I’d like to introduce you to someone exceptional, also someone gone too soon. You’re going to meet a man who, in retrospect, might have been Washington’s first to be enshrined in the National Soccer Hall of Fame. Instead, his tale is a tragic one, where an individual’s flaw unfortunately proved fatal: He loved the game too much.
I doubt you know of William Patrick “Billy” McGrath. For that matter, most of our state’s newfound fans of soccer have no clue about Barney Kempton or Vic Weston or Eddie Craggs. All are hall of famers, Greater Seattle’s Mr. Soccer of their day; great players or coaches who, over several decades, were always finding new ways to put this game on proper or firmer footing so that it might survive, grow and become what it was destined to be, what it is today.
William Patrick “Billy” McCrath, ca. 1924
If there’s a Rushmore for Washington’s first 75 years as a footy community, those three – Kempton, Weston and Craggs – would have their faces chiseled into the mountainside. And the fourth position might well have been McGrath. If only, if only.
I first got to know Billy McGrath while scouring the local newspaper archives, discovering and curating content for what I hope to be a lasting and living testament to everyone who has ever contributed to our golden standing in the football world. I’d been asked by a Museum of History and Industry (MOHAI) representative to examine some archival photographs that lacked captions or context. One photo in particular was puzzling and also inviting. It was a wide-angle shot of a game where spectators are surrounding the field seemingly at the edge of a forest, abutting a stand of trees.
In 1944 – at the height of WWII – Italian POWs arrived in Puget Sound. Their Allied captors allowed many freedoms, including formation of multiple teams in Washington state amateur soccer’s top division.
On the evening of April 17, 1945, players, coaches, sponsors and officials of the Washington State Football Association gathered at Seattle’s stylish Olympic Hotel to celebrate winners of the various competitions held during the preceding six months. During the social hour, guests undoubtedly discussed the latest news of the world, of which there was no shortage. World War II was being waged in two theaters, and while an Allied victory appeared at hand in Europe, President Franklin Roosevelt would not live to see it. Five days earlier Roosevelt had died from a massive stroke, and now the United States had a new leader, commander-in-chief, Harry Truman.
Aerial view of Fort Lawton, taken in 1965, 20 years after World War II ended. In 1973 , much of its 534 acres in Seattle’s Magnolia neighborhood was given to the city and became Discovery Park. (Courtesy City of Seattle Municipal Archives)
Since
the bombing of Pearl Harbor, news of the war had been inescapable. It dominated
headlines and everyday dialogue. Now the war was having a profound effect upon
the state’s top amateur league, evidenced by the parade to the podium to
pick-up the WSFA trophies. A previously non-existent club was being presented
three pieces of silverware, including the ancient (1906) McMillan Cup.
At
the end of this day, members of this triumphant team would not go home. Instead
they would be remanded to their supervising officer and returned to their
barracks. Known as the 28th Italian Service Unit, these were officially
prisoners of war. Prisoners of a onetime enemy. Prisoners with privileges, yet
prisoners just the same.
A
World Power (On the Pitch)
Just 10 years earlier, Italian football had announced itself on a much larger stage. Without question, the Azurri were the Team of the Thirties, making a triumphant entrance to World Cup play by not only hosting the tournament but also becoming the first European nation to claim it. From that date until the outbreak of World War II, no national team was more revered than Italy which followed with a gold-medal performance at the 1936 Summer Olympics and another World Cup victory in 1938. During that stretch they ran roughshod, winning 38 and drawing six in 48 full internationals. Such success only served to further fuel a dictator’s desire for a new Roman empire.
Poster promoting Italy hosting the 1934 FIFA World Cup.
Benito Mussolini wanted the Azurri to be the embodiment of his Fascist movement, exhibiting a strength, cunning and physicality reflective of the new, merging Italy. As noted in David Goldblatt’s The Ball Is Round, the national team was exploited, used as a tool to create a warlike spirit. The manager later said, however, that players were generally not interested in their play making a political statement. They loved the game. Soon enough, however, war was a reality.
