Whatever it takes

One play.

That’s all it takes to end a season.

Just one 50/50 ball, just one tackle, just that unrelenting desire to take possession.

Andy Lubahn has known this all along. But this looming vulnerability has only motivated him to work harder, to train with the best, to give himself every competitive advantage possible–even those that at times seemed out of reach. It has also motivated him to be a better teammate, knowing that this fragility inherent to the game spares no man.

Pushing through

On the morning of September 3^rd, 2012, during a routine training session following a 1-0 win over West Virginia the night before, Lubahn went for one of these 50/50 balls, and his leg blew out. There wasn’t the sensation of a pop or a tear at the time of the collision, but rather just hollowness.

Just a racing heart, sweat-burned eyes, and then–his fist in the turf.

Lubahn knew in that split second that his season might be lost. It was a moment in which most would have called for help, weighed down by the paralyzing fear of what could be. But Lubahn, to the surprise of no one on the field, pushed himself to his feet, grimaced and limped quietly to the sideline. It’s what he’s done his entire life: pushed through.

Andy Lubahn is no stranger to setbacks–the fate of being born a soccer player in Erie, Pennsylvania is one in itself.  In fact, it’s the very challenge he has recurrently worked to overcome since he realized playing professional soccer was his calling.

It forced him to leave the all-boys Catholic high school he attended with his twin brother halfway through his sophomore year so he could enroll in the Brad Friedel Academy in Columbus, Ohio.

Then six months later, it forced him to leave behind his friends and family so he could train with a professional team in Brugge, Belgium.

It meant missing his junior prom, a normal social life. Above all, it meant that his teenage years would requisitely be a transitory, solitary existence.

“I’ve made a lot of personal sacrifices just to stay abreast, to stay competitive,” says Lubahn. “When I was living in Erie, my hometown, when I wasn’t getting invited to these camps, I always had a fear that I would maybe fall behind a bit. It’s tough to catch up if you’re not getting into those camps.”

Wake Forest head coach Jay Vidovich recognized Lubahn’s tremendous dedication to the sport when he first coached him on the U18 national team.

“From Erie, Pennsylvania he found his way onto top teams around the state,” explains Vidovich, “and he was around the right type of coaches and mentors there. Those investments that he put into himself–going overseas–he’s very serious about it, and he also had a realistic picture is his head of what it would take to make it to at the next level.”

The bigger picture

You get a sense of Lubahn’s passion for soccer when he explains what scoring a goal, or winning a big game, or celebrating with his teammates means to him.

But his descriptions of these feelings are not palpably emotional. They are subdued, concise, calibrated–a far cry from the overblown generalizations or the attention-seeking bravado characteristic of many of his peers.

In this sense, they’re refreshing.

It’s not that the passion isn’t there; anybody close to the young man knows this.  It just shows through differently: through his intense focus, his methodical game-day preparation, his dedication in the classroom. His unflappability is not solely a product of his ambition, but of his realistic, level-headed perspective.

“I would love to be a professional right now,”  says Lubahn, “but my father’s a physician, my mother’s a hand therapist, so the education piece has always been important to me. I maybe am a bit reserved in the sense that I want to get my college education before I invest everything into the sport, just because of how fickle a career can be and how short it can be. I’m a little reserved in that sense–I just want to make sure I have something I can fall back on.”

This grounded outlook was profoundly shaped by his experiences abroad. The sense of gratitude evoked by having something to fall back on–like a family that supports your dreams, or a country that supports your political beliefs–struck Lubahn poignantly during his time in Belgium.

From nine to twelve every morning, the sixteen-year-boy would sit alongside fully-grown adults who had come to Belgium searching for something he had experienced his entire life, but never truly appreciated: civil liberty.

“So I was in the classroom with refugees, essentially,” explains Lubahn, “from Uganda, the Congo, Afghanistan, Iraq, Turkey, all over the world. It was really eye-opening in terms of socioeconomic status and things like that. A lot of people go to Belgium to seek amnesty. I was sitting in a room with people who had to flee their country.”

Lubahn, on the other hand, had come to Belgium to take his soccer game to the next level.

