— By Matthew Lindley

As I write this, we are a week removed from Jack Jewsbury’s announcement of his retirement. Our team’s first MLS captain — and at many times, our leader — is hanging up his boots, and with him goes an integral part of our first six seasons of MLS.

It’s always taken many different types of characters to fill the cast of a team in the eyes of its supporters: the Superstar, the Leader, the Bastard (but he’s our bastard!) and, sometimes most importantly, the Folk Hero. The Folk Hero is the gamer, the grinder, the trustworthy hand that you can rest assured will always stand when called on to get the job done. The Folk Hero is stoic, letting his actions make the majority of the noise while not demanding, but earning, the respect of fan and player alike with his play, his dedication, and his equal understanding of the importance of club and community. There will never be a more full embodiment of the Folk Hero than Jack Jewsbury.

It didn’t take him long … three days in fact: March 4, 2011 in Tukwila, Washington. After defeating the hated Sounders 2–0 on the opening night of the “Cascadia Summit,” the visitors’ section was going absolutely crazy as our victorious side left the pitch. A figure could be seen stopping and persuading a few of his teammates to cross the field and address the traveling support. He’d only been with the team for 72 hours at that point, but as he quickly shook the hands of the gathered TA, he solidified his place as Captain Jack.

The measure of the Folk Hero is having your resolve be impervious in the face of adversity. Many remember that fateful night in late May 2012 — possibly the worst in our team’s history — for the post-match incident between Jack and Pong. But what some forget was our captain, an enormous headwrap covering a late match laceration, finishing the match and showing the passion expected of anyone who dons the green and gold. He blasted through that adversity even further a few months later in Vancouver when, at the end of a season with more disappointments than victories, he sent a long-distance dagger through the hearts of the home crowd and brought the Cascadia Cup back to Portland.

As beloved to some as Will Johnson was, something never felt quite right about Jack’s demotion to “Locker Room Captain” before the 2013 season. Yes, WJ was our pest: he was that little bugger that got under the other team’s skin. But Jack no longer wearing the armband took a long time to come to terms with. That said, even though appearances were few and far between over the course of those next two seasons, anytime he was called on, he gave 100 percent without question.

Through the magic of last year’s Cup run, to the ups and downs of this season so far, the circumstances that have led to Jack having a more important role on the pitch have afforded us all a final two seasons that any athlete would dream of. From the last second life-saver against San Jose last season, to the brilliant finish of Nagbe’s ankle breaking against KC this season. From his strong presence in the defensive midfield, to his pinpoint corner-kick service, we have the pleasure of watching a beloved player call time while he is still at least in the vicinity of the top of his game.

Sometimes the worst part about loving professional sports is the inevitability of things. Your team will eventually lose; your favorite player will eventually retire. But if a player does things right, they can be truly immortal in the minds and hearts of the supporters they played in front of. They can become something larger than just a player: They can become legend. They can become a staple. They can become what Jack will always be — a Folk Hero.

—by Stephanzy

Long before the Timbers were MLS Cup Champions, long before the MLS Cup was even a goal, we have dreamed of this moment.  This moment is why many of us that had been around in the USL days cherish the US Open Cup.  For a decade, it was our one way to qualify for CONCACAF Champions League.  To get there, we repeatedly faced incredible odds as we worked our way up the table to lose, frequently to teams with single players making more than our entire squad.  Despite this, Our Boys would give everything they had and more for the Badge above their hearts as we would drive them on with every ounce of intensity and civic pride we could muster in an effort to get to this moment.  Landon Donovan, in an interview after one such match, said it was the only place he’d played where the supporters were so constantly loud with our chants, would get louder after being scored on, and louder still with subsequent goals against us.  That was back when RCTID was the loudest chant we did as a motivation for Our Boys when they needed it most.  I say all this because there were very few discussions about CCL that did not include the dream of Costa Rica Away.  It has often been injected into a simple mention of the tourney as a common parsing within the Timbers Army nomenclature.  How could it not be the top of any list of countries to travel to in CONCACAF?

When it was announced that Costa Rica Away was finally happening, we scrambled to see if we could swing it, but needing to replace our roof this year meant we couldn’t afford to do any away days outside Cascadia this year.  After waiting for so long for this moment in Timbers history, needless to say I was super bummed.  Then, the Timbers FO asked the 107ist board if they could send a writer and a photographer with them on their chartered flight and stay in their hotel.  When they asked me to be the writer less than a week from the flight, I could not say no.  I scrambled to get my life covered while prepping for the match.  With no security call and little communication with Saprissa security, we moved to cover our bases by amassing flags, painting banners, loading streamers, and figuring out the logistics of getting a drum down there.  My wife actually called me at one in the morning before our flight telling me to put down my brushes and come home.  Like a child trying to deal with the nervous energy on the eve of Christmas, I wasn’t going to be able to sleep much without being Very Prepared.

I’ve been supporting this club for a long time and have built a lot of casual relationships with much of the staff.  I left my fanboy days behind me a long time ago, so respecting the privacy of the players is pretty easy for me.  After all, we were there to cover the experience from the point of view of the TA, not to do an exposé on the club.  That said, if any of them wanted to initiate conversation with us, we would gladly talk with them.  As the team and staff rolled up, many stopped by to say hi and say they were glad we were chosen to capture this moment for the TA.

We got into the hotel after dark and there wasn’t much around the hotel (felt more like a resort) other than a huge modern mall across the street and a casino in a neighboring hotel.  So, we chose to hang out in the bar off the lobby for some fabulous mojitos before bed.  Some of the FO staff was in there with us and GW bought us a drink on their tab.

We in the Timbers Army have a great travel reputation that extends far outside the stadiums we visit.  When we travel we share our passion for the Rose City and Our Club through (mostly) respectful evangelism, or as we call it, Spreading the Love.  Getting in late, we did some of this the first night in the hotel bar with the bartenders and floor staff as we described our style of support and our excitement at being there to do so.  While they were all fans of Saprissa and were all quick to talk about the difficulty we’d have getting a result in the Monster's Cave, they all pointed to a particular bartender as a huge Saprissa supporter.  You could see it in his side-eye gaze that he wanted to have a go at us but couldn’t due to his job, and was really hesitant as we talked about what we do to support.

