Author: Scott Adamson

What if …

For now at least, that European Super League nonsense is off the table. Ultimately it was halted by thousands of angry supporters who believe world football competitions should be based on sporting merit, not cherry-picked by billionaires with enough expendable income to form their own private club. It didn’t hurt that the Union of European Football Associations (UEFA) threatened to boot teams from their domestic leagues and bar players from World Cup and other tournaments.

The owners of the clubs have been properly shamed, and the Super League is back to being a bad idea instead of a bad reality.

Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl and Instagram @scottscribe60

Still, all this got me thinking …

How would American fans react if the game they’re most passionate about went rogue? Just for fun – knowing it could never happen – let’s say 12 NFL owners decided to break away and form a new American football Super League in the spring.

According to Forbes the most valuable franchises in 2020 were the Dallas Cowboys, New England Patriots, New York Giants, Los Angeles Rams (those four are worth at least $4 billion), San Francisco 49ers, New York Jets, Chicago Bears, Washington Football Team, Philadelphia Eagles, Houston Texans, Denver Broncos, and Las Vegas Raiders. For our purposes, we’ll make them Super League members (although as a Jets fan I realize the word “Super” hasn’t been associated with Gang Green for more than half a century).

The NFL Super League would be divided into three, four team pools: The Giants, Jets, Patriots and Eagles in Pool A, Cowboys, Bears, Football Team and Texans in Pool B, and Rams, 49ers, Broncos and Raiders in Pool C.

Pool play would be round robin (six games per team) with the playoffs contested single-elimination style among the three pool winners and wildcard team.

Using my format, the NFL Super League would span eight weeks in April and May.

Is it ridiculous?

Oh, yeah.

It’d be difficult for a cyborg to make it through a year-round football season, much less a human. And of course the NFL would never allow anything that didn’t involve all 32 of its cash cows.

But that’s not really my point – I’m thinking more about the perception of it all.

The 12 soccer renegades in the Super League (AC Milan, Arsenal, Atletico Madrid, Chelsea, Barcelona, Inter Milan, Juventus, Liverpool, Manchester City, Manchester United, Real Madrid and Tottenham Hotspur) weren’t leaving their domestic leagues either – they were just creating a closed, big-money extravaganza outside of their regular season fixtures and other annual events. That’s what enraged supporters.

This NFL Super League would be (theoretically) doing the same thing. So when news broke about a norm-busting soccer series involving iconic clubs, I wondered how such an earth-shattering decision would be received by pro football fans. I assume that – unlike sports enthusiasts in Europe – Americans would be wildly excited about a gridiron super league, with TV ratings rivaling those of traditional playoffs. Sure, fans of the franchises left out would bitch and moan, but they’d be bitching and moaning while watching. And the reason they’d be watching (me included) is because those of us in the United States are conditioned to accept the franchise model.

According to Market Watch, the NFL is the most profitable sports league on the planet, raking in $13 billion annually. And teams don’t belong to a city or the citizens of a city (Green Bay being the notable exception). You might live in Atlanta and identify with the Falcons, but make no mistake – they belong to Arthur Blank, not you.

NFL owners will do what they want with little regard to the fan base, whether that’s threatening to move to another city unless they get a palatial new stadium or actually using moving vans and doing so in the middle of the night. That’s why, for example, the Baltimore Colts are now the Indianapolis Colts and Oakland Raiders are the Las Vegas Raiders. A team might have a rabid, loyal fan base, but if an owner sees a better deal elsewhere he or she will pursue it. That’s how the world of the NFL turns and it has long since been accepted by those of us who follow tackle football.

It’s not, however, how European association football fans view their clubs because for them there is a real sense of ownership – sometimes literally. The leaders of the potential Super League clubs tried to tear a page from their peers across the pond, but underestimated how deeply ingrained these teams are to the culture and fabric of their cities and citizens. Roots run deep, and traditions span generations.

The beauty of global soccer is that any club – regardless of how far down the pyramid – has a path to reach the summit of the sport. Because results are the most important criteria, the smallest club can win its way to the top tier of soccer, raising the hopes and spirits of its community along the way. It’s a massive party, and everyone’s invited.

In the NFL, however, that’s not the case. We pay money to watch the franchises play, but those franchises are playing for the NFL, not us. It controls the dance and the dancers – and we’re perfectly happy to be wallflowers.

No-frills soccer

When it comes to sports I’m a gimmick guy, so usually when a rule innovation comes along, I’ll be the first to embrace it.

The American Football League introduced the two-point conversion to the pro game, which is one of the reasons (there were many) I liked it better than the NFL.

Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl

The American Basketball Association had the three-point shot and red, white and blue basketballs, so to me it was superior to the NBA.

The World Hockey Association instituted sudden death overtime and (briefly) used blue pucks, thus it got more of my attention than the NHL.

So if I could work my will on soccer, I’d offer up some radical changes, right?

Nope. If anything, I’d make it even less modern because when it comes to the Beautiful Game, I’ve become an old fuddy-duddy. (Only someone old would even use the term “fuddy-duddy,” so you know I’m serious about this).

The subject came up when a friend of mine and I were discussing different ways sports have tweaked their rules over the years. We praised the seven-point touchdowns of the World Football League, spoke glowingly of the pandemic-inspired runner-on-second rule in Major League Baseball extra-inning games, and pledged our complete support for the four-point shot in the BIG3 league.

Knowing that association football is my passion, my buddy asked me how I’d reshape it if I could be its puppet master. Frankly, even I was surprised at how I’ve embraced soccer minimalism over the years.

For starters, I’d do away with penalty kicks to settle draws. To me, PKs should be reserved for fouls that occur during the course of a game and not used to determine the winner of that game. Having a match end in penalty kicks is akin to a field goal contest deciding a football game or a home run derby taking the place of free baseball after nine innings.

