Pedigree suggests I had no future in soccer. Our town had no youth program, let alone a high school team. So we started our own club. Then I had a mercifully brief tryout at the University of Washington. Apart from an intramural championship and several seasons in the state league, that's it.
Nevertheless, the game intrigues me to this day. Some days it's tactics and player combinations. But mostly it how the game connects the people on this planet and marks time.
Nothing has ever come easily for soccer in America. Failures abound. But if the mark of a champion is getting knocked down only to climb back to your feet, then it there's a real possibility fùtbol will not only persevere but flourish.
I've tried to do my part, be it as a paying fan, a journalist, a publicist or historian based in the nation's soccer capital, Seattle. So this blog serves as an outlet to share what I've collected from 30-some years in around the sport in these parts, as well as the shared experience of going forward together.
He calls it “God’s sense of humor.” Others contend it’s coincidence. It’s objectively known as The 47 Factor, and it somehow figured into each of Seattle Pacific University’s five NCAA Championships under coach Cliff McCrath.
McCrath adopted his lucky number upon joining the Wheaton College soccer team in 1955. He was issued an old football jersey bearing the number 47. He went on to become a three-time All- American and wore a 47 on his shirts throughout his 38 seasons as men’s coach.
In 1978, the Falcons won their first NCAA Championship, scoring a huge upset over No. 1 Alabama A&M. The time of the deciding goal: 126:47. In 1983, Seattle Pacific captured a second title by toppling top-ranked Tampa. At the time McCrath was 47 years of age. SPU took home its third trophy in ’85 by clipping Florida International, 3-2. It marked McCrath’s 470th game as coach.
College soccer in the Pacific Northwest had only just begun. The season was short, the coaches part-time and there was precious little fan support or media coverage. There were scores and standings and not much else. Yet, as for those latter two categories, unfashionable Western Washington State College’s men’s club program cast an outsized shadow.
Now, some 55 years later, let the record show that, a) it did happen, b) it was no fluke, and c) there is a story to tell of the small but mighty Vikings and their four-year rule over frustrated varsity foes who were confounded by a band of students who funded their own trips, lined their own fields and largely picked their own lineups.
While being high achievers, the Western men of yore were never accused of taking themselves too seriously or over-training. In fact, they won admiration from opponents and Western varsity athletes who recognized their qualities, both on and off the pitch. They were more than teammates; they were tightknit friends and remain so to this day. More than anything, that might’ve been the secret to their success.
A League of Their Own
As athletic director of the state’s most established and resourced men’s soccer program, Joe Kearney must have envisioned that the new conference he was founding would only fortify that status. The University of Washington could now adjust its sights on competing for national recognition.
Ahead of the 1968 season, Kearney, the Huskies’ AD, had cobbled together the four-school Western Washington Soccer Conference, the first of its kind in the Pacific Northwest. He also would serve as commissioner. Joining UW would be newly launched varsity programs at Seattle University and Seattle Pacific, plus the student-organized club from Western Washington.
Action from the 1969 season (Western Front archives)
All credit to Kearney, who unlike his successor, demonstrably cared about non-revenue-producing programs such as soccer. It had taken a couple years for the sport to reach critical mass to create a league. But back then, if anyone had asked Kearney or anyone else what they would predict for the formative first few years of the WWSC, it would’ve been Washington as overwhelmingly perennial favorite, with Seattle U. and Seattle Pacific to follow.
Some 40 years ago, while at the University Book Store, I crossed paths with a book like none other. After consuming many a book about soccer tactics, skills and history, The Soccer Tribe was about the game’s rituals, its participants and its followers. Written by noted British zoologist Dr. Desmond Morris, it studied human beings through the footy lens.
The Soccer Tribe took a macro approach to observing people who surround the game. In Soccer Stories of Old Seattle and Around the World, it is a more nuanced, micro examination by author and Seattle native Phil Davis and co-contributor Bob Smith.
From July 23 through July 27, 2024, electronic copies of Soccer Stories of Old Seattle and Around the World will be available free of charge from Amazon. Davis asks that in lieu of a payment during that period, readers consider making a donation to Washington State Legends of Soccer, either for its scholarship fund or ongoing initiatives.
Davis shares tales of places he’s visited, people he’s met or discovered – all at the intersection of soccer and life.
Asked about his newly published book’s message, Davis writes that in a country and world that often presents itself as deeply divided, “Friendship between different kinds of people is possible. So is world peace, or at least the end of long wars,” he added. “We practice every four years with the World Cup. All that is needed is a sporting attitude, a few rules developed by Thomas Aquinas 850 years ago, and the beautiful game.”
Forty years ago, the best young players in America were choosing scholarship offers over signing bonuses. Whereas three years before there had been 33 clubs paying a living wage, by 1984 there were 21.
