Playing For Keeps

The members of the 1999 World Cup team had to do two things to realize their dream of a professional soccer league: stick together and play hardball

By Michael Silver

A thriving women's pro soccer league would make players like Tiffeny Milbrett (left) jump for joy.  Jamie Squire/Allsport

Tears came streaming down Julie Foudy's cheeks as she stood on the lush grass of RFK Stadium and prayed she wouldn't make a scene. Hearing the final notes of the national anthem and the roar of 34,148 fans in the nation's capital, Foudy wished she could sink into the turf. Concealing her moist eyes behind a video camera, Foudy, one of the 20 founding players of the Women's United Soccer Association, recorded the moment for posterity: It was April 14, a minute before the start of the inaugural match between the Washington Freedom and the Bay Area CyberRays. As Foudy, the longtime captain of the U.S. national team, scanned the faces of her cofounders and fellow World Cup heroes, including Brandi Chastain and Mia Hamm, she realized she wasn't alone.

"We were all crying -- and then we all started laughing," Foudy says. "We had fought so hard for this league, and there was such a feeling of accomplishment that the emotion overwhelmed us."

In the two years since their 1999 World Cup win over China, these 20 players have hung together unflinchingly to achieve their most cherished goals: a professional league, gender equity and the chance to leave a legacy for generations of young women.

But what a long, strained trip it's been. The frenzy that followed their World Cup victory -- appearances on David Letterman, a visit to the White House, an outpouring of affection from millions of fans -- was dampened considerably by the chill the champions felt from their own governing body, the U.S. Soccer Federation. "There was so much pressure to win the World Cup, because the future of women's soccer was on the line," recalls forward Tiffeny Milbrett. "But it was frustrating after we won, because even though the rest of the world tapped into what we were about, our own federation still didn't get it."

It wasn't the first time the two sides had clashed. Several months before the World Cup, team members had tried to convince the USSF of their grassroots appeal -- a phenomenon that sparked their dreams of a domestic league -- only to have federation officials contend the women weren't marketable. Believing otherwise, the players enlisted the help of SFX, an outside sports marketing agency, after the World Cup to organize the 1999 Victory Tour (a series of indoor exhibitions in 12 cities around the country). In the wake of the victory USSF president Bob Contiguglia wanted to organize his own tour -- or do away with one altogether. He and Alan Rothenberg, a USSF executive committee member and past president, collaborated with officials of IMG, the firm preferred by the federation, to stage their own victory tour and match the money promised by SFX. Team members balked. Hamm, Foudy and co-captain Carla Overbeck went to Washington, D.C., to negotiate with federation officials. Sitting in a conference room at the Washington Court Hotel, a few blocks from Capitol Hill, the combatants became increasingly animated as negotiations turned nasty.

"The federation wanted to control the players, and for the first time it sensed it might not be able to," says John Langel, the players' attorney. "The suggestion was made that if the players went ahead with the [SFX] tour, they might never play for the U.S. again."

Finally, several witnesses say, a federation official attempted a power play, threatening to send a team of 16-year-olds to represent the U.S. in the 2000 Olympics. At that point the sport's demure superstar made a Hamm-fisted show of strength. "Fine, then I'm done," Hamm declared to Langel and her teammates. "I've won two World Cups and an Olympic gold medal, and if I retire tomorrow I'll be quite comfortable with what I've accomplished." Then, turning to glare at Contiguglia, Hamm added this kicker: "You call Nike and tell them I'm through."

Hamm was upset, she says, "because we'd overcome so many barriers for so long, with a grace and professionalism that not a lot of teams would've shown. We were talking about everything we'd ever worked for, and I felt 14 years of my life were being questioned. This was a battle not only for us but for players who were 11 and 12 years old -- a battle to make sure a precedent was set and a commitment to women's soccer be made. That was far more important than ensuring that certain people at U.S. Soccer liked me."