Later, Porter comes down looking a little beat.  He had just watched six hours of match footage to prep for the next day’s training.  We bought him a glass of wine before he went over to talk to his staff and he promised to make some time to talk to us during the trip.

The next morning, the eve of match day, the resort aspect of the team’s hotel was more evident as a constant flow of tour vans loaded up with gringos to head off to the countryside.  We, on the other hand, were in a hurry to find our people in the heart of the city, so we hailed a cab.  Some would complain about the traffic, but it provided a good pace for a visual introduction to the city as we admired the local street art with the numerous beautiful murals and intricately stylish graffiti, the many parks and open spaces bustling with activity, the city’s varying styles of architecture, and the ubiquity of the Costa Rican flag in all forms.

We rolled up on Hotel Presidente, the base camp for the Timbers Army, to meet up with our people to explore the city.  Half a block off a popular pedestrian street lined with retail storefronts and street vendors, it was night and day from where we were staying and provided us the opportunity to be among the real people of San José.  We walked down the long avenue to the mercado and explored it using our best labyrinth strategy.  Like similar markets around the world, it really gave us a sense of the local culture.  From the smells of fresh and dried herbs and spices to the myriad fruit stands, from the glorious array of colors from various floral stands to the traditional children’s dresses hanging outside the various knick-knack shops, from the endless options for fresh seafood to the overwhelming options to grab something to eat, there were people everywhere.  When I travel, I use the bbq technique to find out where to eat: look for the place that smells amazing and has a bunch of people eating there.  However, this strategy was difficult to implement, as they all smelled wonderful and were packed with people.  As someone would stand up, someone else would take their place, everywhere.  Luckily, we met someone that could help us decide on a place and they steered us toward some remarkable empanadas in the traditional Costa Rican style.  Legit.

After meandering back to base camp, we found the TA starting to gather together from their flights and, more frequently, from the forested mountains of the countryside.  Listening to the stories of sloth hunts, monkeys in the trees outside their windows, and the plans to kick it on the coast for a few days after match day, it reinforced that I was doing it all wrong on this trip.  The next time I go down will be very different, for sure.

As we broke off to explore different parts of the city and meet its people the way we do, we really got a chance to see, feel, and experience Pura Vida.  Pura Vida has been the nation’s mantra for generations.  It permeates the culture and is evident everywhere you go.  While it directly translates to “pure life,” from my brief experience there, I translate it as a passion for living well—for no matter how bad things get for you, there is always someone who has it worse, so we all need to be here for each other.  If you put yourself in a position to give to others, you’ll find yourself in a position to receive when you need it most.  As a result, they value family, friendship and their relationship with nature and believe in living a simple, uncluttered life while doing so with passion, for life is short, so, Pura Vida.  Personally, I found a lot of parallels with the pride we take in what makes Portland, and Oregon, different from other cities and states in the US and reminded me we could be doing much more.  (Oh, and the bbq technique of finding somewhere to eat totally worked in the barrios of San José.)

There are many ways to measure the effects on the population.  They have a higher life expectancy than we do.  They have better access to healthcare and education.  Every one of the many large public squares I walked through was bustling with people living with Pura Vida.  It’s visible in their beautiful street art and intricate graffiti, in their friendly faces and open hearts, in their pride of place and support for Los Ticos, and, in San José, Deportivo Saprissa as members of the Nación Morada.

The Costa Rican people were as welcoming as their reputation would have you believe, as one of the greatest things about Pura Vida is the willingness to share it with others. The people were very approachable, helpful, and friendly.  After people discovered we were there to support Our Club against their beloved Saprissa, they took great comfort in the strength of their team and the support they give them as the environment created by not only the Ultra Morada, but the Nación Morada as a whole, which is what makes their stadium the “Monster's Cave” (a translation of which even those with the most broken English would remind us).  All made sure we knew it was a place to be feared—fear not for our safety as much as for our emotional well-being.  They were confident in their ability to break the spirit of teams that play there and the supporters that follow them.  This support, the way they make the entire stadium bounce and the lack of results from teams that play there, is one of the things I was looking forward to the most.  They are very proud of this reputation, just as we are of the environment we create in support of the Rose City.  Defending our indomitable spirit, the way we do, some started referring to us as "los gringos más locos que hay".

Some of us had been interviewed for a live video pod for the Nación Morada.  The intent was to learn about us as supporters, our organization through the 107 Independent Supporters Trust, and our rivalries, and gain some insight into Our Boys.  They were surprised and honored to learn what Costa Rica Away has meant through the history of the Timbers Army.  They were also highly intrigued by our matter-of-fact claims that the Riveters lead the world as supporters of women’s soccer, along with the fact our women can drink beers the size of their faces.  When asked which of our players they should keep an eye out for, we mentioned the beautiful play of Valeri as our maestro and waxed on about how much we were going to love their frustration with Chará.  It was a really great talk, even though my proclivity for being suckered into a damn fine sangria may have impacted my side.

Despite all their confidence in the Monster's Cave, we had gotten word from Timbers security after they finally met face to face with Saprissa’s that they were hitting us with major restrictions.  They were really concerned about anything that could be thrown on the pitch.  Despite our security’s assurances of our reputation as passionate yet well-behaved (within reason) away supporters, the word came down that we couldn’t bring the drum or other noisemakers, flags on poles, streamers, smoke, flares, cameras with detachable lenses (because throwing a lens is a thing, apparently), large overhead banners (due to the likelihood of someone lighting a flare under it being a fire hazard).  However, they did say we could bring in our banners and hang them off the front railing, as well as the flags off poles.  Even with the inconvenience, we were Very Prepared and ready for match day.

