
The trip to Dortmund is a quick 30 minute drive on the autobahn (going around 90mph of course), and for our away games we travel in a 12 person Nissan Euro van looking thing with a big Kangaroo on the back. Anyway, as soon as we got into the city there were thousands of people rushing to get home from a Dortmund Foosball (soccer) match that had just finished. I suddenly felt as if I were in Ann Arbor on a crisp Fall Football afternoon (well nothing can touch that, but it was very close). Everyone was decked out in their yellow and black scarves and it was a great sight to be seen.

To the game. We started out very well and held a 2-6 point lead almost the entire first half. Thanks to some ridiculous calls from the referee, I had collected 3 fouls in the first half and was forced to start on the bench for the start of the 3rd quarter. We played a pretty good game and ended up winning by only 4 but the referees were responsible for about 10 points in their favor.
As it turns out, this was our clubs first road victory in over 2 years. I had no idea about this little fact but I knew something was strange after we celebrated with such exuberance after beating this team by only a few, when I know for a fact that it should have been by at least 10 points. Our club played in a league higher the last two seasons and I guess they went 0-for in all of their road games on their spiral down to the Regionalliga. Pretty cool thing to win on the road but something I have been way to familiar with from my time at Amherst.
I had a dunk in the first minute but would not score again until the 2nd quarter. I had heard that my boys Andrew, Goldy, and Kevin were coming to the game but I think they didn't show up until around the end of the 1st quarter. Maybe it was just my teammates being there, but after a miserable 1st quarter I turned things around and started helping my team down in the post. I was proud of the way I played as I had my pinkie in a small plastic cast and the entire finger taped to my index. I know I like to go left, but it is quite difficult when you don't even feel comfortable catching a ball with your off hand for fear that the wound may open up again and the sheer discomfort of the ball smashing into old bloody stitches.
After the game the A-crew held it down in Iserlohn and we were back to our old habits. A glorious Saturday in my opinion as I was familiarized with the spirit of sports, reunited with old friends, and put an end to an ugly streak of loosing.