When the meeting broke up a few minutes later, Foudy and Overbeck embraced their teammate vigorously. They understood that Hamm, by setting herself apart, was being the ultimate team player. But the debate was not over. The USSF then threatened to file a lawsuit in federal court in Chicago to halt the Victory Tour. The legal showdown was averted when representatives of SFX and IMG crafted a settlementto allow SFX to organize the two-month tour, which began in October 1999. But relations between the players and the federation deteriorated over the next few months.

Money was another issue. The women's contract with the USSF, which expired after the '99 Cup, gave each player $45,000 for winning the tournament -- roughly one tenth what a player on the U.S. men's team would have received for winning a World Cup.

It was time to make a stand for economic parity, team members concluded. They gained further resolve after talking with tennis great Billie Jean King and others who had played a role in advancing the interests of women athletes. "We had a lot of powerful women behind us," Overbeck says. "Billie Jean King took us through the fight she'd had with women's tennis (over players' economic independence) and reinforced that we were fighting for more than ourselves."

In January 2000 the national team regulars boycotted the Australia Cup tournament. Instead the federation sent a team of college-age players, which won the tournament, but a telephone campaign by every member of the national team persuaded the fill-ins to honor the boycott for all future competitions. Several weeks later the USSF relented and agreed to a five-year deal that gave the women significant concessions, including a commitment to the development of future players and de facto economic equality with the men's national team.

There was one more battle looming. In mid-February last year the women announced plans for the eight-team WUSA, with backing from John Hendricks, founder of the Discovery Channel, and several cable companies (including, Sports Llustrated For Women's parent company, AOL Time Warner). Two months later Major League Soccer, the men's professional league, made public its plans for a rival women's venture. Before the federation could resolve the matter the 20 veterans of the '99 Cup team announced they would play only for the league conceived by Hendricks. Soon after, MLS backed down, and the women won yet another power struggle. The rest, they hope, is history.

In overcoming these obstacles, the players have avoided the pitfalls which have become sports-world clichés -- selfishness, shortsightedness, internal feuds driven by money or ego. "All the players on this team have been willing to put aside their personal agendas to fight for a larger cause," says Hamm.

Now all they have to do is make a fledgling league succeed in a saturated sports market. They are all in it together. Even founding player Michelle Akers, who is coming off shoulder surgery and may never play in the WUSA, will receive both her cut of the players' WUSA interest and her entire 2001 salary. They're partners (the 20 founding players eschewed larger paychecks for a percentage of profits in the league, a first in American sports) and close friends, but paradoxically, they've been broken up for the sake of competition. None of the WUSA's eight teams has more than three founding players, and the first month of play has led to some awkward moments. On April 21, Boston Breakers forward Kristine Lilly, a longtime national team star, got called for a yellow card after a hard tackle on Carolina Courage defender Overbeck. Instead of glaring or spewing expletives, the close friends and former University of North Carolina teammates got up off the grass and laughed in unison.

Chastain of the CyberRays and Hamm of the Freedom goofed on one another before the opener at RFK, after the neophyte captains bungled the traditional exchange of team pennants. "Neither of us knew the formality, and Mia didn't even bring her pennant out," Chastain says. "We laughed and said, 'We're such losers.'" The Freedom won the game, 1-0, on a penalty kick -- after Chastain got tangled up with Hamm near the goal. Even so, Chastain says, "That game will go down as the best day of my life. It's so meaningful when you build something from the ground up and sacrifice everything to get it."

The games will fade over time, but the bonds will endure. "We'll be great friends until the day we die," says Hamm. "We've shared and experienced so much together. And we've grown, too. Things have improved with the federation, and I think we've put the past behind us."

Even onetime adversary Rothenberg is struck by these women and their airtight covenant. "They are a unique group," he says. "Some of the things they've done in setting up this league, leaving money on the table with no guarantee of future profit, is unheard of in this day and age. When you look at what big-time sports is today, they're really a shining light."

Two years after the team thrilled a rapt nation, the afterglow persists.

For more features -- including the lowdown on power yoga and our review of the top athletic shoes -- check out Sports Illustrated For Women magazine, on newsstands now.

 

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