Kyle Rote Jr.

During my preteen and early teen years, my bedroom displayed plenty of “art.”

There was a Batman figurine, a jointed Spider-Man cutout that hung on the door, a red and white plush football doll I’d won at the Alabama State Fair, and a New York Jets pennant that was the centerpiece of the wall above my bed.

Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl

I never was much for posters, but after falling in love with soccer in the early 1970s, I decided to break that rule and give Pelé and Kyle Rote Jr. the big picture treatment in my room.

Pelé was an obvious choice; his tour de force in the 1970 World Cup ignited my passion for the Beautiful Game, and led to my devotion to the North American Soccer League and longtime support of the New York Cosmos.

Pelé represented the exotic side of the sport. It was played by athletes from distant places like Brazil, Germany and England – athletes who were born in a world where the world’s most popular brand of football was everything.

But Rote? Well, he made me think that I could not only watch soccer, but maybe even play it, too. He didn’t even pick up the game until he was 16, became a star forward at a southern college (Sewanee in Tennessee) and went on to be the No. 1 draft pick of the NASL Dallas Tornado in 1972.

I first “discovered” him in a 1973 edition of Sports Illustrated, which came out just before he was named Rookie of the Year in the league. After that I read everything on him I could, from the yearly editions of The Complete Handbook of Soccer to any issue of Soccer America I got my hands on.

Fifty years later it’s fun to look back on his origin story, which was chronicled by an Associated Press article in 1972. A Dallas native whose first love was tackle football (he is the son of 13-year NFL veteran Kyle Rote), he was a late-comer to soccer.

“A bunch of us on the (Highland Park High School football team) were looking for a way to stay in shape during the summer, so we formed a soccer team and challenged church teams and private schools,” Rote told the news service.

The second-generation football player was highly decorated as a prep quarterback/defensive back, and hoped to parlay that into more gridiron success at Oklahoma State. But a broken leg ended that brand of football for Rote, so he headed to Sewanee to give association football another shot. During his senior year at his new school (now called the University of the South) he had 17 goals and seven assists in a 12-game season.

By the time he graduated, the NASL was still in its early stages. When it held its first college draft, the circuit jumped at the chance to give a homegrown player an opportunity to put his stamp on the league.

“When it was first tried on the professional level, it was handled very poorly,” Rote said of soccer’s earlier attempt at attracting supporters in the United States and Canada. “They tried to sell it like a product on television, without regard to the future. In order to get support for soccer you’ve got to start in the junior high schools and get the parents as well as the kids involved.”

Rote didn’t join Dallas until later in the summer of 1972 and didn’t play that year. But once he suited up in 1973, he made an immediate impact.

When the season was done, he had 10 goals and 10 assists, earning Rookie of the Year accolades while helping the Tornado reach the NASL finals (where they lost to Philadelphia).

“I think my success has lent some credibility to the sport,” Rote told the New York Daily News. “Here’s a kid from an old traditional American football family forsaking football for soccer. People must think one of two things; either I’m crazy, or maybe there’s something to this foreign game, soccer.

“If people ever asked me if I believe in miracles I’d say yes and point to this year. At the beginning of the season the only goal I had in mind was to make the team. Now, here I am being called soccer’s ‘Great American Hope.’”

I was never an accomplished American football athlete (my career ended in eighth grade) and I was, at best, a serviceable soccer player (I can still remember the three goals I scored as a high school junior, though … I’ll be glad to tell you all about them). But knowing Rote could excel at a sport that was still largely alien to many Americans did inspire me – and many others – to suit up.

“There are 35,000 kids playing soccer in Dallas, and now they have someone to identify with,” he said. “They can look at me and say, ‘If he made it, there’s a chance for me.’ That’s what it’s all about.”

He inspired me further with his showing in the old ABC Superstars competition where he competed against other athletes in various events. Any time one of my peers would roll their eyes at soccer and belittle it, I’d point to the fact that Rote’s success in everything from swimming to biking to tennis allowed him to win the event three times (1974, 1976 and 1977).

As for his soccer playing career, he finished with 43 goals and 38 assists, playing with Dallas through 1978 and spending the 1979 campaign with the Houston Hurricane.

Rote was inducted into the National Soccer Hall of Fame in 2010.

I have no idea what happened to my old soccer posters; like many things from my youth, they now exist only in my memories.

