A basketball legend and the ASL

The original North American Soccer League will always hold a special place in my heart.

Scott Adamson’s soccer column appears whenever he feels soccerish. Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl and Instagram @adamsons60

Despite its overspending, overreach and ultimate self-destruction, it broadened my football world and allowed me to become fully immersed in the Beautiful Game.

But as much as I loved the NASL, I also admired the American Soccer League – as much as I could. It was rare to find anything more than league standings in my local paper, so I usually had to wait on the annual release of the “Complete Handbook of Soccer” to get ASL info.

Although completely overshadowed by the league that featured Pele, George Best and Johan Cruyff, it had been around since 1933. Its longevity was impressive, despite spending much of its existence as a low budget, Northeast-based circuit. (Its headquarters were based in Providence, Rhode Island).

So when former NBA great Bob Cousy was named ASL commissioner on December 19, 1974, I was hopeful. Sure, Cousy was a basketball legend with no ties to association football, but almost everyone knew his name. And the American Soccer League desperately needed some name recognition.

“It’s the first opportunity that has come along that allows me to stay in sports and retain my home in New England,” Cousy, who continued to work as a TV color commentator for basketball and consultant for various companies, told United Press International. “It’s great to be working with people who are dedicated to their work. And lastly, I guess I need fulltime employment.

“It’s a sport I know nothing about but I’m willing to learn.”
When Cousy took the reins of the ASL, it featured the Boston Astros, Connecticut Wildcats, Delaware Wings, New Jersey Brewers and New York Apollo in the East Conference while the Cleveland Cobras, Cincinnati Comets, Indiana Tigers and Rhode Island Oceaneers made up the Midwest Conference.

“I’m no stranger to public relations work,” Cousy said. “I’ve kissed my share of babies, marched in parades and flown helicopters to push pro basketball. The ASL wanted publicity, and that’s why they came to me.”

While the NASL was stocked with international stars (mostly in the twilight of their careers), Cousy advocated a more homegrown approach.

“We’ve got to start thinking of our American colleges as our farm system,” he told UPI in a 1975 interview.

But the ASL also needed to widen its footprint if it wanted to become a legitimate national league. Cousy was tasked with figuring out how to make that happen in a financially responsible way.

“Realistically, no one is making dollars in soccer at this time – the big guys or the little guys,” he said. “For instance, our franchises sell for $35,000. (NASL franchises) go for $350,000. Pele has helped our cause even though he’s with the other league. He’s generated some fringe benefits for us.

“Since Pele’s arrival people have been coming to us and discussing franchises. Before, I was chasing them around.”

In 1975 the ASL was still regional, although the Chicago Cats, Cleveland Cobras and Pittsburgh Miners added three major markets.

But 1976 saw expansion to the West Coast, with the Los Angeles Skyhawks, Oakland Buccaneers, Sacramento Spirits, Tacoma Tides and Utah Golden Spikers (replaced during the season with the Utah Pioneers) joining.

“They (the NASL) look better right now,” Cousy told Associated Press in a May, 1976, interview, “but our approach is more sensible. With our numbers, we can draw 3,000 or 4,000 a game and stay in business and stay in the black. Our grocery store is smaller than their supermarket.”

Indeed it was. But the “Mom and Pop” league struggled against the big box NASL. Franchises came and went, and with rare exceptions attendance was terrible. In 1979 Cousy resigned his post with the ASL, and at least one league official was happy for the change.

“The commissioner doesn’t have to be a soccer man,” Pennsylvania Stoners president and coach Willie Ehrlich told the New York Times. “But once he’s bitten by the bug, he’s got to show it. After five years as commissioner, Cousy still goes around telling people he knows nothing about soccer.”

With or without Cousy, there was no happily ever after for the ASL. It folded in 1983 and while five franchises survived to form the original United Soccer League, that venture played only one full season in 1984. In fact, America’s pro soccer bubble burst completely that year as the NASL also went cleats-up.

Still, the American Soccer League competed over six different decades and is deeply rooted in United States soccer history.

It never really grabbed the spotlight, but give it credit for trying to step out of the shadows.

The Miracle puck

A version of this column first appeared in November, 2018. I’m reposting it today to commemorate the 40th anniversary of the “Miracle On Ice.”

Like a lot of guys, I have a “fan cave” at my house.

Scott Adamson’s sports column appears whenever he feels sporty. Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl and Instagram @adamsons60

Walk into the tiny converted attic room and you’ll find memorabilia from the World Football League, the World Hockey Association, United States Football League, XFL – to me they are remnants of days gone by as well as good old days.

One of my most prized possessions is a hockey puck commemorating the 1980 United States Olympic Hockey Team’s game against the Birmingham Bulls of the Central Hockey League.

The “Miracle On Ice” took place on February 22, 1980, and if you’re an American hockey fan old enough to remember it, you most certainly do.

I saw that team on Nov. 8, 1979, when they visited Birmingham, Ala., to play the local minor league club in an exhibition at the Birmingham-Jefferson Civic Center Coliseum.

Birmingham, which was not part of the WHA’s limited merger with the NHL a year earlier, had resurfaced in the CHL, keeping the “Bulls” nickname but seeing its level of play take a dip. But a Triple A-type league offered just the kind of tune-ups the young U.S. squad needed.

Each team in the CHL played the Olympians that season, with the games actually counting in the league standings.

Birmingham lost to Brooks’ charges, 5-2, in Minneapolis on Nov. 4, and four days later they faced off again in the Magic City. The crowd was announced at 3,696, and pucks were handed out to those in attendance as a way to celebrate and commemorate the occasion.

