A Kick In the Grass

I love Clive Toye. He is the quintessential unapologetic Englishman. And who couldn't use an unabashedly opinionated gent like him?*

(*You could argue that Bruce Arena is the closest thing we have to a modern-day Toye. And I wouldn't dispute that. But what Arena lacks is that charismatic, "jack of all trades" persona. Toye did everything. He called his own club's matches on TV. He conducted the local youth clinics himself. He did photo ops with a live monkey. Now, I'm sure Arena does alot things - important things- but you certainly won't hear about him posing for pictures with zoo animals.)

That's why Toye's "A Kick in the Grass" is so wildy entertaining. He isn't afraid to give you a colorful history lesson or three. History according to him, of course. And that's OK. He doesn't pull punches. He's like that old, affable uncle that tells you tales of the fantastic at every holiday function.

Like the tale about how he witnessed the astronomical rise of a fledgling professional soccer league; or the one about how he orchestrated the signings of Pele and Franz Beckenbauer; or the one about the sellout crowds at Giants Stadium; and, of course, the time he played hijinx with a visiting club's keeper. HAHAHA! He roars behind his thick, gray beard at that one, nearly keeling over in his chair at every telling. Oh, Uncle Clive. You bugger.

At least that's how I picture him to be. And it's his storytelling - a unique mixture of candor and unconformity - that leaves you craving more. He was a common man and a visionary at the same time. As the general manager of the Baltimore Bays, he also filled in to do color commentary for its TV broadcasts. He sold tickets at Downing Stadium. And he has the stories to prove it. Important stories. Like the one about the time he explained to Steve Ross and the Ertegun brothers that they HAD to get the New York Cosmos across the border into Jersey to play at the newly-minted Giants Stadium. Why? Well, hell, Pele plays in cathedrals, not chapels. And so it came to pass.

For those lucky enough to bear witness to the NASL in its grandeur, many of Toye's tales will take you back to those halcyon days.* Randall's Island. Tainting the opposing team's Gatorade with Visine (R). Team America. It's all in there. And some will bring you behind the curtain and into the board meetings, beachside kickabouts with Pele, and the unending chase of international talent.

(*You probably knew this already, but the sole reason the Cosmos original colors were yellow, green, and blue was to influence the aforementioned Pele to sign with them. The club's general manager at the time? Clive Toye.)

But for the rest of us - myself included - Toye offers a first-hand glimpse of the dizzying heights pro soccer ascended to years before the letters M, L, and S became synonymous with American soccer. It started on balding pitch with a group of ragtag teams in 1967. It ended in a Manhattan board meeting less than two decades later with the last two clubs that could afford the annual performance bonds.

But everything in between - the merger with the United Soccer Association, the Warner Communications involvement, the Soccer Bowls, etc. - is delivered with such casualness and candor that you wonder whether Toye simply recorded a few extended interviews for transcription and submitted it as his final draft.* And that's exactly why the distinct storytelling of is book is so intriguing. It's not a series of impeccably edited paragraphs, with a ghostwriter molding the stories. It's the exact opposite of David Beckham's polished and precise autobiography. Toye's effort is his clear, unfiltered thoughts. **

(*There is an instance somewhere in the middle of the book - I've been searching for it for the past twenty minutes, in fact - where he openly references the interviewer's tape recording. So it would not surprise if this is were true.)

(**One of the best lines: "In retrospect, it was dafter than anyone has ever said on the PA system at Yankee Stadium, including the resident ogre, 'er, owner, George Steinbrenner, and on par with the utterances of peace and tranquility for all under the reign of the resident owner, 'er, ogre, Saddam Hussein, by Baghdad Iraq's Minister of Information as the tanks and footsloggers closed in on him." Cleary, this is a man who does not believe in the use of an editor.)

In fact, the stream-of-consciousness approach is almost a direct parallel of the league which Toye helped birth. Much of the league's development was ad libbed. Owners bought into the league thinking it would deliver them to the heights as their NFL counterparts. Spend the money and everything will OK. Sign Pele? Sure! Expand to 24 teams? Absolutely! And so on.

There wasn't time to go over the particulars. It was pure, living-for-the-moment thought. And it's one of the reasons why the book, not to mention the league at the center of it, is so fascinating.

Throwback match: New York Cosmos vs. New England Tea Men

(I recently purchased a DVD of a New York Cosmos-New England Tea Men match from 1979. For reasons unknown, I decided to whip out the laptop and compose a little match report. Below, is said match report. Thirty years late. What can I say? I wasn't born in time to crank one out then. Jeez, like it was my fault or something.

Anyway...I know what you're asking: why am I posting it? Pfft. Because I can, that's why.)

June 24, 1979

EAST RUTHERFORD, N.J. -On a Sunday afternoon, the New England Tea Men confidently marched onto the turf at Giants Stadium after triumphing over the defending NASL champions the previous Fourth of July. The 1-0 overtime stunner was easily the club's biggest victory during its first season in the NASL.

Carrying those memories under a hot, summer sun, the Tea Men evaporated amid the conditions and dropped a 0-1 result to the defending NASL champions.

Shortly after the opening whistle, the Tea Men steered an attack on the Cosmos end when Keita took a ball from Ringo Cantillo and raced down the left flank. The Ghanian dusted a defender and cut toward the edge of box, primed for a good look at goal. With the seduction of an early goal before him, he uncorked a shot that sailed wide of the far post.

However, it would be the first of only very few chances for Noel Cantwell's lads. The Cosmos, under the direction of newly-appointed technical director - i.e. coach - Professor Julio Mezzei, grabbed the Tea Men by their orange collars and shook them for the remainder of the afternoon.