But sometimes when I look at my high school letter – or pick up one of the soccer balls displayed in my fan cave – I’ll remember Kyle Rote Jr.’s influence.

I’ll just let this column serve as a thank you note.

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.

Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl

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 80th 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 15th 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.

Before MLS there was MSL

Those of us who have a proclivity for alternative sports felt a great disturbance in the Force in 1992, losing both the Major Soccer League (which changed its name from the Major Indoor Soccer League on July 24, 1990) and seeing the World League of American Football suspend operations.

But I’ve already written thousands of words – both in short form and book form – about the WLAF. What I haven’t explored is how the MSL reluctantly positioned itself to spearhead the creation of an outdoor league to fulfill a FIFA (International Federation of Association Football) mandate.

Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl

When the United States was awarded the 1994 World Cup in 1988, soccer’s international governing body insisted that the country have a First Division men’s outdoor league by 1992 as part of the deal.

The North American Soccer League had folded in 1985, but the MISL was still in business and – by soccer standards – doing relatively well at the box office. Founded in 1978, it quickly established itself as more than a just a six-a-side indoor gimmick and in 1984 had a league-high 14 teams and saw its championship series televised by CBS.

So in 1990 the circuit decided to rebrand as the Major Soccer League and bill itself as the primary association football circuit in the United States. It even tweaked its rules, widening the goal by two feet and raising the height by a foot and requiring a distance of 15 feet rather than 10 between the ball and defenders on all free kicks.

“We’re like America before World War II,” MSL commissioner Earl Foreman told the Baltimore Sun in the summer of 1990. “We can no longer be an isolationist league. We’ve been told our players are needed for the U.S. National outdoor teams and we’re needed for the election of U.S. Soccer Federation officials. The MISL no longer represents what we are exclusively.

“Our thrust is still on indoor soccer, but our horizons are widening. Hopefully we’ll be playing some outdoor games by next summer.”

The American Professional Soccer League was also formed in 1990 thanks to a merger of the Western Soccer League and third iteration of the American Soccer League. The APSL was outdoor only and promised to upgrade salaries, but was designated as a regional pro league by the USSF.

“We’ve been told by the U.S. Soccer Federation that we have a responsibility to soccer,” Foreman said. “The federation is very interested in us. We find ourselves in a strange situation. We just want to go and play indoor soccer, but we’ve had the responsibility laid on us that we’re the only major professional soccer league in the country.”

When the newly-named MSL began its 1990 season, it had already played 12 indoor seasons and averaged nearly 8,000-fans per game. If it could somehow transfer that enthusiasm outdoors, it had a chance to be what the USSF was looking for and meet FIFA’s requirements.

“We all know our main product is indoor soccer,” St. Louis owner Milan Mandaric told the Evening Sun of Baltimore. “But, at the same time, soccer is being played outdoors and we cannot ignore that. We want to participate in a professional and economic way.”

Ultimately, Foreman was selected to chair the governing body’s exploratory committee for a first-division outdoor league.

The hope was to combine the MSL, APSL and National Professional Soccer League (also an indoor circuit) into one league that would play 36 indoor games and 20 outdoor games. The indoor season would take place from November to the end of April each year and the outdoor season would start in June and finish by the end of September.

However, American soccer is nothing if not dysfunctional, and MSL never made the transition from arenas to stadiums and the hybrid league was never realized.

Financial woes became evident toward the end of the 1990-91 Major Soccer League season, and after St. Louis and Tacoma left the league with only five franchises, MLS folded on July 10, 1992, and the United States was without a major national professional league.

“We’ve been fighting this and working together for months now,” Foreman told the Associated Press. “St. Louis was shaky and we just couldn’t bolster it up. At this time, we probably have the strongest group of owners we’ve ever had, we just don’t have enough of them.”

When the end came, MISL/MSL had featured 32 different teams and drawn more than 27 million fans to its games.

“If there is a legacy, the legacy is the sport,” Foreman said. “I have faith in the game. We were probably a year away from having a truly international league of U.S., Canada and Mexico.”

Although the United States failed to meet FIFA’s requirement, the plug wasn’t pulled on the World Cup because FIFA always finds a way to bend rules to suit itself.

Major League Soccer was officially founded on December 17, 1993, and although it wouldn’t begin play until 1996, the lords of football were satisfied and the first World Cup ever staged on United States soil began on June 17, 1994.