Poetry Corner Kicks: Toronto 1 - Union 1

What was I saying last week about a point on the road feeling like more than a point? Well, a point at home against TFC somehow feels like less than a point. Don’t get me wrong, it is great that the Union were able to battle back, in spite of a questionable call reversing a game-tying goal, and getting the point. It was also great to see 18 shots. After all, you can’t score if you don’t shoot. I feel like a broken record saying this, but it all comes down to finishing those chances. That and not encountering a goalie that just happens to be having the best game of his life in the history of ever.

The Union playing at their house
Against the Reds in their backyard
The game’s high hopes were quickly dowsed
As Stoica made a house of cards

The first half of the game was blah
With many chances gone awry
From Casey, Cruz, and Bob Earnshaw
And thus we bid this half goodbye

Bendik then would catch a fire
To keep intruders from his pen
And though his efforts we admire
It drew the ire of Sons of Ben

Earnshaw then blew by the U
And left the defense in the dust
He chipped his shot, his aim was true
His flipping joy caused much disgust

Then the subs were called upon
To push the Union toward their goal
Marfan, Hoppe, and Kleberson
Would help them dig out of their hole

But Stoica soon would make his mark
As Jack and Morgan soon would find
His whistle blew throughout the park
It made the watchers lose their minds

Then in minute ninety-three
From off the boot of Cap’n Jack
Came the shot that would decree
The Union had come storming back

Hoppenot would have a shot
To score and let the Union win
But Bendik did as goalies ought
And saved the strike to Hoppe’s chagrin

Eight points from the six games played
Is good enough to find sixth place
But finishing can’t be delayed
If they’re to give a playoff chase