"There are two tragedies in life. One is to lose your heart's desire. The other is to gain it."
- George Bernard Shaw
So, here we are.
Within eight hours of this writing, Canada will have either knocked its hated rival Honduras out of World Cup qualifying and advanced to the Hex... or vice versa. There is no middle ground. No scoreboard-watching. No excuses.
Utter, unrestrained ecstasy or bitter, implacable agony. No third option. And no way to truly prepare for either.
The scenario couldn't be any better for the Canadian men's national team and its fans -- but it also couldn't be any worse.
[PRBREAK][/PRBREAK]
If you'd asked us at the beginning of the qualifying campaign, we'd surely have said we'd be delighted to have our fate in our hands, needing only a draw on the final matchday of this round to reach the Hex for the first time since 1997. It would beat the hell out of the early flame-outs the team has endured in the last few qualifying cycles.
But if you'd added "... and that game will be in Honduras, and their World Cup fate would also be on the line", well, that would give even the most optimistic Voyageur reason for pause. Putting aside the hostile environment, the heat and the inevitable bags of urine being hurled from the stands, funny things seem to happen when Canada plays Honduras.
"Funny" is, nearly always, not a good sign for the Canadian team.
Sometimes, though, it is. The funniest, and most improbable event in the history of the Canadian men's national team came in St. John's, Newfoundland on Sept. 14, 1985. A 2-1 victory in front of a raucous crowd put Les Rouges into the World Cup for the first (and thus far, only) time. The opponent, whose own World Cup aspirations were crushed on that day?
You got it: Honduras.
A result in San Pedro Sula today wouldn't come close to matching that victory in terms of absolute significance, but it would be the men's team's biggest result in a generation -- and a wonderful topper on a remarkable year of Canadian soccer that's been highlighted by the women's national team's unexpected Olympic medal.
But really, you know all this. You know the scenarios, you know the team's issues (who's going to score? can the so-far-excellent defence hold up in such an environment? will Stephen Hart be able to adjust to the circumstances? does the team have the mental strength to get it done?).
Our role, right now, is not to pretend that we can predict what is going to happen down in San Pedro Sula. No matter what anyone says or does, there are three possible outcomes to this game, any of which could realistically take place.
Our role is to hold our breath, bite our nails and stare at a screen for 90 minutes of the most excruciating sporting event most of us have ever witnessed.
And then, when it's all over, to come back to this site, to the other CanSoc sites, to the online discussions, to the pub discussions, and to bandy around our answers to the question "Can you believe that happened?"
This day is all we would have wanted, and all that we would have feared.
But if our boys in red can suppress the fear and seize the golden opportunity they've created for themselves, then maybe -- just maybe -- we'll all be OK.
.