It is a familiar scene when you arrive at any pitch on match-day, unless you arrive way early. I’ve done that, in which instance one sits in the car and finishes their coffee. Not today. The Michigan Stars have opened the gates early. There is a line of fans forty-five minutes before kick-off and Stars are wanding everyone. I don’t think they’re used to doing that but who knows whether some Northern Guard folks might want to spoil the party. There also appears to be plenty of fresh merch to sell. Fans should have every opportunity. Christmas is coming and it’s a long winter.

Before you can get a good look at the players, what strip they’re wearing, who is and isn’t dressed, there are the sounds to hear; the balls making sharp contact with boots then rising into the fading blue of a nearly cloudless sky. There is enough noise in the ticket queue that you might not pick up any chatter until you move closer; coaches urging the players through that routine of dynamic stretching and warm-up. They won’t be doing any of this again until February. You can’t quite hear any of the sideline niceties either. But it seems that everyone wants to talk to everyone else on Championship Match Day. The Cup makes a brief appearance, borne in by NISA officials. Nope, though. They decide to put it back by the fence,. They don’t want any stray punts or passes to send it flying.

You sense that tonight will be quite different than all of the other evenings through which these young players have persevered in sleet, rain, and cramping heat since March. As you round the brick ticket booth and into the confines of Romeo, MI High School’s Barnabo Stadium, there is a discernable elevation in the tension level; something the players will surely feel along with the satisfaction of being here. In the low-pay, itinerant existence of a 3rd division professional league, where dreams persist for young and older players alike, this night is worth the privation.

The Michigan Stars are hosting Albion San Diego for a National Independent Soccer Association Championship. Even among the gals working under the little Stars merch-cabana, there is a palpable excitement. Their usual warm hospitality is, tonight, even more voluble and bright. For his part, George Juncaj, owner and sometimes interim coach of the Stars, seems cool and relaxed. His staff can warm the boys up well enough. At moments he seems to sit on the bench in solitary reflection. Then he is up to greet NISA officials, the evening’s referee and assistants, the Albion staff. It is the micro-management of his baby that cannot be suppressed. He has said that could be the ball-boy if need be.

Of this one can be certain, despite controversies and the, perhaps, misinformed biases of critics, the Michigan Stars and the extended Stars family are central to Juncaj’s life. To be a good host to opponents (food, hot showers, clean towels); a family-friendly host to the sometimes sparse assembly of fans; and a generous, caring leader of young men, are the things he cares about, more than huge crowds and notoriety. Well, tonight he might enjoy just a little of that. A record crowd of 1,178 family and friends (So many youth players from the programs out at the Stars Soccer Complex!) have turned out in support.

That nearly cloudless sky slips toward a still-breezy Michigan sunset. Yesterdays gales have stripped the trees of their last leaves in a forest behind the stadium. Wind and sun will matter at the coin-toss. The sky 30% in shade at kick-off as fans are still coming in. It will be 80% by the 42nd minute.

At 2:25, the cherubic, teenage-appearing Ben Roach (he’s much bigger in person than when you watch him on Eleven streaming sports) makes his first stop for Albion San Diego. At 20:25, Zimbabwean goaltender Tatenda Mkuruva does likewise for the Stars. They will both make more difficult stops during scrums in front of their nets, but Roach needs only to fail once, in the 30th minute. The Stars’ Anthony Bowie tucks in a sharp header out the crowd gathered for a corner kick.

Then, the Stars, with but a few serious forays into the offensive third, will do what they do. They are big and physical and tenacious. When they want to gum up the works (not to say ‘park the bus’) the opposition will find a very high line to break down.

The lines are long for concessions and a bathroom break. When you return for the second half of rugged, defensive soccer and the expected chipiness, a beautiful harvest moon has ghosted out of that dark, bordering woods. The children are getting louder for their parent club and there are thunderous aluminum bleachers for them to stomp. It isn’t a supporter’s group with a drum line and risqué chants. It’s “Let’s go Star-ars! Let’s go!” But to George Juncaj’s ears, it must be music indeed. Maybe sweeter than Queen’s “We Are the Champions,” blaring as the champagne sprays; as so many Juncaj nephews and grandchildren, as well as the Cup, are held aloft.

- Chris Dungey