As hard as it was to live alone in a foreign country at such a young age; as hard as it was to get knocked around in practice every day by calloused pros. As hard as it all seemed, he realized–this was nothing.

Simply living in a country where he didn’t have to escape oppression, where he could shoot on goal without fear of being shot himself, were gifts to be cherished.

Taking possession

After limping off the field that September morning, Lubahn was taken in for X-rays. He learned that he had torn his meniscus.

The prospects of his season were not bright, with surgery in store and no definitive timetable in place for his recovery. The team would have to move on without one of its leading goal-scorers.

Lubahn handled the news of his injury with the same unassuming perseverance with which he had walked himself to the sideline two days earlier.

Granted, he was upset.

In a split second he had been pushed to what his coach calls “the disposable wayside.” But civil liberty was not at stake here, this was a game–one season of a game.

“The injury, even there,” says Vidovich of Lubahn’s response to the news, “was just like, ‘Well, that sucks, but let’s get on with it. Oh, so I’m going to have to get surgery on it now? I’ll just deal with the pain later on in life.’”

It would have been easy for Lubahn to disappear after his knee gave out.

Most would have.

But Andy Lubahn doesn’t let his fear break him down.

He didn’t growing up as soccer player in Erie, Pennsylvania, and he didn’t playing against grown men in Belgium.

This fall, as he sat in the locker room or stood on the sideline, it was what he encouraged his teammates to do as well: to train like a champion, to go for the 50/50 balls, to take possession. His turn will come soon, and he will be ready.

Another 14-year-old in a major? Time for a reality check

This whole kids-teeing-it-up-with-the-tour-pros thing, it’s getting out of hand.

When fourteen-year-old Guan Tianlang holed his 5-footer for par on the last hole at Amata Spring Country Club in Thailand this past Sunday, he must have felt complete control, both over his golf game and over his destiny.

It was a romantic scene, the one that unfolded on the final green of the Asia-Pacific Amateur Championship. For a mere 14-year-old to have claimed the trophy, and thereby earned himself an invitation to the Masters, it was one of the most improbable feats in golf history, they will say.

But for Tianlang’s friends and competitors, the boy’s victory must have produced an initial reaction of equal parts pride and confoundment, inevitably followed by paralyzing blows to their egos.

This is the Masters we’re talking about, after all.

Not the Masters National ProMiniGolf National Championship in Myrtle Beach. No, not the Masters of Golden Tee down the road at Buffalo Wild Wings, either.

The Masters, as in the most iconic golf tournament in the world.

Fourteen years old? Are you kidding me?

Matteo Manassero’s making the cut at the 2010 Masters at the tender age of 16 years, 11 months was mind-boggling, but it was feasible enough to throw grandpa only halfway out of his rocker. At least we could round up and say he was 17. Heck, at the least the kid was in high school.

But this is a kid who hasn’t even reached puberty, a kid who only weighs 125 pounds because Halloween was last week.

The scary thing is, he won’t be the first player of his age to compete in a major championship since the beginning of this calendar year. In June, Andy Zhang, also 14–and also a native of China–played in the U.S. Open at the Olympic Club.

Perhaps the better question is: What in the world are the Chinese feeding these phenoms?

Whatever it is–for the psychological welfare of their peers–it’s got to be taken off the menu.

Trust me. My good friend Isabelle qualified for the U.S. Women’s Amateur when she was 12, and when the school year rolled around, we returned to our old ways. All was seemingly normal, but suddenly my contributions to lunchtime conversations felt more inconsequential than ever before.

Tales of her run-ins with Michelle Wie and Paula Creamer fundamentally trumped my recaps of basement foosball games and bedroom floor-hockey tournaments.

Just imagine how trivial Guan Tianlang’s pals’ stories will sound, how futile their life-paths will appear, when their friend returns from golf’s sacred ground.

Lunch with Michelle Wie? That’s like eating a box of taquitos with Jimmy from the cul-de-sac compared to dining in the Augusta National clubhouse with the game’s greats.

Warming up beside Paula Creamer? That’s like chipping in the backyard with your dad compared to playing a practice round with Tiger Woods.

