As I'm sure some of the more astute readers of this site and elsewhere have noticed, the winner of the Cascadia Cup will be determined following the outcome of Seattle Sounders and Vancouver Whitecaps game being played this Friday evening. You might think it's not a big deal, not as big as the Lamar Hunt US Open Cup Trophy, the Dewar Cup. You might not think it's as big as winning the Supporter's Shield, or maybe even winning the MLS Cup. Those three trophies come with it qualification to the CONCACAF Champions League. That's a big deal guys. We bleed Green and Blue here; eternally and forever.
But you're wrong, and I'll tell you why. Maybe. I might tell you why, or I might just tell you that you're wrong and leave it at that. It's not because it's more prestigious or comes with allocation money or berths into international tournament. No, it's because it's ours. And we want it back.
You see the Sounders haven't won the Cascadia Cup since 2011. That's a long ass time ago. The most successful movies of 2011 were Transformers and Harry Potter and Twilight. And that shit's been around forever. Ancient. So where has the Cascadia Cup been since it was last lovingly housed in the only city that truly cares? Portland. And Canada!
I know. Ridiculous, right? What would something that belongs to Seattle be doing in a town like Portland? What would something that belongs to America be doing in a country like Canada? That's how wars start, Canada, haven't you watched Hollywood these past few hundred years? Or are you just now starting to get moving pictures there? I can't wait for your first feature: The Great Moose Detective.
Portland absconded with the Cascadia Cup in late 2012 and kept it in their city until they heard they'll have to pay taxes on it (to note: I'm not entirely sure how taxes work). Then in late 2013, a city in Canada called Vancouver took the Cascadia Cup and still has it in their possession. That's all the history you're gonna get out of me, because I'm not a historian. Oh no, what I am, dear friends, is a spy. And I'll tell you how.
I went to Portland in early 2013. It was harrowing. I nearly died. It was my ironic mustache that saved me. I went there for Seattle. Eternal Blue Forever Green, guys. I pretended to be a tourist, visiting their museums and their restaurants, frequenting their shops both of clothes and books. I even talked to a local maybe once I don't remember. I ate pickled eggs for Seattle. I didn't pay taxes for Seattle. I got lost in Powell's for Seattle. That whole time, do you know what I didn't see? The Cascadia Cup! Why not, you may ask? Because they probably didn't even know they had it! Once they found out other people kinda wanted that Cascadia Cup and thought it was cool, oh no, goodness no, they couldn't have that anymore. They don't do "cool" in Portland.
Merritt Paulson, professional umm... uh, professional owner of expensive things? See, he owns the Portland Timbers, the team who stole the Cascadia Cup all those years ago, and he literally has no idea what he's doing. Take this evidence as an example.
See, I heard he got an expensive formal education, I just didn't know it was at the School for Kids Who Can't Read Good and Want to Do Other Stuff Good Too. That's their fearless leader. The man might be certifiably crazy. I should know, I watched Shutter Island once so I'm kind of an expert in Psychiatry. Of course they lost the Cascadia Cup. Of course it wasn't there when I sneaked into their city. He probably put it in his bedroom to keep all the spooky ghosts away. Yeah, that's right, the Cascadia Cup has anti-ghost properties. Neutrino wands and particle accelerators for days, yo. But my time in Portland was over. I learned what I needed to learn and came back with my findings.
But before anything could be done about the misplaced Cascadia Cup, those dastardly Canadians stole it for themselves to appease their Great Moose Overlord! If you've heard anything about GMOs these past few years, it's all negative press, how evil it is, how against the laws of nature it is, etc. Yeah, that's pretty much Canada in a nutshell. Canadians... so shifty.
Knowing how brave I am, it shouldn't surprise to hear that this past weekend I was sent on a mission to Vancouver, to infiltrate the city and to bring the Cascadia Cup back to Seattle. I had to act the part of the local, so as not to rouse suspicion, so I grew a convincing beard and wore a flannel shirt. Perfect disguise! What I discovered was eye opening: the people of Vancouver are blissfully brainwashed. Their Prime Minister, the Great Moose Overlord, Moose XXII, had his citizens right where he wanted them, and I slid right in. Once I secured an oversized lollipop, I visited their famed aquarium, for I had suspicion the evil GMO would not trust human hands with the Cascadia Cup.
What I found there was appalling.
Dolphins were doing flips. Beluga whales were swimming in the sunlight; in the direct light from the sun! But nothing compares to what I saw at the otter encampment. Otters. Ugh. I shutter to think of them. There were two of them, and they were a team. The first held his tail up to his conniving otter face and shook that thing like there were loose toonies in it. The second, my goodness, I'm not sure how to describe what I saw, yet it encapsulates Canada under the rule of Moose XXII and his Entmoose perfectly, so I must. The second otter looked me square in the eye, picked up its own tail with both paws, and buried its face in its ass. Then it started spinning in circles, top over bottom, faster and faster.
It was on to me! My disguise, while clever enough not to rouse suspicion from Canadian Humans, could not fool a Canadian Otter, trusted henchmen to the GMO! I left the aquarium posthaste, running past a coyote chasing black squirrels, my oversized lollipop forgotten. But I didn't leave town. Not yet. I had one more stop to make.
The Whitecaps, puppets of Moose XXII, were playing Dallas that afternoon, so I ran across countless bridges and made it to the stadium right after kickoff. I was immediately greeted by a giant bird named Spike. It drummed a gigantic drum in my ear and I thought I was cooked, guys, I really thought I was done for. But Spike was none the wiser, the idiot. He didn't know there was an enemy in its midst. Birds. So stupid.
So I chased that bird down. I caught it between my two American hands and I held it over a ledge, threatening to drop it if it didn't cooperate. "Listen here, Spike," I said. "I've had enough of Canada's bullshit. That Cascadia Cup belongs to Seattle, so you'd best bring it back within the week and you'd best then go home without it. Do you understand? Drum once for yes and twice for no."
"Yes, yes," I confirmed. I left Spike alone and dazed, and left that crazy country lickety-split. Canada, man, it's a wild place.
But now here we are, the Cascadia Cup is back in Seattle again, and in Seattle it shall stay; eternally, and forever. For the Cascadia Cup was forged for Seattle as a display of dominance. The Dewar Cup, the Supporter's Shield, the MLS Cup, yes, those are nice, those are fancy, and they come with their own plaudits. But they were not forged from the fire of the Cascades, the lumber of the Pacific Northwest. Nay, they were probably made in some factory in Gary, Indiana. And have you ever been to Gary, Indiana? That place is gross as shit.