Editor: The following is a retrospective on last night’s by Tom Farmer, ardent Louisville City supporter, Cooper, and lover of mythological entities that like to screw with the weather. Enjoy!

Edward Bulwer-Lytton is famous for coining several common phrases, perhaps most notably, “It was a dark and stormy night.” It was a dark and stormy night on which the baser instincts took hold. I had been looking forward to the Wednesday night game the entire, admittedly short, season. As a Downtown Louisville worker the prospect of a quick trip from the office to the party grounds was quite enticing. The promise of lightning and rain could not dissuade a true FC supporter.

A mid-week match was definitely a challenge for the faithful. Could the masses turn out in the face of inclement weather? Perhaps the Louisville general public could not be bothered, but the dedicated supporter groups would not be turned away. The March to the Match, the chants, and everything related proved how crucial The Coopers and other dedicated SG’s are to a viable Louisville City club.

Imagine the disappointment when early in the first half a poorly defended press by Pittsburgh put one in the net in favor of the Riverhounds. Still, the Louisville faithful could not be turned away. Many opportunities presented themselves but none proved fruitful. After 39 minutes the home crowd found themselves down a goal and forced into the concourse by Zeus, or Thor, or whichever deity had decided to play the jackass.

Throughout the multiple delays that followed a few maxims came to light. Firstly, lightning delays offer excellent opportunities for biological relief. Secondly, The Coopers and other SG’s know how to rock a concourse. Drums and chants echoed throughout the stadium. On a night when the FO had asked for visible support the SG’s brought all they had to bear.

At some point the night appeared to be forfeit. The rain and lightning pointed towards an early end to the match. With that in mind a few of the Cooper leadership showed initiative and started to bring up flags and drums. The inevitable next step was hauling the Capo stand across the field and into its resting place. “Yes,” I said, “I must answer the call.” In the face of torrential rain, lightning, and the turf monster, I helped haul the stand across the pitch. This is when things began to fall apart.

In retrospect I would say the amount of alcohol involved would have zero impact on what happened next. How can a man walking across a pitch, with hundreds of Coopers watching and tens of regulation USL balls within foots reach, resist the oncoming urge? Oh Colonel, my colonel, I regret nothing. It was one to nil and the hopes of continuation were quickly dwindling. A goal must be scored! Perhaps the best moment for me personally was the unceremonious collapse onto my fat ass. None of you would have any reason to know, but this had happened to me before. In that case it was a live play in a high school baseball game. But this time it was all fun. Undaunted by my ass landing I rose up and passed to my leader, who put it solidly into an undefended net.

Cheers and high-fives were in plentiful supply, and so were the Louisville Metro police officers. What followed was an exercise in, “You know what you did wrong.” Many of us have experienced this with our parents. Yes, I know what I did was wrong. Yes, I’m apologetic. But am I sorry? Well…I’ll act like I’m sorry. The police may never admit it, but even their attitude was one of, “I have to tell you this because that’s what I’m supposed to tell you.” If I could have I would have bought them all beers.

What the future holds for us is yet to be determined. Technically we could be banned for life. Will this happen? I can’t say. All I know is that in that moment I was truly alive, and I’m purple ‘till I die.