June 2022 - Page 2 of 4 - Adamsonmedia.com

Airborne at home in Mobile

If you just shook me from a Rip Van Winkle slumber and told me the Alabama Airborne was the newest franchise in Major League Football, I’d assume that franchise would be placed in Birmingham.

It would be a solid guess.

**Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl**

When MLFB was in its infancy back in 2014, “Alabama Airborne” had been trademarked by the league and officials had already stated that the Magic City was being eyed for a team.

But since MLFB originally announced its intentions we’ve had the Alliance of American Football, XFL 2.0, a minor league version of the United States Football League and – coming soon – XFL 3.0.

And considering the USFL has a team in Birmingham and the made-for-TV league looks like it’ll return for a second season, there is no room for an MLFB club in the town that has also been home to the World Football League, original USFL, World League of American Football, Canadian Football League, original XFL and AAF.

But there is room in Mobile, Alabama, where the Airborne – playing at Ladd-Peebles Stadium – hopes to take flight in a 2022 season that is scheduled to begin on August 9.

“Today I am delighted to announce Mobile as MLFB’s fourth host city,” MLFB CEO Frank Murtha said in a news release. “Mobile joins Canton (Ohio Force), Little Rock (Arkansas Attack), and Virginia Beach (Virginia Armada) as our “Core Four.” These four unbelievably supportive markets provide not only a tremendous base for this season but also a solid foundation for spring 2023 when we begin our quest to become America’s home for professional spring football.”

“While each community is unique, Mobile, Little Rock, Canton, and Virginia Beach all had what we felt were the essential ingredients for success – a tradition of supporting football, strong demographics, and suitable facilities. With the addition of Mobile to our league lineup, we genuinely believe we have found a “core” and are positioned for growth this season and beyond.”

While Birmingham certainly leads the state in the number of alternative football leagues it has been involved with, the Port City has been part of the outdoor pro gridiron party before, too.

The Mobile Tarpons played in the North American Football League in 1965 and 1966, with the Tarpons finishing as league runners-up in 1965.

The city’s most recent “major” minor league football team was the Mobile Admirals, who claimed the one and only Regional Football League championship in 1999.

Twenty-three years later, Alabama’s fourth most populous city is back in the football business.

Jerry Glanville is the biggest name in the league and will serve as Airborne head coach, with his staff consisting of Daniel Kuhn (assistant to the head coach); Jeff Reinebold (quarterback and wide receivers); Kris Cinkovich (offensive line); Robert Lyles (defensive line and linebackers); Kim McCloud (defensive backs); and Jesse Thompson (special teams).

Glanville was the first coach announced by the league back in March.

“Every MLFB player was an outstanding college player,” Glanville said after he was hired. “Our goal is to help them grow into a professional player and improve their skills and play, increasing their opportunities to join the NFL.

“Watching them grow and improve is the joy of teaching and coaching.”

Murtha said the 80-year-old Glanville was the perfect choice to help get the league up and running.

“We needed to find a coach that has the experience not only in football, but in league development,” Murtha said. “Jerry Glanville fills that criteria perfectly. Not only does he know football and coaching as well as anyone on the planet, but he has also been involved in the early life of start-up leagues.

“Having coached at all levels of football including the NFL, Coach Glanville brings a wealth of knowledge to MLFB.”

On Friday morning, Mobile was also tapped as the host city for MLFB training camp, which begins July 18.

“MLFB’s core mission is to provide personal and professional growth opportunities for football players, coaches, trainers, and front office personnel,” MLFB senior vice president of football operations Mike McCarthy said in a statement. “Today’s announcement of Mobile as MLFB’s initial training camp shows our determination to deliver on this. With a centralized training camp, savings are realized on travel costs, camp operations, administrative overhead, and more. Another advantage is that all four head coaches can perform player evaluations simultaneously, resulting in fewer talented players slipping through the cracks.”

Two facilities will be used, with Alabama and Ohio sharing one and Arkansas and Virginia the other.

Share of the spoils

I love soccer. Its unique combination of simplicity, beauty and technique make it my favorite sport, and I’ve been mesmerized by the game ever since I discovered it in 1970.

But man, I hate to see a soccer match end in penalty kicks.

After 11-player sides have spent 90 minutes – plus injury time and then overtime – battling to a standstill, the outcome is determined by one-on-one competition. And when it comes down to a kicker versus a keeper, guesswork plays a major role.

On the other hand, if you look at how the 1975 American Soccer League championship series played out, then maybe PKs don’t seem so bad after all.

In case you never knew or can’t remember, the 1975 season ended with the New York Apollo and Boston Astros declared ASL co-champions. Seems these two clubs just couldn’t figure out which one was best, as evidenced by the fact they played to a pair of 2-2 draws during the regular season and tied each other 2-2 in the first leg of the championship series. (New York finished the regular season with an 11-6-3 record and atop the Eastern Division, while Boston was best in the Northern Division at 9-8-3. And, despite the club’s success, New York coach Nick Kambolis was fired a week before the postseason started and replaced by general manager Nick Sclavounos).

The first playoff game between the two was held in Worcester, Massachusetts, on September 17, with the Apollo going up 2-0 on goals from Mike Patarigas and Mario Garcia. The Astros rallied, however, thanks to an Itmas Alves penalty kick in the 80^th minute and Carlos George’s goal just three minutes later.

