Bangers Only

Aston Villa's Europa League triumph contained the best goals.

I was planning to write something else to kick off the day. Some Pep Guardiola requiem was the leading contender. But then I read a pretty touching ode on The Players Tribune from Elina Svitolina to her husband Gael Monfils, as the latter prepares for his final French Open. I know those Players Tribune articles aren't "written" by the athletes, per se. But when the tone is right and the article engaging and it sounds personal enough, I'm not sure it matters.

Monfils's career, as Svitolina points out, will be defined by his artistry rather than accomplishments. He didn't win a grand slam, but he hit shots and provided moments that his fans will remember forever. In the end, that's why we're here, isn't it? To feel.

It certainly connected me back to yesterday's Europa League final. It's not a game I had much investment in. I know some Villa supporters, Freiburg are a good story, but bottom line is it's only a match I was watching because I didn't have much else to do. But when the expectations, stakes, and stress are lowered is probably when we're most likely to be surprised.

Villa have made a habit this season of outrunning the numbers by simply scoring goals from everywhere, and basically everywhere they shouldn't. It's driven the stats-knowers nuts (YARRRR), but Villa and their supporters have a trophy to rub in their faces. Sometimes, ball go in, and it go in a lot. It was only fitting that they collected the first major trophy in three decades in the same fashion, on the back of two goals that bring anyone off their couch. Two of my favorite types of goals.

Both of these hitting the net sent a charge through my body, and definitely caused a change in my posture, if not fully getting upright (standing, not like that, perv). I made an audible, involuntary noise at both.

Even creating chances in soccer, much less actual goals, is usually an infuriating process. So many things can go wrong through the various passes, touches, movement, before you even get into the whole factor of a group of other individuals not cooperating, i.e. defending. Perhaps the reason fans love an absolute thudding of the ball into the net like Youri Tielemans pulls off here is it's the ultimate "FUCK THIS." It's the same emotion as when trying to put together some piece of Ikea furniture and one screw or bolt won't quite line up and you can't quite get it right and you keep trying and trying and it still won't fit at the odd angle you can't help but get it to and you just scream and jam the fucker as hard as you can into the base. Skip the intricacy, skip the design, skip the instructions, hit the fucker! It's a rush to see a task that usually involves so many delicate steps just overpowered. Just Lemmy it to the end.

While Emi Buendia's goal does come from farther out, there is more artistry to it. You only get the real feel for these types of goals when it lines up with the broadcast camera. A right-footer doing this from the far side wouldn't evoke the same thrill, at least for the viewer at home.

This also comes after a well-worked, post-set-piece move, something Villa have specialized in. It's easy for all TV viewers to see Buendia open up into space, how the ball is going to get to him, and what he's going to do once he gets it. For once, a fleeting moment we won't repeat often enough, all of us can see the future unfold. The thrill here is the feeling of omnipotence, if only for a moment and transitory, but take what you can get.

Once Buendia lets fly, even someone like me who was barely a C student in both geometry and physics suddenly has all those lessons we ignored or couldn't comprehend make sense. Time seems to stop halfway through the ball's journey to twine, just when it really starts to bend. The trajectory hasn't changed just yet, but we know it's going to, and we know where it's going. It almost seems impossible for the ball (or the Earth?) to bend and move in such a way to perfectly evade the keeper and yet hit the side-netting, and yet we know it will. And then time speeds up to catch up, the keeper is flapping, the ball is hitting the net, and for once everything aligned, seemingly all at once. And you're trying to get stuck back in time and find your feet.

Ask me why I watch soccer, and it's this. Some match where I have no buy in causing a shock through my system, twice in five minutes. Just slow enough to follow in detail, but fast enough to always keep us guessing. And then, every once in a while, those things work in perfect concert.