Not long ago, when a college player qualified for a major championship, it was an extraordinary achievement. Yet now, kids who can’t even legally operate a golf cart are popping up on leaderboards with the seeming ease of signing up for a bowling league.

Latanna Stone, for example, qualified for the United States Women’s Amateur at age 10, this August, by medaling at the regional qualifier in Wellington, Fla. with a two-under 70.  While her friends were braiding each other’s hair at pool parties and playing tetherball at summer camp, Stone was busy training for the biggest event in women’s amateur golf.

You have to feel for those poor ladies who were so unfortunate as to have to play against Stone. The sheer thought of competitive golf can be hard enough on the psyche.

But getting beat by a fourth-grader?

That’s enough to induce the yips on site. That’s enough to make you walk away from the game. That’s why the line needs to be drawn.

Forget growing the game—let’s ensure those already involved in the game continue competing. It’s time golf’s governing bodies require that players at least have a driver’s license to play in our nation’s most revered events. If not for the self-esteem of the youngsters’ competitors, do it for the mental health of the youngsters’ friends. Do it to restore reality.

Expectation manufacturers: What happened to the “pure” sports upset?

Think the term ‘sustainability’ is the most overused, misapplied word in the English language?

Try ‘upset.’ It at least takes the cake within the sports lexicon.

If we consider an upset to be a highly ranked team being defeated by a lower ranked team, then there were six in college football this weekend. And that’s only taking into consideration match-ups featuring top-25 teams.

Granted, some of the upsets were more upsetting than others…Arizona over pre-season No. 1 USC–that trumped Nebraska over Michigan, right?

As ESPN Senior Writer Jeff MacGregor writes in this column, when it comes to the average sports fan’s application of the term ‘upset,’  the gospel of the analysts, talking-heads, statisticians and columnists, like himself, is king. They’re the ones who sculpt our expectations–however substantiated or unsubstantiated their arguments might be.

But increasingly, MacGregor writes, the “pure” sports upset is becoming harder and harder to find.

And it’s not because it no longer occurs.

Rather, increasingly sophisticated statistical analyses can make scenarios once considered wholly improbable now seem–on second thought–not so unlikely after all.

Is all this pre-game coverage actually undercutting the drama of game-time viewing experience?

This sports columnist makes a very compelling case.

Bounce back

My approach shot to number nine in the second round of the 2012 CT Open at Wee Burn Country Club

Hardship is an inherent part of the game of golf.

I’ve learned that the sources of hardship can be quite hard themselves—physically, and to swallow. I’m talking about rocks.

In the first Club Championship I played in, I was all-square in my match against David Williams, the attorney from New York, as we headed to the eleventh hole.

Having won the ninth, I had the honors. My caddie David handed me my 3-wood. I teed the ball up on the left side of the tee box, drew the club back and thwack!

The ballflight I saw when I looked up was a far-cry from the stately draw I’d envisioned. The ball fluttered down the right rough-line like a popped-up whiffle ball, only to dive violently to the left upon reaching its apex. As hideous as the shot was, it came to rest in the left rough, about 140 yards out, with a clear look at the green.

But like a seagull that finds a ditched soda can in the middle of the ocean, I soon discovered that my ball had come to rest on the only rock on the golf hole—a rock the size of a pancake. Had my ball ended up just two inches away from where it sat, in any direction, I would have been able to fire at the pin.

I had no choice but to take an unplayable. The risk of injury was too high. But through my discretion I could only salvage a bogey. And then I bogeyed the next hole, and then the next.

Right there, in that wordless interaction between man and rock, I lost my composure, the match and the Club Championship.

Yet in the days to come, I found solace in the fact that I was not the first golfer to come undone under intense pressure.

Just ask the 1999 European Ryder Cup team them about their 10-6 lead at the “Battle of Brookline.” They needed only 4 points to retain the cup, but the Americans caught fire to win the first six matches of the day.  Before Jose María Olazabal could even attempt his 22-foot birdie putt to halve the 17^th hole in his match against Justin Leonard, the Americans had already stormed the green in celebration.

Fast-forward to this year, when the United States team surrendered a 10-6 lead of its own on Sunday—the deciding putt coming once again on the 17^th hole.