Getting back to the team hotel that night, we found Caleb hanging in the bar casually waiting to talk to us.  We let the FO buy the round and ended up hanging out till one in the morning.  We traded stories on a number of subjects, most of which were of course Timbers-related.  We talked about events from the point of view of the TA.  We talked about managing the constant roster changes and injuries.  We talked about family and life in Portland.  We talked about his youth, growing up as the son of a logger.  The best story from the night was about the picture he has on an end table he had made out of a log slab.  This picture is of him as a baby in 1975 sitting on a log slab with an axe in it.  So, of course, we talked about fate.  He’s very intense when it comes to doing his job (as we all see on the regular) and it was really nice to just chill with him in a casual environment.

 

The morning of match day we were kicking it in the lobby waiting to make sure our bags, flags, and the drum got on the bus, as we were leaving directly from the stadium to the airport after the match.  While we were waiting, Porter rolled up and showed us some pictures on his phone of his strategic analysis of what he expected during the run of play.  It was like flipping through a book of the famous middle games in chess history.  He had things broken down into moments of the match like chapters and what we needed to do to respond to the things he knew they were going to do at different moments.  He knew there isn’t a target forward in their league the size of Adi.  He also knew there’d be a point when they'd come at us with everything they’ve got and we’d have to work hard to hold our shape and stay coordinated on defense.  He had about a dozen scenarios diagrammed with intricate adjustments.  He knew that if we pushed hard and set the pace in the first 10 minutes, we could show them our true spirit and welcome them to try and destroy it.  A wise man once said, come strong or don’t come at all.  With the team we brought down and the number of TA, that’s what we were gonna do.  Our Boys are the pit bull and we’re the crazy guy.

A little later we were approached by the bartender from the first night who had given us the side-eye, and he was all giddy that he’d found us.  Apparently, since meeting us he had watched a bunch of videos of the TA and, coupled with our passionate description of our style of support, had decided to wholeheartedly adopt the Timbers as his MLS team.  He said he had been telling our story around his neighborhood and, even with early reluctance by many, he was able to get people to understand and appreciate the way we Spread the Love.  This is why I brought scarves, so I scarfed him with an extra No Pity.

The traveling Timbers Army gathered before the match at a local Irish bar that was decked out in typical Irish bar fashion and included scarves from all over the world hanging from the walls and ceiling.  They had a pretty impressive tap selection and good food (their fries were legit).  They had opened early to accommodate us and, as our reputation goes, we drank well and tipped well, making it well worth their while.  As a thank-you in addition to splashing mad cash, we presented them with a No Pity for their wall.  Among many of the familiar faces, there were a few new ones from places like Alaska and Madrid, and a friend of Danger’s who was still biking back from a visit to the US on his way home to Colombia.

Something I haven’t mentioned yet: it was their Independence Day.  We always knew the parade and festivities were going to be a logistical issue and, sure enough, our bus got caught behind someone running with a torch.  Long story short, we did make it to the stadium before the match, but were about an hour behind schedule.  The security plan for the drop-off and entry into the stadium worked well despite one grievance.  A part of the security agreement was to not bring in items that could be used as a projectile.  A little heads up that this included coinage would’ve been appreciated.  The lady holding the gallon container with the slit in the top watched in amazement at the amount of money we, as a group, deposited as we passed.  With several people having up to $10 in change to drop, we donated a quart of coins.  I have no idea how much that is specifically, but, as a betting man, I’d say roughly $250, which collectively is not pocket change.  If we aren’t going to get it back, I personally would appreciate assurances that it goes to some charity.

As we walked up to the security guard doing bag searches, I offered up the banner under my arm as well as the ones in my bag, asking if he needed to check them for offensiveness.  He pulled me aside as I unfurled Hello Kitty holding a No Pity scarf.  The looks on his face, going from shifty-eyed serious to confused amazement with a small touch of head shake to a pure smile, was great to watch.  I started to pull out the others and he shook his head and waved me into the tunnel.

into the section, we started to get settled and set up the banners on the railing.  We were immediately told that we couldn’t hang anything off the railing, which was counter to our agreement.  They kept saying it was a CONCACAF ruling, but looking out at the banners in other parts of the stadium and the look in their eyes, I knew we weren’t getting the real truth.  Timbers security jumped on it for us and got the right people to honor the agreement.  Then, they said we couldn’t hang them with duct tape, so we replaced it with zip ties.  Then, they said we couldn’t use zip ties or hang them from the rail, but could hold them.  This changed again several times over the course of the match, which was really annoying especially given it was a different messenger each time.

Our section grew a little with the addition of some Timbers fans from other parts of the stadium.  Two of these were a Portlander who had been living down there for the last eight years and his 3-year-old son.  Don't worry, the kid got scarfed with his first No Pity.

As the first kick approached, the songs started.  Their songbook was full of familiar tunes that span Central and South America, and they did them well.  They didn’t blare out their chants as much as truly sing them with a unique melody all their own from a passion deep in their souls.  I found myself dancing to many of their songs, especially the many that captured the entire stadium in unified song.  Their version of “Esta es la Banda Loca” put chills down my spine as one of my personal favorites from the region.  (There is a Timbers Army version out there, but it has way too much Spanish to make it into our official songbook.  However, my offer to sing it on the spot will always stand.)  While we tried to counter in song when we could, we were frequently drowned out in a battle for the terraces we were never going to win.

Porter had mentioned that we were going to be coming out strong, and Our Boys started the match with spirited, fearless pressure.  It was obviously unexpected in the Monster's Cave as the crowd empowered their team to elevate the intensity of the match.  When our early pressure resulted in Valeri’s goal in the 5^th, we were overcome with an immeasurable joy and a bewildering feeling that we could actually pull off a result here where so few could.  Porter’s comments about them being frustrated with Adi’s size culminated in them actually taking swings at him in the 20^th.  Our section was like watching the match from the beer garden in the Hollow, so we couldn’t tell most of what was happening on the other side of the pitch.  All we really knew was that the crowd was not pleased with Gleeson, as they whistled whenever he touch the ball and even got up to catorce on a goal kick.  And, just as we had told the Nación Morada people who interviewed us, Chará’s play frustrated the entire crowd.  *Wipes tear of joy from eye*

As the ball found the back of the net for them, we were pummeled from all directions with an intensity that Seattle fans will never have.  It felt like half the stadium was giving it to us in the Timbers Army section.  Part payback for our early celebration and antics, everyone you could see was having a go.  It was like the nicest guy you could meet doing the double bird dance at us.  All we could really do is drink it in while we waited for "RCTID" to be heard past the immediate few around us.

