The Cable Snapped, or Innocence Lost
By: Vidda “JibJab” Grubin
September 7, 2014 (Amended January 16, 2017)
{The below is an update of a piece I wrote over two years ago. Given the trajectory of Major League Soccer, I thought a redo was in order.}
The cable snapped…twang…quietly. The auditory nature of the
“twang” made sense, the cable was made out of Twizzlers. The kids picked up the
scatted pieces of red deliciousness quicker than a soccer mom, or dad, can peel
an orange.
The game was over and Tommy and Timmy had somehow found a
way to tie Twizzlers around their two dirt and grass-stained soccer balls.
After circling the individual balls in sugary goodness, the two friends got the
idea to tie the balls together with the remaining stretchy lengths of candy.
Gabbi, the goalkeeper for the under seven Squarepants
Middleburg Youth Soccer Association team, had shouted “See how far you can
stretch the balls apart.” Her declaration of childhood ingenuity was met by a
raucous cheer from the rest of the Squarepants team.
Tommy and Timmy began pulling, slowly, the two balls apart.
Time seemed to stand still as the small group of six and seven-year-olds (scraped
knees, runny noses and bed hair) leaned closer. One or two attentive parents
joined the time altering fun.
Six inches apart, seven, eight and then…twang…quietly. The
picking-up and eating of the Twizzlers was accompanied by shouts of “Don’t eat
that!” and “Gross!” Not a single child present remembered the game which had
ended only five minutes earlier.
One particular dad remembered. He was busy waving his hands
wildly at the 13-year-old referee. Words were coming out of the crimson faced
father’s mouth. Something about offside and something about the Squarepants’
opponents, The Fiddlesticks, deserving to win. The 13-year-old ref stared,
slack jawed, at the wild-eyed father. And then, the 13-year-old walked away, while
mumbling “Wow” under his breath.
Like that Fiddlesticks father, North American soccer has
finally made it to the edge of reason. North American soccer’s version is the
billion-dollar, sports as big time business precipice. Major League Soccer has
pushed the beautiful game up the rocky slope. There have been casualties along
the way. The Tampa Bay Mutiny come to mind. There have been near disasters.
Paul Caligiuri almost having to play more than a single season in Columbus,
Ohio may have destroyed what little credibility MLS clung to in its infancy.
Don Garber, Major League Soccer’s billionaire owners and
wanna-be owners want to push our sport over the edge and into the rainbow,
unicorn and pot of gold filled valley below. The LeBron James, Mark Cuban,
Jerry Jones, Tom Brady and Derek Jeter filled valley.
For many soccer fans, myself included, the trip up the
mountain has been fun, a kind of affirmation of the bullied child’s life and
dreams. For many soccer fans, like myself (somewhere between 45 and 60 years
old), the thought of riding the unicorns and digging in the pots of gold is
both quiver-inducing and nauseating.
We want to see the world’s greatest players on our Columbus
Crew, Chicago Fire, New York Red Bull, Seattle Sounders and L.A. Galaxy. We
want to watch youngsters born and raised in the United States command
Messi-like respect. But we grew up with a chip on our shoulder. We carry that
chip proudly. That chip helps define our soccer minds. That chip is as big as a
boulder taken from the mountainside as we climbed higher and higher. That chip
is made of taunts like “Soccer is for sissies. Why don’t you move to France if
you want to play that commie sport? Soccer will never be big in the United
States.”
Despite the rocky past, we cherish Saturdays at the park
with our children. We look forward to a Thursday evening beverage remembering the
ferociousness of a shot, the creativeness of a pass shared with the handful of
lucky travelers who played the game alongside us in the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s.
Our sport was our special secret, only the chosen few knew what made it shine.
Now, North American soccer is about to leap into a world of
cocky, self-assured prominence. There is no room for hard-won boulders. What
are we supposed to do with all those boulders? So many un-answered questions.
Will there still be room for size four soccer balls wrapped
in Twizzlers? Or, perhaps more importantly, for the adult equivalent of size
four soccer balls wrapped in Twizzlers, hidden coolers of beer dragged
triumphantly from beneath team benches, flung open, contents emptied in a
glorious celebration of the local team, it’s fans and caretakers winning the
right to play at the next level?
You know, those boulders might just come in handy. Strap
them on. Wear them proudly; because, there is one universal truth about our
sport. The more human beings who feel a direct connection to the ball, the
field of play, the teams, the players, coaches and fans, the greater the magical
players become, the more vivid the magical moments shine.
We and all those who came before us, and our children after,
those who slogged through mud puddles, spent hours juggling into the night,
used trashcans for goals and cracked shins created the opportunity for the handful
of businessmen who started Major League Soccer. It is our boulder to carry, and
that boulder is shared with hundreds of millions around this beautiful planet.
Those who think they “own” the sport of soccer
in this hemisphere must earn their place among us. There is nothing stopping them,
the United States Soccer Federation and Major League Soccer, from regionalizing
soccer (the blueprint is already in place at the youth level) in this country
from the very bottom to the very top. There is nothing stopping the USSF and
Major League Soccer from implementing a standardized set of criteria/rules for
promotion and relegation within each region. There is nothing stopping the USSF
and Major League Soccer from beginning promotion and relegation in the lower
divisions and promotion only into the top tier, MLS, when teams in the second
tier win their way in and meet the set criteria for top level play.
Would Major League Soccer want twenty years before a single
team is relegated from the top tier? So be it. Give them twenty years. Do they
want 7 or 8 teams per region, per level and five or six regions? So be it. This
is a large country and close proximity of regular competition brings us all
greater joy. Would Major League Soccer still want a championship among the
winners of each region? So be it.
In a weird way, it is our burden, those wearisome boulders,
which may reconnect the frayed and snapped cables of North American soccer. It
is all of us who bear their weight who must bring, kicking and screaming if
need be, USSF and MLS back into the beautiful game’s wide open soul.
