Running Away From Home Is Only Way Now

One way or the other, deja vu would be visited upon the Sockers Wednesday night.

It would either be a taste of what they have tasted so often in the past--victory, champagne and yet another championship. They had been this way before . . . seven times, to be exact.

Or it would be a taste of what they did not want to taste, another trip to Baltimore in need of one more victory to wrap up an MISL championship.

Crab cakes were not on their minds.

Indeed, Baltimore is not such a bad place. Maybe not a place to vacation, but not a bad place. But the Sockers were less than enthralled with the idea of taking a 2:15 flight today, getting to Baltimore at 11:50 EDT and getting to their rooms at heaven knows what hour with a game Friday night.

This was precisely what happened a year ago.

This was precisely where the Sockers were a year ago.

Up, three games to one.

Playing at home before a huge crowd.

Ready to celebrate.

Pop those corks . . . or at least get the bubbly chilled.

A furious comeback in one of the most memorable games ever played in the Sports Arena got them to a whiff of that champagne and that celebration. A sixth-attacker rally in the last seven minutes got them to within one goal, 3-2, but that was not enough to cancel their airline tickets.

This was much closer and more electrifying than last year in Game 5, what with all the close calls in the waning moments, but still all it gets them in the long run is a long trip.

It was nothing like this in 1989, when Baltimore didn’t even give cause for taking the champagne out of the refrigerator. The final score was 6-3. Unpacked bags were packed, and the whole circus was headed back to Baltimore.

It got frightening there. Baltimore won Game 6 and won it easily, 7-0. The Sockers looked dead in the waters of the Chesapeake Bay.

And then, in a game that was a microcosm of the whole series, the Sockers led, 6-1, in Game 7 before turning it into an adventure. Remember, this team does nothing the easy way. The final score was 6-5, Sockers.

Thus, Wednesday night represented a chance to do something the easy way and do it in front of their fans. They had not finished one of these things off at home since 1986, losing in the Western Division finals in 1987, winning at Cleveland in 1988 and winning you-know-where last year.

For Baltimore, the road to the MISL championship had to run through San Diego . . . and Wednesday night was the last stop. For the Sockers, it would have been preferable that the road to Baltimore be taken by Bob Hope and Dorothy Lamour, thank you.

But it had to be kept in mind that Baltimore had the best regular season record in the MISL at 32-20, and the Sockers were a rather mediocre 25-27. Obviously, the Sockers, waving their usual post-season magic wand, were greatly improved, but they weren’t exactly playing a barber shop sextet from Towson.

So it didn’t figure to be easy.

The Sockers, in fact, dominated the first half and still trailed, 1-0. The Blast got a first-period goal on a neat pass from Mike Stankovic across to Dominic Mobilio at the far post. This was about the only opportunity the Blast had in the first half . . . and it cashed in.

The Sockers, meanwhile, were playing as if they were (a) interested in staying home and (b) thirsty. They kept the heat on Blast goalie Scott Manning, creating opportunity after opportunity. At one point in the second period, a beleaguered Manning called a timeout . . . presumably to check for powder burns. The Sockers just could not finish what they started, just a click or a tick or, more often, a kick away.

And as they did a year ago, they found themselves 30 minutes away from either exhilaration or a dreary journey with much more work to be done.

Now the game itself was developing its only little touch of deja vu , a feeling that it had been that way before.

The Sockers continued to kick everything but Shamu in Manning’s direction, not in little trickles now and then but in relentless torrents. It continued to be the same story. It seemed as if some great airline in the sky beckoned their presence on a flight to Baltimore.

As is often the case when a team is attacking so fervently, it is open to counter-attack. Another rare Baltimore opportunity came on one of these occasions, and the score was 2-0. Another counter-attack goal early in the fourth period, and the Sockers were left to attack in furious but ultimately futile desperation.

Now, once again, they know their destination. What they don’t know is their destiny.