It was an Olympic year, and the United States would play before huge home crowds – upwards of 78,000 – in California during July. But by the fall, the number of professional teams would dwindle to 12 and none of them would play outdoors, 11-a-side. Instead, the fog and lasers and thumping soundtrack of Major Indoor Soccer League showmanship ruled the day.
“Back then, soccer was imploding all over the United States,” former Seattle Sounders coach Jimmy Gabriel said in 2007. “There was no real soccer league at that time. Everything was going in the wrong direction.”
Into this bleak landscape came a wind of change: Football Club Seattle.
Once a Sounders captain and head coach, Jimmy Gabriel conceived the FC Seattle approach to development. (Frank MacDonald Collection)
One of the First FCs
Rather than sit and stew, Gabriel got busy. He and others hatched an idea to flip the script on a foreign-dominated domestic game and convinced a new convert to fund a new enterprise. In the summer of ’84, FC Seattle would go against the flow, develop their fair share of followers and, within a year, start a new league that has since morphed into the USL.
In terms of a name, FC Seattle came from the future – and the old country. It would be 21 years until FC Dallas became the MLS Burn’s rebrand, ushering in a slew of FCs and SCs. In truth, FC Seattle had been a few senior amateur teams (two men, one women’s). It also had an over-30 league entry, featuring Gabriel, the Washington Youth Soccer coaching director, and a handful of ex-Sounders, plus Cliff McCrath, then the storied coach at Seattle Pacific. Another teammate, new to the game, was Bud Greer.
They were fearless from the first kick. And 45 seconds later, they began making believers of fans and foes alike.
If footy supporters around Puget Sound feared the Vancouver Whitecaps would wipe the Astroturf with the amateurs of Football Club Seattle, they were at least given pause when the local lads stormed in front in their inaugural match at Memorial Stadium.
Forty-five seconds into its challenge series versus Vancouver and two other NASL clubs, plus the U.S. Olympic Team, Bruce Raney bulged the west end netting. His former college coach, Cliff McCrath, climbed a railing and thrust his first in the air as fans, some yet to find their seats, screamed in delight.
Off and Running
FC Seattle was off and running. A win would come, and crowds would grow, albeit modestly, before that first season was finished. Soon after, a feeder system and league play, and a senior women’s team would be launched. Big name players would arrive, two overseas trips taken, and a trophy would be lifted.
Yet it was that belief may have been the biggest biproduct and most enduring legacy.
When the Sounders marched alumni out onto the Lumen Field pitch on June 15, among them were men who never cashed a paycheck or played for any team playing under that name. They played for Football Club Seattle, arguably the most ‘Seattle’ team ever, stocked almost entirely of local players.
Yet FC Seattle is largely unknown to the average fan. It falls through the cracks between two Sounders iterations, the NASL and A-League. It never played before a home sellout crowd. It lasted just even seasons and was semipro, paying players for only two of those years.
Had FC Seattle adopted the Sounders name, it would fit neatly into the narrative. Instead, it opted for ‘Storm,’ developed the next wave of players for critical roles in two championship teams and kept the lights on around Puget Sound when most of American pro soccer was going dark.
FC Seattle’s original crest. (Frank MacDonald Collection)
Forty years ago, in 1984, when 11v11 professional soccer was in its death throes, FC Seattle was the future. It encompassed youth development plus women’s and men’s teams. It helped usher a new league. Without it, there would be an 11-year gap in our heritage and a few less trophies to squawk about.
What’s In a Name?
Stitching together a 50-year history in North American soccer ain’t easy. The graveyard of clubs since the first coast-to-coast league is littered with names ranging from obscure (Apollos) to flavorless (Team Hawaii) to iconic (Cosmos).
FC Seattle owner Bud Greer had at one time contemplated rescuing the NASL Sounders. After it folded and his new club took shape, he chose the name of his men’s premier league side. “The Sounders was a damaged name; it didn’t have a good reputation (in 1984),” noted Greer. A nickname was added after the second season.
All Otey Cannon did was blaze a path, fulfill his role in a legendary squad and make American footy history.
Now, approaching the 50th anniversary of his rather grand entrance into Seattle Sounders lore, Cannon has returned to Seattle, joining other members of the 1974 NASL team to become charter inductees to the Eternal Sounders Circle of Legends.
Few could rival Cannon’s ability to instantly make an impact. He was signed off waivers on June 28, 1974, and made his debut in the next game, eight days later. One particular fan took note of his warming up and was quite vocal. In the 73rd minute of a nil-nil stalemate with St. Louis, he came off the bench.
Otey Cannon celebrates scoring four minutes into his first Sounders shift, vs. St. Louis in 1974. (Frank MacDonald Collection)
“This guy in the stands was screaming my name,” and not in a good way, according to Cannon. “John (Best, head coach) told me to ignore it, to just go out there and play. Then the ball came to me, I hit it – and it went in.”