The golf gods sure can seem wantonly cruel. And, boy, do they love irony. But just every now and then they show isolated acts of compassion.

Take what happened to me this summer, on the ninth hole of my qualifier for the 2012 Connecticut Open Championship.

As I watched my tee-shot peel into a marsh right of the fairway, my stomach sank. But I listened carefully.

Clink!

The ball shot out of the hazard as if it were launched from a cannon, landing softly on the right side of the fairway. The grotesque brown scrape I found on its cover told a familiar story: Ball meeting rock. But this time, the rock came to my rescue.

It was just the break I needed.

On the back nine I played eight holes of consummate golf, and despite a shaky 18^th hole, signed my scorecard for a 73—to make it on the number into the biggest tournament of my life.

Despite missing the cut, playing alongside ex-PGA Tour player Ken Green and other Major Championship competitors at a phenomenal golf course was a distinctive thrill I will not soon forget.

It more than made up for the many cuts, bruises and scrapes that I, and my golf balls, have suffered along the way.

Reversal of fortune

Golf is a cruel game–a game whose cruelty is laced with irony.

On Sunday of the 1999 Ryder Cup, Ben Crenshaw and his troops set fire to the Country Club of Brookline, erasing a 10-6 deficit on the final day to pull off the largest comeback in the event’s history. How the American players stormed the 17th green after Justin Leonard holed a cross-country putt to bury the Europeans was a moment that golf fans would never forget.

The golf gods wouldn’t let them.

Flash forward 13 years. Steve Stricker stands over a 5-foot par putt on the 17th green at Medinah in the second-to-last singles match of this year’s Ryder Cup. The matches are knotted at 13-13. But this time, the Americans led 10-6 at the start of the day. This time, they are the ones on the verge of an improbable collapse. This time, the Europeans claim the Cup.

I, too, have been a victim of golf’s cruelty–but my issue hasn’t been blown leads, but rather rocks. A single rock cost me a Club Championship.

But this past summer, the golf gods cut me a break. A rock came to my rescue, and helped me qualify for the biggest tournament of my golfing life.

Let me explain…

For the full story, check back next Tuesday.

The cutting room: Women’s soccer defeats Clemson 4-0

Tony da Luz’s 200th career win received a lot of attention this weekend–and deservedly so.  But it was just one of several compelling storylines from this weekend’s women’s soccer game against Clemson. Here are some that didn’t quite make it into my story.

The stats don’t tell all

The ACC website doesn’t say so, but Aubrey Bledsoe earned yet another shutout for the Deacs Sunday. The 4-0 win would have given her sole possession of the conference lead in shutouts if backup goalkeeper Sarah Small hadn’t been put in during the 85th minute. But because she came up five minutes short, Bledsoe remains tied for the ACC lead with Florida State’s Kelsey Wys.

Protecting the fortress

The Demon Deacons have been one of the best defensive teams in the ACC this season, and they showed us why Sunday, allowing just two shots in the first half and holding Clemson scoreless for the game. On the year, Wake has allowed only 7 goals and has a 0.53 goals against average–both good enough for second-best in the conference behind No. 1 Florida State.

463 minutes

That’s how long it’s been since Wake last conceded a goal to Clemson. My, how the tables have turned. Although the Tigers lead the all-time series with Wake 12-8-3, the Demon Deacons have now won the last six matches between the two teams–and the five most recent games have all been shutouts.

200 wins later, da Luz and Deacons still hungry

By Kevin Tarsa

The motto of the Wake Forest women’s soccer team’s backline is “protect the fortress.” It’s what head coach Tony da Luz drills into his defenders’ heads from day one, as soon as they set foot on the Spry training complex’s pristine carpets of turf freshman year.

In the most basic sense, the fortress refers to the cage, and protecting it, says senior defender Alisha Woodson, means “keeping the ball away from the goal at all costs.”

It’s a mentality that makes the Demon Deacons one of the best defensive teams in the nation, and a strategy that the team employed masterfully Sunday afternoon against Clemson at Spry Stadium, handily repelling any offensive pressure the Tigers could muster and exploding to a 4-0 win.

With the win, the Demon Deacons (9-3-1) climb to fourth place in the ACC with a conference record of 3-2-0. The Tigers remain at the bottom of the league, falling to 5-6-2 (0-5-0 ACC).

