Where's your place?

I think everyone has a place.

A place you go to when things get tough, sad, stressful.  A place where when you close your eyes, you are far away from the current state of affairs.  Maybe you stay for a brief moment, a quick getaway to get you back on track.  Or maybe you stay as long as you can, recalling all of the sights and sounds and smells of that place.  I have one such place from my soccer life and it's SO SWEET.

It was the summer of 1994 when the World Cup was in Detroit and I was working as Competition Manager for the Organizing Committee.  The Swedish national team was practicing at the lower field at Oakland University, their chosen training site while in Detroit.  Their training was "closed", meaning neither the public nor the media could attend.  There were just a few of us there, our security director, a medical officer, Gary Parsons and a few other OU guys. 

I sat alone on the grassy hill on the far side of the field and remember feeling so lucky to be there.  I was extremely busy that night (the World Cup was in town, for pete's sake), but I was absolutely conscious of the fact that this was a special moment to savor.  It was around 8:00pm and the day had been hot.  The sun was beginning to set behind OU's campus and a slight breeze began to push the humidity away.  I marvelled at the brilliant green pitch that almost seemed to glow.  We worked so hard on that field and now it was near perfect.  

It was surreal to watch the Swedish players train.  Henrik Larsson, Martin Dahlin, keeper Thomas Ravelli all doing the exact same drills and runs we've all done as kids, and have coached as coaches.  Same but different...these guys were warming up for the biggest games of their lives.  Sweden would advance to the quarterfinals and beat Romania in San Francisco - but they didn't know it yet.  They would play a tough semifinal match against Brazil, but would not see the Rose Bowl finals.  But we didn't know it yet.

My place had a wonderful, private view of the best soccer players in the world.  It smelled of just-cut grass and was as perfect as perfect can be.  I sat in soccer heaven for 60 minutes taking it all in. Then, just when I thought it couldn't get any better, I heard a sweet, smooth sound coming from the east.  And just like the Grinch when he hears the Whos down in Whoville, the sound started in low and it started to grow.

The music was coming from Meadowbrook's amphitheater. It floated through the woods, over our field and into my place. It was Ray Charles live singing "Georgia on my Mind" and it was amazing.  After a slight case of the goosebumps, I smiled and giggled as I laid back on the grass. 

"This is the life," I thought and this is my place.