Sports

If you have regularly visited Edwards Stadium for soccer matches, you might recognize me.

I’m the guy who always comes five minutes late to the game, taking his sweet time walking up to the very top row of the bleachers. I’m the guy who is always separated from the rest of the crowd, always scribbling something down in his notepad.

I may or may not wear sunglasses, but I have the same apathetic poker face on for 90 consecutive minutes. Some may think I am a MLS scout or just a socially awkward stalker. But honestly, I’m just a guy that, inside, is always having the time of his life.

After covering women’s soccer last fall, I had the chance to move up the Daily Cal ranks to cover volleyball or football this semester. But I chose men’s soccer instead, because I wanted — nay, needed — another fall season with Cal soccer, Edwards Stadium and my unofficial seat at the very top row.

Home matches at Edwards give me a therapeutic consolation. It’s where I can sit in my comfy concrete seat and turn off parts of my brain. Goals in a soccer match can happen in a blink of an eye; if you get distracted in your thoughts, you will miss that match-winner. This comes straight from experience.

It’s where you can disconnect yourself and just watch the match — and the rest of the world — go by. Perched atop the bleachers of Edwards Stadium, I sometimes feel like a Roman emperor at the Colosseum. At the movement of my thumb, Berkeley will tremble at my feet.

Sometimes I run a commentary in my head during matches. From my bird’s-eye view, an English-accented play-by-play announcer will ramble on while a color commentator will drop witticisms every few minutes. And I will just nod my head to the color commentary, telling myself, “That guy is a freaking genius.”

The bird’s-eye view from the top row of Edwards provides me the optimal perspective to watch and write about soccer. Soccer is a game of nuances: with so little stats to work with for articles, I need to zoom in on facets of the game that are near-invisible to the naked eye. From my throne I must construct stories of fluid, fleeting moments throughout the match that only a few can identify within the stadium.

The intense concentration required to cover this sport of details brings me warm solace. The feeling of empowerment over my pen and my thoughts strokes my ego and feeds my self-confidence. I think everybody craves to be the best at something, anything — arrogant as it may sound, I think I found my niche in writing about soccer.

But then again, reality splashes me with cold water every once in awhile. Soccer reporting? It’s about as practical as crochet-knitting, lad. Get your act together, and find something more useful.

And then with a heavy heart I head over to Edwards Stadium, back to my usual place. From my unmarked seat, I see the Neoclassical campus architecture and the towering Campanile meshing with the rolling hills in the background as if in some obscure pastel painting.

Then everything, from the soccer match below to life itself, begins to blur, and I can hear parts in my head switching off. And the play-by-play commentator in my head opens his spiel the same way as always: Welcome to Edwards Stadium.

Contact Seung Y. Lee at [email protected]

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