By the dying ten minutes of last Tuesday's 1-1 Toronto FC draw with Pumas UNAM of Mexico in the CONCACAF Champions League, I had wound my way down to the beer garden behind the north end of BMO Field.<br>
It was very plain, at that point, that the match was going to end in a draw. Both teams were generating occasional chances, but it was clear the evening's destiny had set in concrete shortly after Pumas equalized, which came shortly after TFC boss Aron Winter substituted out prolific striker Danny Koevermans for youthful defender Doniel Henry, which had the chance to be brilliant had the visitors not almost immediately equalized.<br>
I'm standing, quietly and anonymously, next to a couple of very English Toronto fans, wearing their red shirts and gamely looking for something to be happy about on a somewhat chill night of somewhat setback.
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Embattled TFC defender Andy Iro -- seemingly acquired mid-season from the Columbus Crew for no other result but to re-convince Toronto fans how crap Columbus really are -- has been caught hopelessly up-field in the Pumas penalty area after yet another attempted TFC two-on-seven scoring attempt has been rebuffed.<br>
"Coom awn, Anndy!" shouts the one fan.<br>
"E's knackered!" remarks the other.<br>
Andy Iro is, in fact, knackered. He pauses, bends and draws in a huge breath, before the long grim trot to getting back in the play. He doesn't need to complete it, though. The Torontos have reclaimed the ball, and are gamely forming up for a three-on-eight.<br>
The Mexicans survive, near-effortlessly, and Andy Iro once again stalls, sighs, and resumes The Trot.<br>
For the few or so minutes that I watched, the poor dear bloke never did make it back to his own end. But the encouragement from the beer-garden Brits continued.<br>
"Coom awn, Anndy!"<br>
Iro attempted two tackles, a couple of minutes apart, just over midfield. He missed one by a mile, and got called for a foul on the other. The first drew a "Coom awn Anndy," the second a hearty chuckle.<br>
TFC actually found itself with Iro caught up field, and striker Ryan Johnson mucking out in the centre of defence. <br>
The point of this vignette is not, solely, to rag on Andy Iro. This is more a snapshot than a sideswipe.<br>
The deeper point is Andy Iro is a luverly bloke, who never especially asked to be in this situation. Certainly, he set sail as a pro soccer player, but he never intended to play for Toronto FC. Nor would he have chosen, after most of a hard night trying to re-prove himself against a team that cruelly exposed his weaknesses in Mexico, to be trapped upfield for so achingly long, as much by the odd flow of play as by his own hard-earned exhaustion. <br>
But there I was, in the beer garden, musing on the deeper question of why so hugely many players play better before they come to Toronto FC -- and again after they leave -- than they ever do whilst wearing the red and gray of one of the strangest sports teams I have ever, ever covered. <br>
Andy Iro will not be back with Toronto FC next season. Odds are, he'll find himself safely back in the midwestern United States, playing MLS soccer for a Kansas City or a Chicago ... or Columbus. And he will be better there than he was here.<br>
This was a touching, passionate sequence, of a well-meaning man, caught out of position, on multiple levels. In the end, it did no damage, and seemed to me neatly -- if not pleasingly -- to capture the essence of a strange transitional season, where no one yet can say what, if anything, Toronto FC has transitioned to.<br>
I just saw a spent lad trying to finish the job with whatever little he had left. And I couldn't help, despite my amusement, to find myself pulling for him.<br>
"Coom awn, Anndy!"<br>
Onward!