That meant they’d meet one more time – this time in Mount Vernon, New York, on September 20 – with the victor claiming the ASL crown.

Jose Neto gave Boston the lead in the 15^th minute with an 18-yard blast, but New York equalized 10 minutes before halftime thanks to a header courtesy of Dave Power.

That ended all scoring in regulation, which set up sudden death overtime. The ASL’s O.T. format consisted of seven and a half minute periods, with the first goal ending the match.

Incredibly, the clubs played through nine overtimes without breaking the stalemate. New York outshot Boston 32-9, and Astros keeper Emilio Costa had 25 saves.

So why not keep playing until there was a winner?

Well, after the ninth O.T. it was 12:30 a.m. on Sunday, which was an hour past the Mount Vernon city curfew. The bigger problem, though, was that New York player contracts had actually expired on Saturday night.

Had the teams agreed to a replay later on Sunday (or any other date), the Apollo might not have had enough players on their roster.

Thus, American Soccer League commissioner Bob Cousy (yes, that Bob Cousy) decided to give each team a piece of the crown.

“There will be league co-champions,” Cousy told the Herald Statesman of Yonkers. “You don’t have to be a soccer expert to see that both teams deserve a share of the title. I don’t care what the precedent is for something like this.”

Boston coach John Bertos wasn’t happy about sharing the spoils, nor was Sclavounos.

“In my heart, no, I am not satisfied,” Sclavounos said. “But this is the way it has to be.”

It was a dysfunctional ending to a dysfunctional ASL season, one that saw the older league relegated to minor league status due to the growth of the rival North American Soccer League. The American league was bleeding money, and less than 3,000 supporters showed up for the championship match.

Still, you have to admire the stamina and character of all the players who put in 157 minutes and 30 seconds of work just to finish where they started – all even.

I’m guessing had penalty kicks been an option then, they would’ve gotten a rousing endorsement from the Apollo and the Astros.

And maybe even the spectators who hung around for the finish.

Summer sucks

When I was a kid, summer was absolutely glorious.

Once the dismissal bell rang on the last day of school, it was as though the sun had personally invited me to a three-month party – a party that included lots of swimming, a little bat-and-ball action, and creek adventures that started right after breakfast and ended just before dusk.

If I lean back now and close my eyes, I can almost smell the freshly cut grass. I can also smell the tanning lotion covering the beautiful neighbor while she lounged by the pool. And before you think I was a little creep, no, I didn’t stare at her while hiding behind a bush next to the chain-link fence that separated our property.

And even if I did, you can’t prove it.

But those sometimes crazy and oftentimes lazy days of childhood summers are long past, and have since been replaced by the oppressive, unbearable heat and humidity of this dreadful time of year.

Mary has much more tolerance for the heat than I do, and when I complain about it she’ll say, “It’s Alabama in June. What do you expect?”

She’s right. While climate change has certainly made things much worse, it’s not like it wasn’t hot during the summers of my youth. It was … I guess I was just too distracted by fun and frivolity to care.

In the era before video games, kids like me spent most of our days outside if it wasn’t raining. That’s where all the entertainment was found.

You’d play ball, swim, then just run around doing generic kid things until it was time for lunch. After you ate, you’d rinse and repeat until dinner. After dinner, well, the drill was the same.

I’m sure I got hot and I’m sure I sweated, but I don’t recall ever complaining about it.

But boy, do I complain about it now.

Even when I start a 5 a.m. walk, the heat slaps me in the face the minute I open the door. Most mornings the air is completely still, and after I’ve gone a mile, I’m already drenched in sweat.

And if there is a breeze it not only doesn’t help, it often makes things worse. It feels like how I imagine it would feel if a fire-breathing dragon burped on me.

I mean, summer breezes might have made Jim Seals and Dash Crofts feel fine, but that’s probably because they both had low metabolic rates.

By the time my daily summertime walking is complete, I’m utterly exhausted, ornery, smelly and look like I just emerged from a swamp. And when the sun rises and goes into full bake mode (thus triggering all dumpsters within a five-mile radius to activate their repulsive odors), I dread having to venture back out in it.

With two dogs that require multiple outdoor business trips I can’t avoid it, but I try to take them someplace where there’s shade for them and me. And to encourage a quick evacuation process, I’ll often sing soft, soothing tunes that are proven to promote regularity. (I’ve found that Escape: The Piña Colada Song triggers copious poopage).

The only positive to the hellish heat is walking back inside, where I’m treated to central air conditioning, whirring ceiling fans and even a box fan when I feel like running up the score.

“But, Scott,” you ask. “Surely you like going to the beach … enjoying the sand, surf and ocean breeze?”

Yeah, about that …

There was a time in my late teens and early 20s when beach trips were at the top of my list, mainly because of the nightlife. But again, those days are over.

I like looking at the ocean, but I like doing it from the comfort of the hotel balcony.

I don’t enjoy being on the beach because sand gets in my crevices, and I don’t like getting in the ocean because of sharks, jellyfish and things that want to hurt and/or eat me.

Looking at things positively, though, every day of summer that passes means we’re a day closer to fall. And even though Deep South falls now have muted colors and last only 30 minutes or so, they’re still a great relief from being trapped in Mother Nature’s oven.

Not to put too fine a point on it, but summer can kiss my ass.