The resulting roar of the 14,000 at Memorial Stadium effectively silenced that singular loudmouth. Cannon remembers going to his knees in celebration, thinking “Damn, about time!” Beyond that, he doesn’t remember too many specifics. “I was probably just overwhelmed.”
Four minutes into his first Sounders shift, Cannon had scored what proved to be the deciding goal. After losing three straight following star Pepe Fernandez’s season-ending injury, Seattle’s expansion side won its fourth straight and was back in NASL playoff contention. Reminiscent in recent times would be Paul Rothrock’s 2023 winner at Houston – an 83’ entry and 87’ winner – in his MLS debut.
My adoration of Jimmy Gabriel is founded largely on a single half-hour shift and, really, just the first 10 minutes. My profound admiration of our first true Mr. Sounder lasts to this day.
Jimmy Gabriel may no longer walk this earth, but without question his legacy lives on. Every time Brian Schmetzer fills out a lineup sheet or delivers his team talk. Every time Bernie James addresses his kids. Every time Dean Wurzberger or Lesle Gallimore conduct a clinic. And so on and so on.
Jimmy Gabriel celebrates as the Sounders roar back to beat Portland in 1977. (Frank MacDonald Collection)
Our state soccer community thrives on so many fronts: Professional, college, amateur, youth and, of course, our legion of fans. For 20-25 years, Jimmy Gabriel was instrumental in the development of all those. Head coach, coaching director, assistant coach, volunteer: No matter the role, he found a means to contribute, sometimes forcefully, often times quietly. Not much for pomp, he led with his heart, and that’s when he won me over.
It was 1977, Jimmy’s first year after being elevated to head coach, and the Sounders were stumbling mightily out of the gate. Never mind that they lost the first three matches, they didn’t even score, and down 2-nil at home to Portland, Gabriel and the lads were staring at 0-4. Then everything changed.
Never to be Replicated
As a kid watching on TV some 90 miles away, Jimmy’s next act was unforgettable. It will never be replicated, either. Against our fiercest rival, he pulled off his track jacket, un-retired, inserted himself into the match and imposed his will upon the outcome.
What if Seattle’s initial MLS bid had been successful in securing a charter team? And how would that bizarro world script play out?
First the Bad News
Alan Rothenberg no doubt had a lot on his mind. There were fewer than 48 hours between this press conference and the World Cup’s opening match at Chicago’s Soldier Field. As president of U.S. Soccer and Chairman/CEO of World Cup USA, Rothenberg had a lot of balls in the air on June 15, 1994, and here he was, before the almighty FIFA brass and a hoard of international media, announcing the first wave of charter cities for Major League Soccer.
Following a slew of salutations and greetings, Rothenberg got down to the business at hand, naming names as the rebirth of top-tier American professional soccer took a giant step toward reality. He said these would be the first seven, with another three cities to be determined later, with the MLS launch two years away, instead of 1995, as first proposed.
An unexpectedly big crowd for USA vs Russia opened the door to MLS. (Frank MacDonald Collection)
Boston, Columbus, Los Angeles, New Jersey, New York, San Jose and Washington, D.C. Back in Seattle, a roomful of soccer and sports community leaders listened in, hoping for some kind of miracle.
Five months before, there had been no Seattle bid committee. The lack of a suitable stadium nor a local investor/owner made the effort a non-starter. However, as so often has happened since the mid-Seventies, the Puget Sound fans spoke volumes. Over 43,000 came to the Kingdome to see a friendly between the World Cup-bound national teams of the United States and Russia.
If there is to be a monument celebrating John Rowlands, it must stand tall and strong. It must exude tenacity, cunning and somehow exhibit a pinch of mischief.
For John Rowlands must be known for far more than just the goal that sounded our soccer community’s collective awakening. He was a buoyant, forceful personality; someone who would lead you headlong into the fray yet elicit some hardy laughs along the way. He was adventurous, striking out from his homeland for this faraway port to play for a side that had no prior existence. Here he would join, and in many ways lead, likeminded lads who blazed a path for what has become a thriving, footballing realm. He was a beacon.
John Rowlands, who led the line and, in many ways set the carefree tone of those first Sounders teams of the Seventies, has died, a victim of Coronavirus earlier this month in his native northwest England. He was 73.
John Rowlands, ca. 1974 (Frank MacDonald Collection)
Yet to the vast majority of contemporary footy followers around Seattle, the name Rowlands may fail to resonate. You might find a fuzzy image of him on YouTube or the black and white photographs such as those on this page. However, that’s all two-dimensional, and if one really wants to identify themselves a Sounder for life, let’s learn a bit about the late, great Sounder, John Rowlands.
Once John Best got a look at the narrow, crowned and unforgivingly hard Astroturf of Memorial Stadium, Seattle’s first coach envisioned the cast best equipped to win games in those cozy confines while at the same time winning fans. The plan: Those first Sounders would go direct, straight down the middle.
