This Is American Soccer, US Soccer, MNT, WNT, and MLS - Tackling the subject of Soccer in the US, and worldwide.

“Springtime Portland weather is grumpy, almost schizophrenic. It loathes changing from rain to sunshine, instead lurching through contemptuously cranky storm fits in every shade of gray. Every now and then, however, bright lights and rainbows find their way to Oregon.”

Brian Costello was a witness. This is his account of history…

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It was a spring awakening, no matter the scene: huddles of bodies in a non-descript, windowless Hilton hotel ballroom. The anything but secret announcement that Major League Soccer was coming to Portland in 2011 ensured at least some fans would be present. In fact, close to 1000 Timbers-Army-scarf-wearing-foot-soldiers showed. The ragtag soccer militia–lawyers, film critics, punks, designers, soccer nerds, students, brewers, doctors, artists–skipped out on whatever their livelihoods to witness their general/team owner/savior Merritt Paulson accept the hand of MLS’s Don Garber.

And it was good.

Even my son, Declan, 2, was waving his scarf. We parked his stroller and milled about the growing horde of fans. Two huge screens showed highlight reels of MLS and Portland Timbers action. An empty podium stood on a makeshift stage flanked by risers. Rather than the typical logo-infested vinyl backdrop of visual redundancy that hangs behind many a press conference, someone decided to fill it with fans—true Timbers fans. Soccer chants boomed to the rafters ceiling. Someone from Timbers PR spotted my jersey and Declan’s waving scarf and said there was more room on stage (a cute kid works like a VIP pass apparently). We climbed up on the back row, coloring in our little part on the backdrop of history.

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The buzz in the room grew as we waited for the real VIPs’ arrival—who in turn called us fans the real VIPs. Timber Joey—heir to the illustrious Timber Jim—led a trademark chant from the back row of the risers. Declan was wired—clapping and bouncing and watching it all. Finally, moments after the Timbers PR guy told us to “look alive,” Paulson and Garber joined Mayor Sam Adams and City Commissioner Randy Leonard on the stage.

The speeches came: Garber gave Paulson a jersey and Sunil Gulati a shout out (World Cup Qualifers in PDX perhaps!!). Everyone talked about American soccer’s growth and its importance to Portland, an expanding rivalry between Seattle (BOOs rang out from the crowd) and Vancouver (HISS!), and a vibrant young owner harnessing the genuine enthusiasm and excitement of a knowledgeable, lovable, and rabid fan base. More jerseys were shared—one for the Mayor, one for Randy Leonard, and one for the Timbers Army gathered on the risers.

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Later that night, while dusk settled above the wind and below smatterings of rain, the soon to be former version of the Timbers (that will continue to play in the USL for two more seasons) took on the New York Red Bulls in an exhibition pre-season friendly at the illustrious University of Portland Clive Charles Complex.

The Red Bulls fielded reserves and bench players leftover from a 3-0 drubbing the night before with our now common enemy and newly minted MLS-side Seattle. They faced the latest collection of Timbers veterans, upstarts, and trialists. New signee and ex-Galaxy keeper Steve Cronin made some spectacular saves; former Japan 2002 World Cup vet Takayuki Suzuki started his second Timbers campaign with energy and almost connected off a great cross from surprisingly good trialist and fellow Japanese countrymen Takuro Nishimura, and U.S. U20 National Player/Real Salt Lake draft pick/Portland Benson high school alum/on-loan to Timbers midfielder Alex Nimo showed promise. The game ended 0-0.

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But this wasn’t about one game or even this Timbers team. This was about miracles. Early in the first half the skies were gray and wet; the sun was setting. Somehow, cutting through the tall evergreens that flank the college stadium, the sun found just the angle—that once in a lifetime angle that brings you just the right conditions—and a rainbow materialized out of thick air. Timber Joey fired up a chainsaw from the front row, the sweet exhaust fumes of his Shindaiwa wafting in the air. The Timbers Army screamed till they went hoarse for a game that meant nothing.

Nothing except to mark down a miracle—MLS at the end of the rainbow in PDX.

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Writing and Photos by Brian Costello.

Costello previously wrote about the retirement of Timber Jim and a Timbers adult soccer clinic for TIAS. He is a soccer/baseball/hockey/football fan with no off-season from his obsessive fandom. He keeps talking about writing his own blog someday, but for now his work can be found at Batgirl and the Portland Spaces Burnside Blog. Contact Brian at bacostello@mac.com