A Gold Lion moment

The Yeah Yeah Yeahs won two Gold Lion awards back in the day. Rumor has it that their track "Gold Lion" pays homage to those exact victories. However, when you actually listen to the lyrics, you're left scratching your head as to what the song is even about.

It’s as if Karen O took a few pills, had as much chaotic sex as humanly possible, and wrote those cryptic, wild lyrics right then and there. In a sense, though, that gives it a perfect kind of meaning. It captures exactly how wild things can get in the afterglow of a massive victory. Which is precisely how I felt today.

To have this memory now—one that I share with Mike, Alfie, Ponch, Suman, and Gideon? It was hands down the best futsal game ever played.

The match featured goals of sheer power and absolute futsal class, all delivered by the high level of amateur talent on the court. It was so classy, in fact, that you could watch a clip of me getting dropped. That’s futsal’s version of the basketball crossover, and I got crossed the fuck over, man. Fucking embarrassing.

But I had the last laugh.

One minute left on the clock. Score tied at 6–6. Ball at center court. Ponch signaled for me to strike it, and strike it I did. A half-court rocket for the win. A ticket straight to the semifinals.

The ball traveled through the wall of defenders... through the narrowest opening imaginable. Back of the net. 7–6. Game. Set. Match. Bitches!

I owe the scriptwriter of my life a massive bonus for today. The drama was unreal. I am never getting that moment back. Only thirty people actually saw it happen. There were no cameras rolling to preserve it for me—no clips to show off to my friends or turn into a permanent screensaver. In two weeks, the people who watched it will forget. Their heads will be too occupied with accounting and chemistry. In five years, even my teammates will probably let it blur into their mental list of random futsal games.

But it will stay with me. It’s all locked up here in my head. It’s a story my grandkids will probably never believe, and they’ll hate me for repeating it. I have a story that seems entirely too perfect to be true.

But it is true. So, let me be like Karen O tonight. Let me celebrate in a hazy frenzy. Who knows? I might end up writing a hit song, too.