We had been warned that they might take offense to some of our actions and, “as a proud people,” might retaliate in some way.  This ended up mainly being in the form of stadium-wide whistling at some of our chants.  When we sang O.J. Obatola’s chant at the top of our lungs, the way we do, after they sang a championship song to the same tune, they weren’t too impressed and let us know.  (If you don’t know the Obatola chant, ask around.  It’s the best chant we’ve ever done for one of our shortest-lived players.)  Another case was after they were time-wasting with the ball when they were up, the crowd sang “OLE” with every pass; we did the same for our side to lighten the mood and they, again, let us know their displeasure.  There were plenty of birds flying around the stadium, which seemed to be fine, but apparently shaking one's fist in an up-and-down motion causes great offense and resulted in three, maybe four, rocks being tossed in our direction from their north end.  No one was seriously hurt, but one of our FO’s security took one in a knuckle which swelled up pretty good.  Another was close enough to be felt passing by someone’s head.

One of the banners we made for the trip was to honor Timbers Legend and San José’s own Rodney Wallace, in a depiction of him doing the airplane after scoring the championship winner in Columbus—the goal that got us to this epic away day.  Just before the half, some of their supporters that were in the box behind us asked if they could take pictures of the front of some of our banners.  Knowing it would mean the most to them, we pulled this one up for them and you could immediately see the respect in their eyes as we honored one of their own.  At the half, we walked it up and handed it to one of their elders as a gift.  The elder supporter and those around him were honored to receive this gift and draped it in front of them with pride for the rest of the half for all to see.  Of course, they pulled it up before the 2^nd, but expecting them to fly our colors is silly.  Hopefully it finds a way to fly for him at a national team match.

We met another elder during the half who was a marvelous example of what Saprissa means to this community.  At ninety-two years old, she attends every match and supports with a passion that we in the Timbers Army can respect and adore.  Several of us walked up to show our respect as she reached down to us from her perch like a noble queen.

All in all, it was a beautiful night for some footy.  There was a mist that lingered under the lights giving everything a surreal quality, and shortly after someone mentioned the great weather, we got just enough of a sprinkle to sing and dance “Let it Rain, Let it Pour, Let the Portland Timbers Score, Nana-Na-Na, Na-Nana, Na-Na.”  This one went over with actual fanfare from the rest of crowd, and I’m sure it helped to solidify our reputation as "los gringos más locos que hay.”

As the match started to enter the final moments, a few of their fans started to head to the exits.  We gave them a couple rounds of “We Can See You Sneaking Out,” to mixed fanfare (as always). This was the tip of the iceberg: as the final whistle blew and the exodus before us began, the flow of supporters offered constant reminders of the score and their passion, with everyone using the exit next to us giving us a go now that they could see the whites of our eyes.  That intensity waned, for the most part, as we pelted them with invites to come to Portland, a cacophony of exclamations of “PURA VIDA!” with all the passion we could muster as TA, followed by an exclamation of our plans to go to the beach through a chant of “Vamos a la Playa, Oh Oh-Oh-Oh.” How could you be mad at that?

As the TA was shuffled off to the bus to take everybody back, we were escorted across the pitch to meet up with the team buses heading to the airport.  While the team was wrapping up post-match interviews, MP was lividly pacing, silently trying to avoid the little drywall in the area.  The guy is really protective of his players, I’ll give him that.

As our bus pulled away from the stadium and started the snaking path through the surrounding barrio, the celebrations of victory and independence were everywhere in the streets and doorways.  A memorable young boy stood on a stoop as we passed.  Lifting the badge above his heart far from his chest and holding up four fingers in rhythmic song, he gave me comfort that they’re raising ‘em right down there.

There’s been one other time I flew back on the same plane as Our Boys, and that was after Captain Jack lifted the Cascadia Cup in Vancouver.  This time was completely different.  Say what you will about the inability of refs from Cuba calling a match of this magnitude.  Say what you will about the physical play in CONCACAF.  I’m proud of the heart and spirit Our Boys brought onto the pitch in the Monster's Cave.  Scoring two goals in that environment is no easy task.  In my eyes, we stood our ground against an opponent that knows what it takes to be multiple time CCL Champions.  Now, we travel to El Salvador to face DC Dragon in their house.  Despite our road results this year, we need to show our dominance and crush their spirits like we were supposed to at home.  Our passion; our fearlessness; our heart; our chemistry—let’s ride this thing.  Saprissa is coming to our house next.  Let’s show them how we do what we do.

 

Other notes:

Many from the US may look at the housing in the barrios of San José, and other areas of the world, and question the quality of life.  With our current housing crisis here in Portland with the skyrocketing housing prices and rents forcing members of our community into various forms of hardship, the growing numbers of homeless Portlanders, and with no real solution in sight, one can argue that maybe we’re the ones doing it wrong.  There’s something to be said for the benefits on the health of a community with close proximity versus many of our communities where people rarely see, let alone know, their neighbors.  How much do we sacrifice in life to maintain our housing choices?  Is it the difference between an economy based on single family home-ownership and one based on quality of life?  I’m not sure.  I would need to spend much more time studying this issue to say for sure but, I’m sure the answer is in the middle somewhere.

The transportation infrastructure, on the other hand, is a whole different story.  Pedestrians need to be agile or you could end up in the storm sewer through a man-sized hole, the traffic was pretty bad, and I only saw one brave soul on a bike (wearing a respirator) near downtown San José.  That said, there was a Critical Mass bike ride on the news while we were there, which is a solid step forward for their safety as cyclists.

Lastly, I’d like to invite the Nación Morada to come to our house with everything they can.  Bring your banners, flags (on poles), and drums.  There’s no pyro in the away section but please, bring your hearts full of song.  You’re going to need it all to get a result in our house.

