In case you’ve been living under a rock or hiding from the Coronavirus in your Adam Morrison Apocalypse Bunker and haven’t heard, FC Cincinnati is taking us on another trip down memory lane tonight with their “Nonstop Flight” documentary.

“Nonstop Flight,” as of right now the only one in Cincinnati thanks to the collapse of the airline industry, promises to be a tour-de-force of the long and storied history of FCC. And you know it’s going to be in-no-way-biased because it’s being brought to you by 4th Floor Creative – the Pravda of Cincinnati Soccer Media, featuring journalistic credibility that rates on par with “Mean Gene” assuring you that *this* month’s Pay Per View is certain to be the most important show in WWF history (although, can you imagine how hilarious if Tommy G made this his Hulk Hogan “Bash at the Beach” moment, and went full fucking heel for the entire 120 minute runtime, epically shitting on the club for everything they’ve done the past few years? Rolling out that 99-year-old displaced tenant for an exclusive tell-all interview? Ripping off his suit to reveal a Detroit City FC tank-top, because I assume they’re too cool for sleeves up there, and spray-painting “DCFC4Life” onto Jeff Berding’s blue windowpane suit? Incredible.). Amazingly, the club actually found someone to run what amounts to a 2 hour infomercial on over-the-air television, no FloSports subscription required. And, with nothing else to watch tonight (other than the Cincinnati Reds, where the only real excitement coming from waiting to see if Chris Welsh will join his buddy Thom on suspension by dropping a random 1960s racial slur out of nowhere), I’m sure I’ll throw it on. But, I find myself asking the question: “Why does this exist?”

Maybe I’m just salty because it feels like the FCC offense has been ordered by the state to quarantine away from the goal indefinitely, but doesn’t it strike anyone else as ridiculous that a club founded in 2015 needs a 2 hour retrospective documentary already? I know 2020 seems like it has lasted a decade but come on -- I have uncleared notifications on my phone older than this club. I don’t need to watch a fucking documentary to see the Okoli’s Scissor Kick or hear the fifteenth retelling of the “This Club Was Founded at a Kitchen Table™” story. They weren’t that long ago. This would be like if they released “The Last Dance” while Jordan was still playing for the Wizards – you’d be interested (because it’s Michael Fucking Jordan, the most compelling compulsive gambler this side of my co-worker, who repeatedly claimed “condoms are for cowards!” right before he knocked up his ex-GF) but you’d rightly wonder why the fuck they were releasing a documentary about shit you just got done watching a second ago. And, to complete the comparison, you’d be forgiven for cynically thinking the documentary was being released to distract you from the mediocrity going on in the live games (historical spoiler alert: Wizards-era Jordan was kinda lame).

I’ll go one further and say that it’s borderline ridiculous that a club *this* young is already trying to trade on nostalgia. It would be one thing if we actually, you know, won something in the “glory days” of FC Cincinnati. But, we didn’t. We got dog walked by our rival on a regular basis (stop me if this is sounding familiar) and were dumped out of the playoffs every season without even sniffing a trophy. The one on-field thing that was objectively memorable about the team itself during the formative years (besides every player inexplicably getting worse as soon as they put an FCC kit on) was the much-discussed US Open Cup Run. Now, don’t get me wrong – those games against Columbus, Chicago and New York were fucking incredible. We could (and, by the looks of things, very well might) lose a million more games to the Crew, but it will never change the fact that we beat them clean on a goal scored by a washed dude with 2 bum knees that we’d signed on a free from the Kazakhstan Premier League. That’s some shit you don’t ever want to forget. But, at the end of the day, we didn’t win the cup. So, congrats – we’re now the mid-major college basketball team hanging a banner for making the Sweet 16.

Me? I enjoy the past, especially with this club and what we all have experienced, but I’m ready to move on from it. How about we talk more about when we’re going to score a fucking goal? Or maybe what the grand vision is for Gerard and Jaap that we’re building towards? Something to make me think there’s a light somewhere and not just more tunnel. Every other sports team in town lives perpetually in a state of remembering how great shit used to be – I’ve seen enough grainy footage of the Big Red Machine and Oscar Robertson to last a fucking lifetime. My wish for FC Cincinnati is to be one the team in town that dares to focus on the future.

Anyway, see you tonight on WCPO.

PIGLETS (aka Other Thoughts to Fill Out the Column):

It wasn't Manu who parked his car on I-75

• - Related to the above, here are five things you absolutely won’t hear about in the documentary but should: The complete details of the plan to make FCC a full-on “Medieval Themed” club (aka “Ever wonder where the term ‘The Bailey’ comes from?”) complete with halftime beheadings, the story of the (unnamed) player who stopped his car and parked in the middle of I-75 because he got lost and needed a team employee to help him get home, a summary of the USL’s weekly changing rules because they needed cash and knew FCC (unlike other teams) had the money to pay fines, a retelling of “Motherfucker-gate” involving profanity being shouted through a megaphone and a Cincinnati Reds legend lodging a formal complaint, and the tale of the elaborate effort to sneak a Wacky-Waving-Tube-Man into Slugger Field.

• - MLS is apparently set to release the next phase of its schedule this weekend. How much money would it take to get Anthony Fauci or the CDC to declare that charter buses cause COVID? Because fuck any more trips to/from Columbus for the rest of this year. I get it, they’re close by – but maybe we should give some other team, like say Nashville, a chance to build a rivalry and get their shit kicked in for a change. Let Uncle Carl send a few Ultimate Air Shuttles to Inter Miami or some other team that sucks so that we can at least have a fighting chance in some of these remaining games.

• - I got accused of grabbing for “low-hanging fruit” in last week’s column about Anthony Precourt and the genius of leaving Columbus. Here’s some more: the match on Sunday (with 1,500 spectators in attendance) looked absolutely no different than your average Crew match over the last few years. And, if you need any proof that the city doesn’t give a fuck about anything other than yelling O-H! at the top of their lungs, witness the fact that there were actual FCC supporters at that match. Tickets limited to 1500, the best team in MLS by a longshot, and there were still enough seats left over that people from Cincinnati were able to drive north and watch the game. Pathetic.

• - If FC Cincinnati is looking for a good gimmick for the new stadium, they should arrange to have an Oktoberfest beer (a “Marzen” for all you beer dweebs) on tap year round. I say that not because it would be tremendously fitting for a city that is known for having the largest Oktoberfest in America, but because Oktoberfest beer is fucking incredible and it’s a god damned crime that it goes away before October actually arrives. There’s nothing worse than finding yourself on a nice fall day and going to the store to pick up an Oktoberfest only to find they’ve already switched shelves to whatever fucking travesty they’ve brewed up for November (I’m sure Streetside is already working on a Turkey & Potato sour for Craft Beer Facebook to crank it to). If the Pigs ever come into enough cash to start a brewery, the only two rules we’re following are 1.) The word “artisanal” is never to be used under any circumstances and 2.) Always have an Oktoberfest beer on tap.

• - They made a movie about Greg Garza. It’s called “Dead Man Walking.”

That’s it for this week folks. Until next time, see you motherfuckers in the thunderdome.