Welcome back, Cosmos

If I told you I’m as excited about watching the Cosmos soccer team on March 14, 2026, as I was when I saw them on TV on June 15, 1975, I’d be fibbing.

For one thing, I was 14 years old in the summer of ’75, so I was pretty easily excited. Things like seeing Angie Dickinson take down the bad guys while wearing a halter top in Policewoman or listening to Physical Graffiti on my headphones got my motor running back then.

Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Bluesky @scottadamson1960.bsky.social

And when I witnessed Pelé ascend the steps of Downing Stadium to make his debut as a member of New York’s North American Soccer League club, it was magical. Finally, the international sport I loved was getting the ultimate publicity blitz in the country where I lived.

More than half a century later – having been there, done that and gotten the Medicare card – it takes quite a lot to push my exhilaration button.

But …

I’ve been looking forward to this day ever since the Cosmos rose from the association football grave. And when they line up against Portland Hearts of Pine this afternoon in Paterson, New Jersey, in a USL League One contest at Hinchliffe Stadium, I’ll have a feeling of both nostalgia and comfort.

Nostalgia because the Cosmos were the first soccer club I ever cheered for, and comfort because soccer has long been figurative comfort food for me.

With everything awful and the world on fire, 22 people fighting over a round ball gives me 90 minutes of peace. And though there’s a lot of distance and difference between the original Cosmos and the ones competing today (an Edson Arantes do Nascimento equivalent ain’t gonna be on the pitch), the name and the badge still resonate with me.

Back in the glory days, I sought out every bit of information I could find on the Cosmos. Living in Birmingham, Alabama, that meant just an occasional blurb in the back of the local sport pages. But soon I discovered the Soccer America and World Soccer publications, which kept me as in the loop as a Southern kid could hope to be when it came to association football.

I faithfully supported the original Cosmos, celebrating their NASL crowns like they had won them just for me. And even after “O Rei” retired, fans abandoned the league and the NASL ultimately imploded, whenever a side bearing their name resurfaced – be it in the second North American Soccer League or National Independent Soccer Association – I claimed them as “mine.”

And so, it begins anew in a low-key way.

Personally, I like the fact that they’re starting out at the Division III level. If the USL ultimately implements promotion/relegation as it plans to do, the Cosmos can earn their way to the top tier through sporting merit. That’s as it should be.

Plus, I’m over billionaires and their toys, so Paterson native Baye Adofo-Wilson’s majority ownership of the club – and focus on grassroots efforts and community engagement – is refreshing.

And as a guy who loves historic stadiums and reveres the Negro Leagues, the fact that the Cosmos play at hallowed grounds once roamed by the New York Black Yankees, New York Cubans and Newark Eagles makes me smile.

Will I ever get up to Hinchliffe to see them play in in person?

Probably not.

Then again, I was never in the stands at the Meadowlands to see the OG Cosmos play, but that didn’t make me any less of a supporter.

That being the case, today I’m rocking my well-worn white Cosmos T-shirt and bright green Cosmos dad cap (from the NASL 2 era). Instead of hero-worshipping guys like Pelé, Giorgio Chinaglia and Franz Beckenbauer, I’ll be cheering on the likes of Sebastián Guenzatti, Tristan Stephani and Christian Koffi.

It might not generate Angie Dickinson-level excitement, but it’s still a pretty big deal for this Boomer in Bama.

So, welcome back, Cosmos … I hope you decide to stick around this time.

Communication breakdown

The bright silver alien patrol vehicle moved quietly through the street, occasionally emitting a red-yellow glow that prompted people to go inside their homes in observance of curfew.

For anyone under the age of 40, it was simply a way of life – they had never known a world that wasn’t ruled by the Sagittarians. Nations, governments and cultures had long since come under control of the humanoid beings, who arrived on Earth in the summer of 2043.

Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Bluesky @scottadamson1960.bsky.social

Sarah Nevins peered out the window as the patrol passed by, shaking her head.

“It’s been a lifetime ago, now, but it’s still hard to believe,” she said.

Her husband, Bart, looked up from his information cube.

“What’s that, hon?”

“I was just thinking back to before, when humans dominated the earth. Then just like that, because of our stupidity, it was over.”

On a late June night four decades before, a huge spacecraft had appeared above the Whittier Hills Memorial Park and Mortuary in California. For two days it hovered, releasing various sounds and color displays. Scientists could not determine what the chirps and whistles were meant to convey, but the series of radiant flashes seemingly corresponded with the American alphabet.

It was determined that the messages were “F-O-R-M-A” “M-E-T-H-A” and “G-L-U-T,” but what exactly any of those letters meant was unknown at the time.

However, the codes suddenly disappeared and the spacecraft went silent as it dropped to the ground below.

“Remember when we watched it on TV?” Sarah mused. “I never once thought it was an invasion or that they were gearing up for an attack. Admittedly, I didn’t know what to think, but that didn’t enter my mind.”

Bart nodded.

“Me, either. I wondered why they hadn’t landed in Washington or London or Moscow … you know, one of those, ‘Take me to your leader’ type places. A cemetery just seemed random … and odd.”

It didn’t seem random to the myriad conspiracy theorists who quickly decided the extraterrestrials were ghouls. And matters weren’t helped by the fact that President Chad Odiosa – a controversial former podcaster and verbal grenade lobber – was more than happy to spread panic to an already worried nation.