The following is an opinion piece, and does not necessarily reflect the opinion of the Timbers Army or the 107ist Board of Directors.

by Vato Chris

From the time I started in high school in Albuquerque, New Mexico, I refused to stand for the Pledge of Allegiance or the national anthem (or turned my back when I did). For the most part I did so quietly so as not to offend those around me who did not share my beliefs. This small act of defiance at the time was a general illustration of my teen angst rather than a pointed act of protest. As a Chicano in New Mexico, I was not a minority, and had no knowledge I was living in a very poor state, with a very poor education system; a state which had, per capita, the highest crime rate in the country, and I was in an area of the state which did not have a viable industry for the less than fifty percent of students who did manage to graduate. I did not stand more because I was a punk than because I wanted shit to change.

In NM, I had had my run-ins with the police. I had been arrested several times, both as a juvenile, and later as an “adult” (I was 18/19 when I was last arrested in NM). Most of my crimes for which I was arrested were fairly normal for a Burqueno: DWI, Criminal Damage to Property, Burglary, small-time stuff that most kids did. Usually I was arrested, taken to the juvenile department on the west side, and put on probation for a little while longer.

Shit changed around the time of the Gulf War (Number One, kiddos). Police at the time began to be a little rougher, calling me names and pushing me around a little more. I was called both a Spic and Iranian on the same day by two different cops (that day I was arrested for Battery on a Police Officer, later dropped to an Assault on a Police Officer. If you don’t know the difference, that’s on you). On another occasion I was hit with a baton in the stomach because I had witnessed a car accident involving a cop (who was at fault) and dared to speak up when the other cops arrived. Thinking back on my time in Albuquerque, what strikes me is that for a town made up largely of Latinos and Indios, all the police who had been rough with me or talked shit were White (the dude who called me an Iranian was a Latino CO at the jail). But at the time, as stated above, I was not a minority and had not thought in terms of racial/ethnic identity.

This would change with my move to Minneapolis, MN. I was different from jump there. In a city with arguably the biggest punk scene in the country, I was one of two Latino punks. Where I had come from, Latinos were punks, skinheads, metalers, cowboys, etc. Not in Minneapolis. As far as I could tell, the Latinos there were in one neighborhood (West St. Paul) and made and sold Mexican goods to one another. In addition, in Minnesota, everyone thought I could speak Spanish. In NM it was really only old folks who spoke Spanish. Everyone else had an accent like they could, but thought “Fuck you ese” was perfectly good Spanish. I was soon given the name Vato by my homie Norman who was from Orange County and had known Latino punks from CA.

This new feeling of being a minority also brought with it a new sense of pride. I started to learn more about my culture and my history. I flew a Mexican flag on my rear view mirror, I started to rock pro-Raza t-shirts and seek out Latino punk rock. At the same time, I started getting more and more shit from the police in Minnesota. I had gotten a ticket for obstructing a rear view mirror for the flag, I had been regularly pulled over while driving and racked up so many tickets I would eventually lose my license. But before I lost my car, I almost lost my child as one cop who pulled me over for a broken headlight (it was not broken, by the way) threatened to take my son who was in the back seat unless I could I could prove he was mine. But this was not the worst thing that happened there. One night I was crossing a street at a crosswalk. There was a cop car at the light. I walked in front of the car against the light and the cop got pissed. On this occasion, I had a gun pulled on me by a cop while I was on my knees facing a wall for crossing a fucking street.

And this treatment was not limited to me. The police were well known by the black community in Minneapolis for taking black men on a “river run,” where the black man would be driven to the Mississippi River, be threatened by gunpoint and told to walk home. A Native American man was taken to the drunk tank in the trunk of a police car because the cop said he had just washed his car and did not want an Indian throwing up in the back seat. The women’s drunk tank in South Minneapolis was shut down because so many Native American women had been assaulted both physically and sexually by the cops there or on the way.

I ultimately moved to Portland, where liberals are liberal about race because there are so few people of color, most people can go their whole lives with never having one as a neighbor. But before I moved here, what I knew of Portland was a black man being beaten to death by boneheads, and the WAR separatist movement which wanted the Pacific Northwest to be the new white fatherland (this was the first context in which I heard the word Cascadia). When I got here, the boneheads had been run out of town by some of the folks who have been gracing the Timbers terraces for many years now, but those boneheads were soon replaced by yuppie 20/30-somethings who have decided to reclaim what they have always thought of as theirs. So while I am able to go home to NM and feel what it is like to have a place where people look like me, the blacks of Portland have been relegated to the outer reaches of the city and have nowhere to return to when they are tired of being the outsider.

This treatment over the years has decreased to me directly as I have gotten old and gray, but has been incessant generally since. My country has been in a perpetual state of war for most of my life with the fodder for those wars, its soldiers, being overly represented by Latinos, blacks and Native Americans. These are men and women who are good enough to die, but not good enough to be your neighbor. I have watched a country that has not honored one treaty signed with Native Americans and wants what is theirs now that some of them have managed to make lemonade from the lemons they were given. I see a country that is ready to take away working people’s right to collectively bargain, unless of course you are part of the police union. I have watched as my country has sold its prisons to the highest bidder and now has to fill those prisons by any means necessary, and those prisons, like our military, are overrepresented by Latinos and blacks. I have watched my country wag its finger at other nations over human rights while blacks and Latinos are being shot in the street by cops, while our country is imprisoning those who act out and vilifying those who speak out.

So fuck you, I refuse to be quiet. I no longer sit through the anthem, but instead make my voice of dissent known. I am the Vato who yells ACAB during the anthem or who yells other such niceties. I am not trying to effect change; I am screaming out of frustration. Do I think any of this shit will change? If it hasn’t changed in 500-plus years, it ain’t gonna stop now because some white folks care. I am tired of being respectful, cuz if you don’t respect me and mine, why the fuck should I respect you and yours? So for now, ACAB!!!!