So does this mean overtime play should be used to break ties?

No.

And yes.

No if it’s a regular game on the season schedule. Remember what I said about settling draws? In my humble opinion, not all draws should be settled. If clubs play 90 minutes plus injury time and share the same score, then a tie seems to be a fair outcome for both.

The answer, however, is yes if the game is part of a tournament. If draws aren’t an option – say, in a knockout competition that requires advancement following each round – then extra time should be played until one side scores a goal. In 1975 the New York Apollos and Worcester Astros were declared co-champions of the American Soccer League when they played 67 and half minutes of overtime in their title game showdown but couldn’t change a 1-1 scoreline. That, however, is a worst-case scenario. And besides, that wouldn’t be a scenario at all if I ran things because there would be no title game showdown. In most soccer systems outside the United States, a league title is determined by which club has the most points at the end of a season. I think champions should be judged by their entire body of work, and a team that secures the best record through the course of a 30-plus match round-robin grind has earned the hardware.

Plus, there are plenty of cup competitions outside of a league season for those who enjoy win or go home tournaments.

The only playoffs I care to see in soccer are to decide promotion and relegation in an open pyramid, but I doubt I’ll live long enough to ever experience that in America.

So while I’m all for innovation when it comes to virtually every other sport on the planet, the older I get the more I prefer soccer that’s devoid of novelties. It’s a disconnect I can’t explain, especially since I grew up with the original North American Soccer League and once embraced its 35-yard shootout and fringe jerseys rocked by the Caribous of Colorado.

It’s not that I yearn for a return to cleated boots or an eight-panel ball with laces – I’m not that much of a fuddy-duddy. It’s just that for me, the simplicity of soccer is simply perfect.

My gridiron utopia

In my perfect football world, the Canadian Football League would be 10 franchises strong (hello, Atlantic Schooners) and all 10 would be financially sound with full stadiums on any given Thursday, Friday, and Saturday in the summer and fall.

The XFL, under the direction of Dany Garcia and Dwayne Johnson (and with the financial muscle of RedBird Capital), would be an innovative circuit willing to play the long game in terms of finding out which markets spring football works in and which markets it doesn’t, ultimately creating a sustainable second tier league.

Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl

And as for a collaboration between the CFL and XFL, it would involve shared resources (a combined global draft, for example) as well as player loans, which are common in international soccer. The CFL would maintain its traditional rules (three downs, 12 players to a side, etc.) while the XFL would develop its own unique style of competition.

(I’m not including the NFL in this fever dream because it’s a league that occupies its own planet with a separate ecosystem). Of course, my perfect football world doesn’t exist – nor does anyone else’s. And what we’re left with is one league (the CFL) with major financial issues and another (the XFL) that has to figure out the best way to spend the money it has in what will be the brand’s third reboot.

I’m not an insider so I have no idea what’s going to happen, but everyone who’s interested has something to say about it. Many of those who are much closer to the situation than me seem to think a merger is imminent, with a “new” league emerging sometime after the CFL completes its 2021 season.

A hybrid circuit would involve some major compromises of rules considering the significant differences between the American and Canadian games.

If I was a younger fan who wasn’t emotionally invested in the CFL, that’d be kind of exciting. Before the pandemic ended XFL 2.0 in 2020, I was completely on board with its rule innovations and thought the quality of play was solid.

It was a vast improvement over the original XFL (2001) by every standard of measure, and laid out a fine template for how to reimagine the game. Throw in some CFL style wrinkles and you’d have a game different enough from the NFL and American college football to possibly create a brand new fan base.

But as someone who has followed the CFL since the 1970s, the thought of it losing its identity depresses me. Beyond that, a full merger means a combined CFL/XFL would either live together or die together.

This is much different than American expansion in the 1990s. When the Lower 48 experiment failed, the United States franchises simply became footnotes to CFL history (except for the Baltimore Stallions, which moved to Montreal and became the “new” Alouettes) while the remaining Canadian-based clubs went about their merry way.

But a CFL/XFL blended league would be a new organization with an infrastructure all its own. And that means traditional CFL teams might play in it, but they’d be playing in something other than the CFL. I’m the first to admit I tend to see the glass as half empty, but when I do I’m reminded by those bullish on this potential football marriage of how much money RedBird Capital has to spend. The company manages $4.5 billion in assets and is involved with the likes of Liverpool FC, the Boston Red Sox and LeBron James through Fenway Sports Group.

By taking on the XFL and trying to meld that league’s new ideas with Canadian tradition, it aims to create a new business model for football.

On the other hand, The Canadian Press reports that the CFL lost between $60 and $80 million last year when the 2020 season was canceled due to the pandemic. That did tremendous damage to the bottom line and it’s hard to tell how much recovery is possible this year. Earlier today the CFL announced a return to play plan that involves a 14-game regular season beginning on August 5 with the Grey Cup set for December 12 in Hamilton. But commissioner Randy Ambrosie cautions that it all hinges on “the state of COVID-19 across the country” and whether or not a significant number of fans are allowed in stadiums.

Ambrosie adds that all clubs are expected to suffer “substantial financial losses” again in 2021, so one can see how a future merger might be born of necessity.

But again, it’s not something I want to see in my perfect (yet nonexistent) football world.

Look, I don’t doubt the combined business and entertainment acumen of Garcia and Johnson, and obviously RedBird Capital has the seed money to make a new kind of league sprout.

But regardless of how much money you have to invest, you want to know that eventually that investment will pay off. And fans of alternative football might not want to hear it, but the next North American-based professional spring football league to last longer than three seasons will be the first.