A little over three months later that puck would be like gold to me when the Olympians became sports icons.

You know the story.

When the Winter Games came to Lake Placid, N.Y., little was expected out of the U.S. in hockey, especially since its roster was made up of a bunch of kids. The medals would likely be divided up among powerhouse teams fielded by the Soviet Union, Finland and Canada, and the prospects of the Americans advancing beyond pool play seemed absurd.

Just days before the Games began, the U.S. was hammered by the Russians, 10-3, at Madison Square Garden. Yet when it was medal time in New York State, goalie Jim Craig turned away 36 shots by “The Red Army” to help the hosts shock the greatest hockey team in the world, 4-3.

For many it was a political victory as well as a sporting one because of the Cold War. I was acutely aware of the “more than a game” overtones, but frankly I was just thrilled to see guys my age pull off a feat that seemed impossible.

Phil Verchota scored three times in the Games and added two assists, while Rob McClanahan had five goals and three assists in seven matches. I bring their names up because they were the stars of the United States’ 6-4 victory over the Bulls.

Often lost in the euphoria of the victory over the Soviets is the Gold Medal match against Finland, which took place on Feb. 24, 1980.

Heading into the final period the United States trailed 2-1. But the Americans scored three unanswered goals in the third period in a too-good-to-be-true finish, claiming a 4-2 conquest and putting the final touches on one of the most unlikely sports stories ever written.

I sure am glad I decided to keep that old puck.

Pro baseball’s senior moment

Since I’m a “man of a certain age,” I find myself cheering for athletes who continue to excel beyond their perceived expiration dates.

Scott Adamson’s sports column appears whenever he feels sporty. Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl and Instagram @adamsons60

As a New York Jets fan I’m morally obligated to despise the New England Patriots, but I can’t help but admire 43 year-old Tom Brady.

Japanese soccer player Kazuyoshi Miura is 52, Atlanta Hawks guard Vince Carter is 43, Boston Bruins captain Zdeno Chara is 42 … professional sports is considered a younger person’s game but occasionally experience – and skill – eclipse trips around the sun.

Perhaps the sport that does the best job of keeping older guys in the game is golf. The Champions Tour has helped some 50-plus players make more money than they ever did on the PGA Tour.

But my favorite over-the-hill competition was the Senior Professional Baseball Association, which unfortunately had an extremely short shelf life.

Formed on May 31, 1989, it was designed to give big name stars age 35 and over a chance to keep on shining.

“This will be competitive baseball with a touch of entertainment,” SPBA founder Jim Morley told the Gannett News Service during the league’s introductory news conference.

Teams would be placed at existing spring training sites in Florida, with plans to expand to Arizona and California in the future.

The Northern Division featured the Bradenton Explorers, Orlando Juice, St. Petersburg Pelicans and Winter Haven Super Sox while the Gold Coast Suns, Fort Myers Sun Sox, St. Lucie Legends and West Palm Beach Tropics comprised the Southern Division.

The season started on Nov. 1 and consisted of 72 games with tickets running in the $5 range.

“(Fans) are going to pay $5 to see some of their idols play,” All-Star third baseman Graig Nettles said.

And there were idols aplenty, from players such as Fergie Jenkins, Rollie Fingers and Dave Kingman to managers Earl Weaver and Dick Williams. Curt Flood served as commissioner.

Considering modest fan support was all that was needed to stay afloat, the SPBA seemed like something that could become an offseason baseball staple.

“The people in Florida have a dollar to spend, and they don’t want to see Goofy all the time,” Pitcher Bill “Spaceman” Lee told Gannett.

I was excited about it but – since I didn’t live in Florida – never made it to a game and couldn’t watch it because the league’s modest TV contract didn’t extend much beyond SPBA cities.

Still, I looked forward to any highlights that occasionally popped up on ESPN and combed the newspapers for box scores every day.

For fans in the stands, however, the novelty quickly wore off.

While attendance was solid in the very early stages, it plummeted as the season wore on. By the time the Pelicans defeated the Tropics 12-4 in the one-off championship game, the SPBA was already on shaky ground.

All things considered the quality was decent – day-to-day players like Ron Washington and Mickey Rivers had a few innings left in them, and Milt Wilcox, Joaquin Andujar and Pete Falcone showed they could still throw strikes even if their heat wasn’t quite as hot.

Yet Florida-based baseball fans obviously preferred spring training ball to what they seniors were giving them.

When the SPBA regrouped for year two, only four of its original franchises remained and the league lineup fell from eight to six teams.

The circuit did, in fact, add franchises in Arizona (Phoenix) and California (San Bernardino), but after just a couple of months of play the wheels fell off.

Ownership and investor disagreements within with the Fort Myers team in December, 1990, forced the cancellation of that club’s remaining games, and the five other teams then voted to cancel the rest of season.

“Most of the time in this situation the reason is financial,” Morley told the Associated Press. “This isn’t financial. Fort Myers is far and away the wealthiest franchise. They have an internal partnership problem.”

The last day of the SPBA was officially December 26. Morley vowed that a new an improved version of the league would return in 1991, but it never happened.

Big league senior baseball was dead.

The window for a league like this was a small one, and I’m guessing it’s closed forever. With colleges starting in February and the World Series cutting into November, baseball is already practically a year-round sport anyway. I can’t imagine a real appetite for senior pro baseball.

If one ever pops up again, though, it’ll have my support.

As the late, great Satchel Paige is credited with saying, “Age is a question of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it don’t matter.”