NB: Do I really believe All Cops Are Bastards… yes. Most (if not all) of the officers I deal with or know are good people as individuals and we get along, but as a group, when you do not speak out against the things that are wrong or you deny things are wrong to start with, you are part of the problem.

by Jennifer Ingraham

Widmer Brothers’ innovation brewing team brews limited edition Centennial Celebration IPA with Jake Gleeson as the impressive regular season sellout streak continues

PORTLAND, Ore. (September 8, 2016) – Widmer Brothers Brewing and Portland Timbers Goalkeeper Jake Gleeson teamed up to brew a small-batch, commemorative beer – “Centennial Celebration IPA,” a pineapple rye India Pale Ale– to mark the 100th consecutive Portland Timbers regular season match sellout. Centennial Celebration IPA will be tapped exclusively at Providence Park at the Timbers match on Saturday, September 10th as the team hosts Real Salt Lake.

VIDEO: Timbers’ Jake Gleeson, Widmer Brothers collaborate on Centennial Celebration IPA

Centennial Celebration is a fitting name for the Timbers’ impressive regular-season sellout streak, which spans every regular season home game dating back to the club’s inaugural MLS season in 2011. During that time more than 2 million fans have attended games.

Gleeson, from Palmerston North, New Zealand, has been with the Timbers since 2011, and worked on the recipe with the Widmer Brothers innovation team, led by brewmaster Tom Bleigh. The collaboration included a nod to Gleeson’s home country as it included New Zealand hop varietal Wakatu.

“This chance to collaborate with Widmer Brothers on such a bold and unique beer is very exciting,” said Gleeson, of the collaboration. The combination of Wakatu, Citra, and Mosaic hops with fresh pineapple highlights an amazing tropical fruit profile in Centennial Celebration IPA.

“This is a fun, unique combination of ingredients that make for a flavorful, vibrant IPA, worthy of celebration,” said Bleigh. “When we first started talking to Jake about recipe ideas, we wanted to take inspiration from his background and taste preferences, as well as our innovation team’s creativity. The result is something we feel Timbers fans and beer fans alike will enjoy.”

While the beer is expected to sellout in short order at the September 10th match, fret not Timbers and Widmer Brothers fans: Centennial Celebration IPA will be tapped at the Widmer Brothers Pub in North Portland the following Saturday, September 17th after the club’s match with the Philadelphia Union. At 6pm you can join members of the Portland Timbers at Widmer Brothers’ North Portland pub and enjoy a pint of the Centennial Celebration IPA, or Widmer Brothers’ array of beers. 

About Centennial Celebration IPA

Style: Pineapple Rye IPA

To mark the occasion of the Timbers’ 100th consecutive sellout—which includes a whopping two million fans through Providence Park turnstiles—Widmer Brothers and Portland keeper Jake Gleeson made a small-batch tropical IPA whose flavor, as the New Zealanders might say, is Chocka. Gleeson chose to spice this IPA with rye malt, and complemented his choice of Citra, Mosaic, and Wakatu (NZ) hops with some fresh pineapple – like the Timbers and the 2015 season, a winning combination.

MALT: 2 Row, Flaked Rye, Rye Malt, and C-40

HOPS: Citra, Mosaic, and Wakatu

ABV: 5.5% | IBU: 60

For more information on Widmer Brothers Brewing, visit widmerbrothers.com or see what the brewery is up to on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

About Widmer Brothers Brewing

Widmer Brothers Brewing helped create the Pacific Northwest craft beer movement in 1984 when founders Kurt and Rob Widmer, then in their 20s, began brewing unique interpretations of traditional German beer styles. In 1986, Widmer Brothers Brewing introduced the original American-style Hefeweizen, which elevated the brewery to national acclaim. Since then, the brewery’s iconic Hefe, which celebrates its 30th anniversary in 2016, has grown to become Oregon’s favorite craft beer. For more than three decades, Widmer Brothers has continued to push the boundaries of craft beer. Based in Portland, Oregon, the brewery currently brews a variety of beers including Hefe, Upheaval IPA, Steel Bridge Porter, Drop Top Amber, Replay IPA, and a full seasonal lineup. Additionally, the brewery continues to make a series of limited edition, small-batch beers available in Oregon and at the Widmer Brothers Pub in North Portland.

—by Darren Lloyd

There were some great entries out there, folks!

Collecting 43% of the votes, we’ll be Ridgyrollin’ throughout the North End…to the tune of “Tootsee Roll,” this was the top vote-getter!

The Capos and DnT will work it into the rotation, ready for that next moment of Ridgewell brilliance!

But, why stop there? Varying versions of chants for the same player split votes, so you may hear additional chants from the contest sung throughout the North End soon.

Thanks to all of our entrants!

by Scott Jeffries

The following is an opinion piece, and does not necessarily reflect the opinion of the Timbers Army or the 107ist Board of Directors.

We have all heard endlessly about the Colin Kaepernick situation. Everyone has an opinion and there are no hot takes left to give. I’m not here to talk about Colin Kaepernick, or to say what I think about Colin Kaepernick, or to hear what you think about Colin Kaepernick. Colin Kaepernick.

I am here, however, to talk about what Colin Kaepernick is talking about, which is that, well, I’ll justquote him: “I am not going to stand up to show pride in a flag for a country that oppresses black people and people of color. To me, this is bigger than football and it would be selfish on my part to look the other way. There are bodies in the street and people getting paid leave and getting away with murder.” This is an issue that has been raised time and time again, but this time it was done by a polarizing public figure in a provocative way and so now everyone would rather debate about the person taking the action rather than the statement he was making. This week, Washington Spirit owner Bill Lynch decided to play the national anthem before the teams had entered the field, to prevent Seattle Reign and U.S. National Team star Megan Rapinoe from engaging in the same protest.

As a show of solidarity for the cause they are supporting, I intend to sit for the National Anthem in the Timbers Army on Saturday. I am not protesting the anthem specifically, but this is the form that their protest has taken and so this is how I too will protest. I protest not only the unequal treatment of African Americans in this country but also the attempts to marginalize the voices of those drawing attention to it. If critics of Kaepernick and Rapinoe truly supported freedom, they would support the right to silent protest. If they truly do not see the inequality in our society, they are either blissfully sheltered or willfully ignorant.

