The Timbers' bus continues to roll along at nearly half past 2 a.m., turning onto I-26 for the final 120 miles to Charleston. The coach is about half and half, in terms of people awake and asleep. I attempted sleep for about 15 minutes, but it was utterly and completely useless. Looks like I'm up for the duration and will powersnooze the second my head hits the pillow at our awaiting Sheraton.
This winning business has become quite routine, wouldn't you say? Seven straight Ws and 10 in a row without a loss is remarkable. The USL engraver can begin etching Gavin's name onto the Coach of the Year plaque now if he/she hasn't already. Worst to first, all but guaranteed a spot in the playoffs and and threating to achieve the best record in team history (USL). Good gravy.
A win later today against the Battery and I'm mortgaging my house for a pallet of lottery tickets.
We're on our third movie so far in the bus. I think the first one was called The Protector II or something like that, followd by Old School and Wedding Crashers. Van Wilder can't be far off.
The stretch between Atlanta and Charleston has to have more Waffle Houses and Hooters than any other stretch of blacktop in the country. They love their greasy spoons and, ummmmm, hot wings (?) here in Dixie.
That's all for now. Hopefully, I won't sleep the entire day away and have a chance to roam the city before the match.