First, it was Bogie Bogivic, who's shot screamed over the bar early in the first half. Minutes later, Marinho, from his right back spot, pushed all the way to the doorstep of the box and fired a low shot that forced Kevin "The Cat" Keelin to the ground.

Though the scoreboard remained unblemished at the half, it was only a matter of time before the law of averages prevailed. The Cosmos were attacking at will, while the Tea Men escaped danger time after time thanks to Keelin and some impressive marking of Giorgio Chinaglia by Peter Carr.

During the second frame, the Cosmos opened with an aggresive attack and kept their foot on the accelerator at length thereafter. The Cat was tested often. A close-range shot from Bogie Bogicevic eyed the goal before Keelin's right foot pushed it away at the last possible second.

But Keelin could only do so much with a porous defense in front. On a well-assembled attack, the Cosmos put together a meticulous string of passes in New England territory. Bogicevic fed a pass to an onrushing Ricky Davis, who stepped up and launched a bending 23-yard shot that screamed past the dive of The Cat and buried itself into the orange twine.

From there, it was elementary. The Cosmos kept pressing. The Tea Men kept defending. And clock kept ticking.

Around 2:00pm eastern, the Cosmos got their revenge from the Tea Men, with an impressive 1-0 victory before 46,000+ witnesses.

Goodbye, Yankee Stadium...Hello Autumn

I'm going to start this post with a quote from one of my favorite songs - Don Henley's "Boys of Summer."

Nobody on the road
Nobody on the beach
I feel it in the air
The summer’s out of reach*

(*I admit that the first time I heard this song was the Ataris version of it, which came out in 2003. I remember this because it first reminded me of the 2003 Red Sox a.k.a. the Cowboy Up Sox.)

Yes, summer has expired. I made it to the Narragansett Town Beach only thrice, undertook six credits of summer classes, took many a trip to Fox Point to watch the Guatemalan and Mexican soccer leagues, and finally saw the Revolution beat Houston with hardware on the line. It was a busy season indeed.

While I was buried in coursework, the Revs kicked summer off with a 2-1 loss at Real Salt Lake on June 21st, and finished up with a 1-1 draw to Colorado on Saturday. In between, they got tired. Their defense of the U.S. Open Cup Championship evaporated when they lost 3-1 to D.C. United, this year's eventual champs. They were throttled by Joe Public FC 6-1 on aggregate in CONCACAF Champions League.

It was a tough three months, jam-packed with fixtures for the Revs. Kenny Mansally, Kheli Dube, Matt Reis, Taylor Twellman and Steve Ralston got hurt. Doug Warren made his first start in three years. Shalrie Joseph started a blog.

It's hard to imagine any other MLS club more thrilled than the Revs that summer is finally over.

******

I watched the Final Game at Yankee Stadium last night with a surprising deal of sadness. As a Red Sox fan, I never thought I'd care that Yankee Stadium, the place where many of my baseball dreams wasted away, would soon be taken behind the barn and shot. But in recent years, I experienced a growing appreciation for the Stadium, especially once I learned that soccer was played there going back to the 1930s.

Anywho, this week's issue of Sports Illustrated featured a fantastic piece on Yankee Stadium by Tom Verducci, who eloquently opened it with the following:

I am dying.

It's O.K. You need not feel sorry for me. I have lived a full life. I was born in 1923, the same year as Maria Callas, Charlton Heston, Roy Lichtenstein and Norman Mailer. All are gone now. They did well in the time with which they were graced to strut about the stage. I'd like to think I have done likewise.

Besides, I really haven't been myself since 1973, when they cut me clean open and for two years rearranged most of my vital organs (even the one that nimble-fingered Eddie Layton used to play), removed some of them and put me back together in such a way that I looked nothing like I did before. Picture Jocelyn Wildenstein at 85 and you get the idea.

See, we're just like you, only without the bother of the respiratory and circulatory apparatus. We buildings have a life span too. Time is the undefeated antagonist that takes on all comers. We age and crack and wrinkle and, yes, ultimately die.*

(*Wow. That is some writing.)

Many, many, MANY people forget that Yankee Stadium hosted soccer back in the day. In the 1931, the "other" New York Yankees (American Soccer League) hosted the Glasgow Celtics, and lost 4-1. Pele and Eusebio squared off when Santos and Benfica, respectively, played to a 3-3 draw on September 1, 1968. The New York Cosmos, perhaps the most recognizable American soccer club ever, played the final soccer game at Yankee Stadium on August 10, 1976 against the Miami Toros. It was one for the ages: Giorgio Chinaglia scored five goals - yes, five - and Pele added a pair, including one of the rare bicycle kick variety en route to the Cosmos 8-2 goal-scoring extravaganza.

In August, I traveled to the Stadium so that I could get a first-hand glimpse of The House that Ruth built. It was breathtaking. While I easily imagined the Babe, Joltin' Joe, Yogi, and The Ironman all running along the basepaths, I also stepped back to ascertain the configuration of the soccer pitch.

Ah, there it was.

I could see the Black Pearl, dribbling the ball somewhere in the outfield grass, and cracking a shot from distance. I could imagine Shep Messing, with his wild mane, sprawling to make a save. I could see people who loved soccer thrilled to see it at the same place their baseball and football heroes played.

This was all before my time - but it must have been an exciting time. Pele attracted the crowds like no other soccer player had in American history. People - alot of people - were excited about the sport for the first time when the Cosmos played in Yankee Stadium. Sure, the club wasn't there for long. They would move on to the Meadowlands in 1977 to accomodate the insanely large 70,000+ capacity crowds.

Soccer at Yankee Stadium must have been something extraordinary. The World's Game being played in what many dub "the greatest sports venue in the western hemisphere."

What a sight. I only wish I could have seen it.