As a white person, I can never fully grasp the struggles black Americans face, but I can understand history and see its effects. Slavery begat Jim Crow which begat redlining which begat white flight which begat gentrification. African Americans face higher unemployment, lower educational attainment, and live in more segregated neighborhoods with higher crime rates. They make lower incomes, accumulate less wealth, and buy fewer homes, which multiplies across generations. The wealth gap is widening to the point where it would take the average black family 228 years to accumulate the same wealth as the average white family today. Schools are rapidly resegregating to levels not seen since the Civil Rights era. The Supreme Court struck down a key part of the Voting Rights Act which unleashed a flood of new restrictions targeting low-income, minority voters, only the most blatantly racist of which were struck down.

And, of course, the main reason that Kaepernick is protesting, and the reason that many more before him have been protesting, is the unequal treatment of black people by law enforcement. It is a fact thatblack people are more likely than white people to be arrested and subjected to physical force for the same crimes. Black people are more likely to be arrested for selling or possessing drugs than white people, despite the fact that white people do both of these things at the same rate or more. Mandatory minimum sentencing, three-strike laws, and race-based drug enforcement create a cycle where a black person is more likely to go to prison, which impacts their ability to find legitimate work when they get out, which in turn makes it more likely that they will return to prison. It tears families apart, traps communities in poverty, and reinforces the bias that law enforcement has against black people. And it is impossible to ignore the steady flow of shootings and deaths of black men by police in situations where a white person surely would have walked away alive, if they had even been stopped in the first place. If you’re wondering why this might have started with a 49ers player, google “SFPD racist texts”.

I can’t help but note that we live in an incredibly white city and are an incredibly white fan base. Portland’s past and present is a discussion for another time, but we cannot let ourselves be complacent in our little bubble of whiteness, full of good intentions but no action, shielded from the real injustice in the world, even the real injustice in our city as we increasingly take over Albina-Mississippi and push our racist legacy to 82nd Avenue and beyond, out of sight and out of mind. I am surprised by how many young Portlanders don’t even know what Albina means, beyond the name of a street. If you want a sobering history of racism in Portland, read Bleeding Albina. It might change the way you look at our city.

And so, in light of all of this, I will neither stand nor sing on Saturday. I will not judge those who do, or make assumptions about their motivations or beliefs, just as I would not want anyone to judge or assume anything about me because of the action I am taking. This is just one way to express something that many (hopefully all) of us feel, but it is not the only way, and it might not feel appropriate to some. I don’t do it to disrespect our country. I stand and sing loudly every game, then jubilantly toss the shreds of the program I’d so dutifully torn apart. Singing the national anthem at our MLS home opener is one of my favorite memories as a Timbers fan. This will be the first time I have not sung the anthem and it’s not a decision I make lightly. I am not anti-American, but I am also against blind worship, and we as Americans take far too much pride in ourselves to ever honestly assess our faults. I believe we can do better, but first we have to acknowledge that we need to.

—by Michelle Deford

On Saturday, August 27th, 2016, the Timbers Army hosted their second annual two-stick party, this time to take down Seattle. Now, when we have this talk, someone usually asks, “What is a two stick?” Imagine you are at a Timbers game. The anthem has just been sung, “…and the home, of the… TIMBERS!!!!!!” and everyone around you is going nuts. These two dudes in front of you told you they had something they were going to hold up, but it wouldn’t be up during the game and it wouldn’t be up for very long. Suddenly, there is a giant piece of fabric in front of you with two PVC pipes on each side.

“Is this… a Drake CD cover?” (Note: This is an actual two-stick made last time.)

That’s a two-stick.

Maybe you have seen some of the amazing pieces the PTFC Moderates have done, or you’ve caught a few glimpses of the things that come from 208, or 106, or anywhere really. That’s the beautiful thing about art in the TA: ANYONE CAN DO IT.

The day before Seattle at home, we had more than 20 people come out to the tifo garage and paint two-sticks. The tifo crew very graciously let us use their location, paint, and brushes, and they even bought us blank canvases to use. People brought in all kinds of designs. We had a lot of Cups, a Ridgy Tootsie Roll, some emojis, a few superheroes, and a lot of fun.

Here are the qualifying entries in the 2016 Player Chant Contest. Thanks to everyone who had the courage to put their ideas out there!

Pick up to five chants you like, then vote (107ist membership required).
Voting ends at noon on Monday, September 12, 2016. The top vote-getter will be added to the capo/DnT rotation.

• Vytas Chants
• Barmby Chants
• Chara Chants
• Gleeson Chants
• Melano Chants
• Nagbe Chants
• Ridgewell Chants
• Valeri Chants
• Zemanski Chants

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VYTAS CHANTS

1. Oscar Mayer Bologna (variant 1)

2. Oscar Mayer Bologna (variant 2 – John Strong version)

3. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious

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BARMBY CHANTS

4. Barbie Girl

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CHARA CHANTS

5. The Body

6. Changes

7. Hava Nagila

8. Mario Gomez Cha-Cha (link to original)

9. Now We Can See

10. Que Sera, Sera (variant 1)

11. Que Sera, Sera (variant 2)

12. Roll On Columbia

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GLEESON CHANTS

13. Time of the Season

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MELANO CHANTS

14. Blitzkrieg Bop

15. Copacabana

16. Lithium

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NAGBE CHANTS

17. Bumble Bee Tuna

18. Freed From Desire (or: Will Grigg’s On Fire)

19. I Want Candy

20. Karma Chameleon

21. Let’s Go Crazy

22. Should I Stay or Should I Go

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RIDGEWELL CHANTS

23. Sloop John B (or: “He scores when he wants“, etc.)

24. The Magnificent Seven

25. Roll On Columbia

26. Tootsee Roll

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VALERI CHANTS

27. Don’t You Want Me

28. The Happy Wanderer

29. Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da

30. Louie Louie

31. That’s Amore (variant 1)

32. That’s Amore (variant 2)

33. Volare (variant 1 – shorter)

34. Volare (variant 2 – longer)

35. Volare (variant 3 – Dale, maestro del gol)

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ZEMANSKI CHANTS

36. The Dayman

Vote! (107ist membership required)

—by Stephanzy

As many of you may or may not know, one of the things we do on the 107ist Community Outreach Committee is deciding on donation requests.  While some of the big donations get a lot of the coverage, many of them are much smaller and can have a larger, broader, impact.  While it varies based on alignment with our mission, we frequently give gift baskets to auctions or raffle fundraisers which include a voucher for a pair of TA shirts, No Pity scarves, and when appropriate, match tickets.  The 107ist has several season tickets for this purpose and it is always a great pleasure to find a group worthy of this gift.  While the money these gift baskets raise varies greatly, we frequently hear back that they are among the most popular items.

