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Minor-league madness MLS P-40 developmental team tests limits of hygiene
Posted: Thursday July 06, 2000 06:43 PM
SI's Grant Wahl took a vacation. In his absence, the keyboard has been handed over to special guest columnist Garth Lagerwey, a former Duke University star and the most eloquent backup goalkeeper on the Miami Fusion roster. Wahl's regular Inside U.S. Soccer column returns July 12. I made it. Nine days, four games, five flights, one bus trip, zero days off. In MLS, the standard is a game, then a day off, so I am kind of tired. But before whining like a puppy trying to get outside to shake a leg, I thought I should consider the conditions of other athletes. In baseball, these kinds of trips are common. As a goalkeeper I probably move around about as much as a right fielder. Couple of runs to catch balls in the air, couple of long throws, a fair amount of standing around timing my movements to those of the ball. However, the right fielder only occasionally has to worry about crashing into other players, diving onto the ground or absorbing the impact of the ball. Shrugging off elbows to the face with the easygoing conviviality of Popeye in a bathtub full of spinach is also more specific to my line of work. Soccer players take a little more wear and tear.
I think to explain this trip I will have to break it down Anne Frank style. Day 1Off to a flying start as I check in at the airport, curbside. I surrender my bag to a smiling skycap. I am informed by her boss (Was anyone else aware of a skycap hierarchy? Is this like the Freemasons?) that she can't take my bag because my flight departs in 29 minutes. I felt tempted to ask if my chances for a smooth trip were Gone in 60 Seconds, but I wasn't sure if she would grasp such elaborate, obscure wordplay. So I didn't. I managed to retrieve my belongings after having a dollar extorted from me by the cart-pushing lackey skycap, ostensibly for the pleasure of watching her lift and drop my bag. Inside at the ticket counter, I was informed that despite having a reservation and tickets on three subsequent flights, I had no ticket to get on this particular flight. Long story. With my simple-minded disposition, I had failed to realize that I had been issued a paper ticket. In Montana. Longer story. I arrived in Washington, D.C., not my destination, at 1 a.m., on another airline, having bought a new ticket out of my own pocket and been delayed for seven hours by weather as passive as Jesse Helms in a Senate Foreign Relations Committee hearing on lifting the trade embargo against Cuba. On the bright side, my brother happens to live in D.C., so I got to spend an unexpected night on his couch after surviving a harrowing ride home with the gas gauge teetering on the precipice of emptiness like Kant examining a contemporary American consumerist soul. This was my best day.
Day 2Caught a few hours sleep and a sandwich before taking the field with what I can only hope is the worst developmental team ever fielded by MLS. I hadn't faced 21 shots in a night since my legal inauguration into the world of adult beverage consumption. This being the minors, Hershey is able to score on themselves and actually trail for a brief period before smothering us 3-1. I am issued my travel gear. One T-shirt, one collared shirt, one pair of shorts, one pair of pants -- for nine days. Day 3After being beaten like a rented mule and flying for three days, I am as limber as a wrestler in a figure-four leg lock. We go through a light session on a field as level as the North Atlantic during the Perfect Storm. My polo seems to fit reasonably well, despite its acrid gray hue. Day 4The Indy 500 racetrack is called the Brickyard. The neighborhood where it resides looks as if the architects took all the bricks at hand and mortared them in place at the track so no one could vandalize anymore property. Guess where our hotel is. The field we play on is an odd combination of ankle high grass and ground so dry it is broken open like crevasses in the Antarctic. We don't have any of the requisite ladders to bridge the gaps in our defense and fall 3-1. I am consoled by one of the opposing players who assures me that it was Indianapolis' worst player who got the hat trick. It is a warm night, so I perspire quite a bit in my team sweats on the way back to the hotel. Day 5Our coach ride to Milwaukee snakes right past my house in Chicago, but I don't want to go home anymore than a 17-year-old Third Reich soldier freezing outside Stalingrad. Today's highlight is a stop at a rest area Burger King for team lunch. When we arrive in Milwaukee, the practice field is too far away, but we make the best of things by running and jumping around the hotel pool like water nymphs frolicking for lumberjacks in a wooded pond soiree. We wear our team shorts to the pool, which helps, because the chlorine will surely kill off some of the stuff growing in them after four days. Day 6We go to a bar to watch the European Championship final. We have to leave for team lunch as the game heads into overtime. I heard France won. We lose an abortive effort 1-0. The match is cut short by minor inconveniences like a tornado watch, followed by a tornado warning, interspersed with thunderstorms to please Poseidon. When the field has collected enough standing water to rival the Hoover Dam, we call it quits. I don't have the foresight to wear my team gear into the downpour, so I miss a golden opportunity for better hygiene. Day 7We arrive in Minnesota, land of 10,000 lakes and exponentially more mosquitoes. I am able to check my email for the first time on the trip and discover that my editor would like another installment of this column. I chuckle inwardly and wonder what I could possibly write about. After a two-hour session, we seem to have improved our defensive organization. This is timely, because we play our best opponent tomorrow. My T-shirt is now so rife with sweat stains it looks like something I picked up at a Phish show while wearing kaleidoscopes for glasses. Day 8I hear noises coming from my bag on the way to the match and open it to discover that my shorts have become so stiff they have morphed into Al Gore and are giving a policy speech to my polo -- something about labor conditions and "workers of the world unite!" We perform heroically with only one sub and fall only in the 91st minute 2-1. This is tragic in part because we were promised free beer if we won. A safer bet hasn't been placed since the 1919 Black Sox World Series. Day 9I get home. My joy at this momentous occasion is slightly tempered by the fact that I gave my keys to a friend while I was gone, and my apartment is locked as tightly as a banana store against a cabal of caterwauling chimpanzees. Intense InterviewThis week's is Matt Chulis of the Columbus Crew, qualifying as a near star for almost making the Olympic team. Garth: You wrote an essay to win a minivan from a group supporting Olympic hopefuls. What did you write about? Matt: My old car. It had no A/C. Garth: Are you the youngest man to ever drive a minivan? Matt: Probably, but its got a TV and VCR in the back. Garth: Your roommate wears a little black backpack. Do you sleep with your back to the wall and one eye open? Matt: I have congenital ptosis and no natural eyelid, so I do sleep with one eye open. Garth: The Crew is the only pro sports team in Columbus, Ohio. Are you worshipped as a God? Matt: Depends who you talk too. Garth: Does your team owner, Lamar Hunt, know your name? Matt: No chance. Garth: You date a girl long distance. Are you a serial monogamist? Matt: Yes, I am a wonderful guy. Garth: Do you write her any love poetry? Matt: I actually write songs so I can be in a boy band, the P-4Deez. Garth: The Crew is the only team with cheerleaders. Are they inspiring? Matt: They're great; I never miss a halftime show. Garth: Ever want your girlfriend to be a Crewzer? Matt: Well, she does fit inside a hula-hoop. Words for the GoodThanks for reading the encore edition of the Lager Way. The developmental system could use a few tweaks, but its intentions are good. Hopefully, MLS will be willing to consult the players at some point and get their input to make what could be a great program a bit more tolerable to play in.
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