In a speech televised across the world on Day Three of the craft’s arrival, Odiosa claimed that the aliens had come to earth to reanimate the dead and create an army of zombies, stoking rage among those fueled by it. In years past such claims would’ve been deemed ridiculous, but ridiculousness had been normalized ever since the millennium had reached its teens. Once the fuse was lit, thousands of Odiosa’s well-armed followers converged on California. They were joined by military personnel, pushed into action by the commander in chief.

“That ignorant asshole,” Sarah spat. “I’ll never forget his rallying cry … ‘They might have come from the heavens, but we’ll send ‘em straight to hell.’ All the tiny brains loved it. Still makes me sick just to think about it.”

There was no way for humans and the Sagittarians to verbally communicate early on, which is why the aliens were attempting to do so with light and sound. But once the craft crashed, their only choice was to emerge in hopes of finding a way to explain their presence face to face.

“God, that was horrible,” Bart said. “Once the door opened and they came down the ramp, it was a massacre. The missiles didn’t do a lot of damage to the craft, but those poor Sagittarians were wiped out. That one guy little in front just held out his arms and  … boom. I still have nightmares about it sometimes.”

Odiosa was quick to make a victory speech, and brazenly dared Sagittarians to return to earth if they “wanted more of the same.”

Odiosa got his wish in short order.

Before their ship lost power, a distress signal had been sent. But once the Sagittarian rescue vessel intercepted human communications – and determined an act of war had taken place – it turned back.

Within days, the skies over Earth were littered with a Sagittarian armada. After a week, they had wiped out every organized military in the world, and tens of millions of humans died in the process.

Then – just a few months after the takeover – the Sagittarians adapted to human language.

“That bastard Odiosa went into hiding, but if he survived, I wonder what went through his mind when he learned what the Sagittarians wanted that first day,” Sarah said wistfully. “’Forma,’ ‘Metha,’ ‘Glut’ – formaldehyde, methanol, glutaraldehyde. That’s why they were hovering over a cemetery … the ingredients to embalming fluid could’ve refueled their ship. If we had shown just the bare minimum of  patience, we could’ve helped them and they’d have been on their way. Hell, we might’ve even become our friends.

“Instead, we declared war on them and became their subjects … simply because they stopped for gas.”

Some trivia, just for kicks

As a former kicker (yeah, yeah … it was YMCA ball in 8th grade, but still), field goals always pique my interest. And you might be interested to know it’s been almost 19 years since a pro football kicker has connected on a 4-point field goal.

If you’re an alt-football junkie, you already know by now that the United Football League released a new rules package for the 2026 season – one that includes a 4-point field goal. Yet, as creative as it is, it’s not unprecedented in tackle football.

Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Bluesky @scottadamson1960.bsky.social

The World League of American Football introduced the 4-pointer in 1995 as part of its all-European reboot.

The WLAF played two spring-summer seasons, 1991 and 1992, with 10 franchises, including seven in North America. The circuit – owned and operated by the National Football League – featured standard NFL rules for the most part. But after the WLAF flopped in U.S. markets, it went on hiatus for two years.

When it returned, the NFL decided to use it as a proving ground for rule innovations and the 4-point field goal was arguably it’s boldest experiment.

“We think the four-point play is an exciting rules change which is in keeping with the innovative style of the World League,” WLAF vice president of football operations Jerry Vanisi said.

Of course, while the UFL rule mandates that a field goal is worth four points from 60 yards or more, WLAF kickers needed only to split the pipes and clear the crossbar from 50 or better. (There weren’t nearly as many Cam Littles and Brandon Aubreys 30-plus years ago).

London’s Don Silvestri connected on the first successful 4-point field goal in WLAF history on May 7, 1995. He nailed a 52-yarder against the Scottish Claymores to open scoring in an 11-10 victory for the Monarchs.

The rule remained in place over the years as the WLAF morphed into NFL Europe and, finally, NFL Europa.

The last 4-pointer came in week 10 of the fifteenth and final season of the NFL-sponsored spring league. Rhys Lloyd of the Frankfurt Galaxy closed out scoring with a 50-yard field goal in a 31-14 victory over the Cologne Centurions on June 16, 2007.

Certainly, 4-point field goals will be divisive to old-schoolers, but what if you made kicks worth one, two or three points based on distance?

The World Football League did just that during the preseason of its ill-fated 1975 campaign.

Billy DeCarlis, chairman of the WFL rules committee, proposed that field goals inside the 10-yard line would count one point, tally two points from the 10 to the 30, and three points from 31 yards out or further.

The league was keen on deemphasizing scoring via the kick; touchdowns counted seven points and the PAT was eliminated in favor of an “action point” that required a run or pass for a single-point conversion.

“If a team were trailing by two points, it would have to use strategy, maybe even take a loss, to get the ball in position for a three point try,” DeCarlis told The Birmingham News in a May, 1975, article. “It would be a multiple choice type decision. Try to take it into the end zone, stay outside the zone, or kick immediately. It could eliminate running the clock down to get a chip shot field goal at the end.”

I had an in-person brush with this bit of history on July 12, 1975, when I watched the Birmingham Vulcans defeat the Portland Thunder, 25-9, in an exhibition contest at Legion Field.

Birmingham’s Ron Slovensky booted a 35-yard field goal late in the fourth quarter – good for two points.

However, if a rules committee ever wants to really mess with field goals (and the minds of football fans), they could try the WFL experiment in reverse. The job of the offense is to gain yards against the defense and move the ball toward the goal line, right?

So, to reward progressing down the field, a field goal inside the 10 would be worth three points, between the 11 and 30, two points, and anything beyond that, a single point.

I’ll show myself out …