The most raised that we know of was at the Harper’s Playground Auction last year, when we sweetened the deal with playoff tickets and other items including a log slab from Timber Jim.  The final bid was around $2,600!  The best part was the guy who won already had tickets and donated them back to Harper’s Playground to raffle off, raising even more money.

While the typical money raised is much more conservative, the largest impact is often on the fact that it allows people who are normally unable to attend matches to come down and experience what we do as the Mighty PTFC for the cost of a raffle ticket.  One of these stories culminated just this last weekend.  As you know, Operation Pitch Invasion is doing a project at the soccer field in April Hill Park in Southwest Portland.  Due to lower turnout recently, we’re reaching out to the many people in the community that use the field as well as the Foothills Soccer Club, the primary user for practices and matches.  As a part of our outreach to the community, we gave a basket with TA shirts, “limited edition” Gold Outline No Pities, and Seattle at Home tickets to be raffled at the neighborhood’s Movie in the Park event a few weeks ago, and it was the most popular basket in the raffle.  The kid who won plays on the field all the time and was seriously ecstatic about winning, about as much as his mom, an active member of the community.  They wore their new scarves proudly for the rest of the evening and anxiously anticipated the match.

We frequently get wonderful thank-you notes from people for our donations and this one, sent the evening after the match, really got us in the feels, so we thought we’d share:

“…just wanted to let you know that today was, by his own account, the second best day of Torin's life, after the day he was born.  Got our wristbands this morning and found seats in 107 as was his big wish.  We got to hold the edge of the tifo [BAF] 4 times today, and our voices are completely hoarse.  We've lucked out on TA tickets from season ticket holders 2 times before & stood in the upper section, but today was hands down the best ever, what with gutting the fish and all ;)

“Thanks a ton for making it all happen to get the raffle package for Maplewood, and for setting the wheels in motion for the happiest kid I know today.  …Definitely a huge treat for a household on a tight budget, too!”

See what I mean about the feels?

A side note, while we have you:  the soccer field at April Hill Park was built in the mid-sixties by some neighborhood kids who wrote a letter to the city to ask if they could, and is now one of the most used fields in SW Portland.  Like much of the soil in SW Portland, it doesn’t drain well and quickly turns to mud during the fall soccer season.  As a result, the surface is really uneven.  It’s the type of field that you need to either take a cross out of the air, or give it at least six feet clearance to see how it bounces before shooting.  The diverse group of kids, including Torin, that use it on a daily basis deserve better and you can help.  So sign up to come join us this Saturday.

—by Shawn Levy

Announcing the Much-Delayed-But-Worth-It Timbers Army Chant Selection Contest (or the MDBWITACSC if you're into that whole brevity thing).

The Capos and Drum-&-Trumpet Corps are creating new material and soliciting some of it from the people who will actually sing it, which is to say all y'all.

Here are the parameters, instructions and caveats for this contest:

1) We are seeking PLAYER CHANTS, that is, short, punchy bits that can be sung when a player scores a goal, makes a save, enters/leaves a game, or is otherwise awesome.  They are meant to be celebratory and brief enough to insert into the flow of the match.

2) We do NOT want to repurpose chants that have already been done for another player.  Our ethos has always been that once a player is gone, his chant leaves with him.  If you're not sure about your idea, reach out to @shawnlevy on Twitter and he can tell you if the melody has already been used.

3) Think tight-and-bright:  Urruti, Scot-With-One-T, O Tennyson!  A 5-to-10 second chant that can be launched and repeated quickly.  Long, wordy, multi-verse chants can't be rolled out for a celebratory minute or two very effectively.  And they take a long time to catch on.

4) It may NOT be “Gleeee-sonnnn.”

5) Or a variation on “Portland Boys,” because please.

6) Think of the players whom we need to celebrate:  Chara, Gleeson, Nagbe, Ridgewell, Valeri, and others.  Be inspired.  Be upbeat.  Be fun. 

HOW TO SUBMIT:

1) Create a video of the MELODY AND WORDS ONLY.  It could be sung/played live for this purpose; it could be a song sample from a music video with lyrics posted over it; whatever works for you.  But keep it low-fi; we're voting on the song, not the video.  The only graphics should be the lyrics.

2) YOUR SAMPLE MUST BE ANONYMOUS.  Please avoid any personal identifiers in the video.  We're voting for what's best, not for whom we like best.  We DO need to know who has posted the video when it is submitted, but we will allow for that to be done without any names being attached during the voting process.

3) Submissions will be open from Tuesday, August 23 through 5pm on Monday, September 5.

4) To submit, email your link to support@timbersarmy.org with "Player Chant Contest" in the subject line.

5) The 107ist, Capos, and D&T reserve the right to not put up for a vote any video which is obviously malicious, defamatory, or flagrantly trollish.  If a submission of this sort is identified, the creators shall be contacted with explanation and given a chance to appeal.  But the ultimate decision rests with the group putting on the contest.

HOW TO VOTE:

1) When the submission period ends, all eligible videos will be posted in a single place on the Timbers Army website and voting will begin shortly thereafter.

2) Voting will be limited to current members-in-good-standing of the 107ist.

3) Voting will end at noon on Monday, September 12. At that time, the vote totals will be announced and the winning entry will enter the North End playlist.  The Capos and D&T may also, at their discretion, choose to incorporate another entry, but no promises expressed or implied.