chase your bliss.