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Beckham lines up a free kick. So many they were, I can’t remember if this one went in or not.

It’s late late Saturday night. After 48 hours following David Beckham around New York City, did you think I wasn’t going out after the game? No, not with Beckham, but that’s nice of you to assume. Now to this crazy game…

August 18. New York Red Bulls v Los Angeles Galaxy. East Rutherford, New Jersey, USA, Northern Hemisphere, Western Hesmisphere, Planet Earth. I think.

Look at all the cars. Look at all the tailgaters. Giants Stadium a beacon of interest, announcing itself with letters in that certain ny giants font; they must be two stories high on the side of the stadium. Is this a Giants game? Because it looks a lot like it. An absurdly mild (and thus heavenly) mid-August day. Lots of families. Lots of boozing. Cue the horrible music blaring out of even worse car speakers. Is that a Port-a-Potty I smell. And scene…

Snapping photos. Cars, traffic, tailgaters. What am I doing? Is this showing anything? But its crowds at a soccer game in America. No, crowds at a MLS game in America. It’s still just crowds. I think we all know what that looks like. Picture any major league baseball game or national football league game, add a few soccer jerseys – clearly more Beckham than any other player (only rarely in the dark blue ‘away’ colorway), more international jerseys than MLS and US MNT – and you’ve seen it before. Nothing real special there; if it looks like this next game, then we’ll talk.

press box elevator towers

Both of the press elevators are working. Every other Red Bulls game I’ve attended only had one working. “Yeah, I guess they’re expecting a lot of press today,” the sweet grandma-esque elevator operator said glancing out the exposed glass windows at the building traffic. “Lot of people too. It’s a like a football game.” That that that’s what I was thinking.

in this photograph are more soccer ticket holders than at any previous game

The press room was filling like the stadium outside. Outside and about a mile below. The view feels like watching a video game. You might as well just watch on TV. Truly the days are done when you have to be at the game to report on it. This game is exhibit A, B, and C. Judge? Yes, you can all go home. Thank you Moses, David Hirshey had an extra ticket for me out in the stands. 200-level, the seats in front of the private boxes, the section, the level that is completely empty, and in which I usually sit, for all other Red Bull games, right above the flag from which Beckham hit his first corner kick.

view from the press box

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”

New York, beautiful. That’s what you want. Beckham plays for the Galaxy. The Galaxy are the opponent. You hate them. You boo them. A good boo is my favorite sound, thank you very much Mr. Lipton. Somewhere in the front row, I daydream Spike Lee is screaming at Beckham as he steps up to a free throw kick, presumably one of the several he hammered straight into the Red Bull wall.

Not that he didn’t strike a few balls which the Red Bulls felt obliged to watch as if opossums in headlights. I mean, he hits a nice ball, but this is ridiculous. After the second assist in about 10 minutes, some of my neighbors are crying “Script!” “Rigged!” I’m thinking, this guy has barely played ninety minutes this season and he just tied Reyna for assists *who has managed his battered body through 15 games so far this year. Imagine the Red Bulls using that money on something worthwhile. And don’t get me started on the roster spot Watterus is abusing with what he considers goalkeeping. Him, Meola, and Keller should get a house together in south Florida and call it a life. Thank you for being a friend.

The ball is flying around all over the place. First touch is off off awful. Huge pet peeve of mine with MLS. But riveting none the less tonight. It aint La Liga. It aint Arsenal. But I’ll take it over that wretched Newcastle-Aston Villa game I wasted a few hours on this morning. This is where i would say NINE GOALS!!! if I thought it wouldn’t be an opening for someone to chime in with, “yeah, that’s the only time soccer is exciting.” The goals, the night, were aberrations, but the sport here doesn’t have to be.

Beckham is playing passively; he rarely moves off the ball forward and almost always stops after passing; no give and go here. He could be more aggressive, but he didn’t disappoint and even mixed it up a bit. Make a note and watch as his ankle heals. He was non-existant, noticeably limping along the sideline towards the end of the game. He played 90 minutes. He’s not soft.

Say goodbye to Jozy Altidore: biggest transfer fee in the history of MLS exportation. Mark it down.

Juan Pablo doing it all himself. I hope Reyna took his head up from the Icy Hot long enough to take some notes. Pablo played two positions tonight. With little midfield distribution, he came back to get the ball, working well with Altidore and Dane Richards - or - Thunder and Lightning as I decided I like to call them. T-shirts go on sale next week.

Richards, who was opportunisticly moved to the left side - holy Arena in-game decision - and even found himself turning in and working the ball through the central midfield, looked more like Landon Donovan than Landon Donovan, who did manage to remind you he was in fact also on the field, most notably when he thouroughly embarassed the Red Bulls, dribbling through the team more interested in celebrating than playing soccer.

The crowd was into the game. Watching and reacting in form. Kind of surprising - I was expecting it to be like New Years Eve, amateurs’ night - but like the traffic photographs, this should not have been the expectation or reaction I had. Thankfully, the stadium appeared to be full of caring, attentive, dare I say knowledgable fans. The awkward feeling passes and metamorphoses into hopeless romanticizing: what if every game was like this? It really was wonderful: the goals, the scuffle, the fans, the couple in matching his-and-her Beckham jerseys that I asked to photograph and the girl shot me down as she was forced to wear the jersey by HIM and didn’t want it documented.

I might only increase the vocal crowd support. More yelling. More funny fans, blurting out insane remarks, offending occasionally, but more often than not adding positively to the sporting fare. There’s a half-dozen of those guys in every section at a MLB game and it’s great. I guess I wasn’t helping, all quiet and observant, but get me to Turner Field though…

Speaking of not helping, the Galaxy missed Xavier tonight. Both defenses were just sad. And can I get a vendor. 90 minutes of soccer and one guy comes by once each half with frozen lemonade and Cracker Jacks. No soda or beer or hotdogs or peanuts or big foam fingers. I’m at a sporting event and I’m supposed to get bombarded with over-priced junk food and worthless souveniers. At least give me a guy with one of those giant plates on a pole, but instead of where there would normally be cotton candy, he’s got Beckham jerseys poking out of the holes. That would have made this night truly surreal. Ok, so there was one disappointing thing about the game.

I would have liked to gone to the press conferences – some good quotes no doubt would come from this crazy game (yep, they did; good gets from a guy I met tonight) – but if I didn’t catch a bus, I wasn’t getting home without some begging, walking, and/or hitchhiking. You’d have to have a car to stay that late. Huge drawback to Giants Stadium’s location for those without a car. Ok, so two things were disappointing, but I’d do it again. Other than some Europeans who just won’t ever be pleased with MLS - and hey, why not go to the game in your EPL jersey and whine all night long (idiots) - everyone is leaving tonight happy. Don Garber will sleep well tonight. Now, if you’ll excuse me I have a nightcap scheduled with my DVR.