As the players made their way to the locker rooms after the game, an icy pool of celebratory Gatorade nourished the lush Bermuda grass in front of the Wake Forest bench. The number ingrained in everyone’s mind wasn’t the 4-0 on the scoreboard, but rather 200.

For the 200^th time da Luz had led his team to victory, making him only the 10^th coach in school history to win 200 games at Wake Forest. The company he joins is elite. Head men’s soccer coach Jay Vidovich and head field hockey coach Jennifer Averill are the two other active coaches with over 200 wins.

But they both have something he doesn’t—a national championship.

“I like that we have been super consistent year to year,” said da Luz. “We’ve been in the NCAA Tournament every year since I’ve been here, so it’s just a consistency thing, and a culture that we have in our team,” he added.

When da Luz addressed the media following the game, he was gushing with pride. 200-110-29. 15 straights trips to the NCAA tournament. Two consecutive appearances in the ACC Championship. Quite a fortress has been constructed, indeed.

“We’ve had great players,” he said. “I’ve been really lucky to have great players and an unbelievable facility here to draw great players.”

Katie Stengel is one of these standout players.  Although only a junior, she’s already broken the school scoring record, and her offensive skill, which has prompted comparisons to USA soccer great Mia Hamm, wreaks havoc on opposing teams’ defenses.

Goalie Aubrey Bledsoe is another. If it weren’t for plays like the one she made in the 75^th minute, diving to her left to deny a penalty  kick by Clemson’s Maddy Elder, the Deacons wouldn’t have made it to the College Cup last year—and they know it.

“Aubrey just does that stuff all the time,” said da Luz. “It just gives the team so much confidence in our backline, just so much confidence to have her back there. You know that you’re in pretty good hands and you’re covered back there.”

And then there are the less salient contributors, like freshman forward Jenai Davidson, who in her first ever start this Sunday netted the first two goals of her career. All of these players mesh together to create a team that isn’t only prepared for success, but expects it.

“We were planning for this game, but we’re planning for the future,” said da Luz.

Many viewed last season’s appearance in College Cup as the culmination of da Luz’s efforts to bring his program to national prominence. Although last season’s run constructed a mantle, the fortress will remain unfinished until there is a national championship trophy to adorn it.

Finished or unfinished, the Demon Deacons will continue to protect it.

Lady Deacs prepared to unleash against Tigers

The Wake Forest Women’s soccer team isn’t just looking for a win this Sunday. They’re ready to torch Clemson’s net.

“We won’t slip up from now on,” said senior defender Alisha Woodson with piercing confidence in a pre-game press conference today with a group of Journalism students.

Wake enters the game 8-3-1 after knocking off No. 4 Boston College last Thursday before suffering a deflating 2-1 loss to Maryland on Sunday.

The setback against the Terrapins reminded the Deacons of the bullseye that has resided on their jerseys since the end of last year’s College Cup run.

“We maybe didn’t realize they were coming out to get us,” said Woodson of her team’s performance against Maryland.

The Deacons know Clemson has them locked in their crosshairs too—and they’re determined to keep it that way.

This week’s game will mark the first time this season Head Coach Tony da Luz has had his entire team suited up for action, as forwards Rachel Nuzzolese and India Winford are expected to return from injuries.

With star-player Katie Stengel also back in the mix, the Tigers (5-4-2) will have their paws full.

“Their defenders won’t be able to touch our offense, if they’re at their best,” said Woodson.

Kickoff is set for 1 p.m. at Spry Stadium.

Without Lubahn, Men’s Soccer plugs along

Ties certainly don’t match the feeling of exhilaration created by a win, but the veteran Wake Forest men’s soccer team accepts them with an unsatisfied calm. Some might call Wake’s 0-0-3 start in the ACC this season inauspicious–but at the end of the day, they’re undefeated in league play.

Expectations are always high in Winston-Salem, but they’re particularly lofty this season.

“There’s a buzz around the team that we can be special this year,” said Lubahn.

In his 18 seasons as Head Coach, Jay Vidovich has molded the smallest school in the Atlantic Coast Conference into a nationally recognized professional-soccer factory. Posting an exceptional 225-87-31 record during that span, an influx of top, young talent every August has become commonplace. This year, College Soccer News ranked Wake’s incoming recruiting class as the top in the nation.

But even with this incredible group of freshman, Lubahn says it’s this season’s senior class that truly distinguishes this year’s team from last year’s.

“I think the past few years we struggled without a ‘legitimate’ senior class, and this year I think the leadership group has done a good job.”

With an overall record of 4-1-3, the Deacons currently hold the #16 spot in the national polls. They’ll return to action this Tuesday against Appalachian State, but for Andy, it’ll be another game on the sidelines.

It’s a frustrating fate, but one he’ll have to get used to. Doctors are projecting 8 more weeks before he can begin training with the team again. He just started hyrdrotherapy this week, or as he described it to me, “a fast underwater treadmill that uses jets to aid in resist training.”

In regard to his knee, “it’s still pretty painful, but it’s improving,” he said.

With no choice but to watch his team play on without him, Lubahn makes calculated judgments about his teammates’ performance. He knows that if they’re to make a run this seaon, there are weaknesses that must first be addressed.

“I think the biggest thing for us will be finding goals, and being able to punish teams”

Vikings snap losing spell against Demons with dominating performance

North Forsyth was up against more than R.J. Reynolds this Friday night at Deaton-Thompson stadium. The record books were perhaps an even more formidable opponent.

The Vikings had lost each of their last four meetings with the larger 4A foe since 2004. But this weekend, an outnumbered and unwelcomed North Forsyth team put 30 points on the board—and beat Reynolds by 24.

With the win the Vikings climb to 2-3, while the Demons fall to 3-2.

North Forsyth head coach Pete Gilchrist said it was his team’s stifling defense, which forced a fumble and an interception in the first half, that kick-started the 30-6 victory.

“The defensive stops early were important because we knew that if they controlled the clock then we would have to put pressure on the score,” he said.

Senior quarterback Trenard Alexander and senior running back Quentin Thompson led the Vikings offensively. Alexander contributed 257 of the team’s 426 yards of total offense, while Thompson scored three touchdowns. East Carolina-bound wide receiver Patrick Green also was impressive, tallying 85 receiving yards on just 9 catches.

Forsyth opened up the scoring at 6:10 of the first quarter when Alexander found Green for a 14-yard touchdown reception. The Vikings made it 12-0 less than three minutes into the second, on a short pass to Thompson, who split the defense for a dazzling 29-yard sprint to the end zone.

On the Demons’ ensuing possession, Forsyth sophomore defensive end Isaiah Huffin picked off quarterback Tyner Bailey’s pass, silencing the neon-clad Reynolds student body. The Vikings capitalized on the turnover, pushing 69 yards into Reynolds’ red zone, and setting up another Thompson touchdown.

Reynolds senior kicker Brady Buchanon had two chances to get his team on the board late in the first half, but missed both field goals, eliciting fiery remarks on the Demons’ sideline as time expired.

North Forsyth extended its lead to 24 about midway through the fourth quarter. The Vikings’ hold over the Demons’ offense prevented Reynolds from scoring until the 4:10 mark of the final period, when Bailey found Ontario Daniels for a 2-yard touchdown reception.

When Forsyth recovered Reynolds’ onside kick at its own 47, the game was all but over, as the Vikings added another touchdown with 1:42 remaining.

“We expected to win—we expected to win the last two weeks,” said Gilchrist.

It was a bold statement from a coach whose team has merely 31 players.

“We felt that in these last two weeks we put ourselves in a position to win, but didn’t make enough plays on offense and defense,” he added.

Forsyth’s recent struggles seemed far-fetched Friday night, as the Vikings outworked the Demons on both sides of the ball and took a rowdy home crowd out of the game early.

“I’ve won State Championships with 22 people, so it’s not going to impact us as long we stay healthy,” said Gilchrist.

With a break from action this week, the Vikings appear to be right on track heading into conference play. They will return to action Friday, 9/28, against Ledford. Reynolds will look to end its two-game losing streak this Friday when they take on Fleming in Roanoke, Virginia.