A Beating on Battlefield
Mussolini
joined Hitler’s Nazi Germany and Japan in forming the Axis powers yet was
comparatively ill-equipped, undermanned and poorly trained. Many soldiers were
unwilling combatants. Consequently, Italy took repeated beatings on the
battlefield.
Many
of these unenthusiastic conscripts to Mussolini’s army were among the 200,000
taken prisoner by the Allies in May 1943 following the Battle of Tunisia. If
being shot at and losing comrades while fighting for a deluded dictator was not
sufficiently demoralizing, some Italian prisoners were subjected to torture and
starvation under a blazing sun by Tunisian guards. Allied forces eventually divvied
up the POWs, and by January 1944 over 50,000 were bound for detention in the
United States. Some, however, would soon be given privileges previously
unheard-of.
Note: This originally ran in The Seattle Times shortly after Mike Ryan’s passing, on Nov. 28, 2012.
Today’s local soccer landscape is associated with Hope Solo, Sounders FC and, yes, large, loud crowds. Yet to reach the zenith and become the continent’s capital of the sport required a huge amount of underpinning.
Mike Ryan was the first coach of the U.S. Women’s National Team.
Several unsung individuals have served as pillars, and none played a more prominent role than the late Mike Ryan. From his arrival in Seattle 50 years ago to his passing last week, Ryan went about building a foundation spanning virtually every area of the sport. Whether it’s youth, college, women’s or professional soccer across Puget Sound, you will find his handiwork.
“Mike did a world of good and Seattle soccer is his legacy,” says Jimmy McAlister, one of Ryan’s star pupils, a breakthrough professional and now Seattle United coaching director. ‘There are a lot of legendary players for the (original) Sounders, but we didn’t get this started. The cornerstones of this success were guys like Mike Ryan.”
Even by standards 50 years ago it was a modest match day program. Yet it matched the surroundings and, some might say, the fare that was on display that afternoon.
Still, it was a start. Turning the page, maybe spectators took pause from watching the stocky, commanding figure standing astride of the benches, to let the significance of the day soak in.
In a simple font, probably prepared on someone’s personal typewriter, flow the words: “We are sure that this game will be a milestone in the history of soccer in our state.” It goes on: “It is with pleasure and a feeling of satisfaction we are able to act as hosts to the first all-professional soccer game held in our state.”
West Seattle Stadium’s main stand is virtually the same as 50 years ago, when Vancouver met Bonsucesso.
It’s actually easy to picture the setting today. West Seattle Stadium sits virtually untouched, not only in the 50 years since but the 80 since being erected. The main stand, wooden and covered, could serve as a stunt double for a mid-20th Century British ground. The weather on that February 11, 1968 was practically spring-like: Bright sunshine and mild temperatures after a cold, soggy start to the new year. The grass is a bit long and ungroomed while the ground itself is soft from repeated rains.
If your idea of a perfect winter holiday is to while away the hours watching live top-class soccer, you best not live near Seattle.
Among native Puget Sounders, perhaps only octogenarians can speak of such an experience in their lifetime. As we take a view to scores of frigid, rain-swept Premier League matches pressed into a cramped calendar, we can only surmise that long ago someone came to their senses and simply said, No more.
Most state league games through 1920 were played on playfields with little grass and no seating for spectators, who ringed the pitch.
Who knows, someday MLS may conform to the FIFA time table. But a look back at the last century or so illustrates why playing through the winter is problematic in Cascadia and downright impossible in the majority of MLS markets. New Year’s Day 2018 forecasts 12 of those cities mired in sub-freezing temperatures. Montreal’s high is predicted to reach minus-6 degrees F.
But enough about MLS. This is more a story of the hardened souls (masochists, some might say) in Seattle’s long-ago past who truly played for the love of the game and the sense of community it fosters, and did so in some of the most trying of circumstances. This is a tale of how and why our forefathers once tread the less-than-firma terra during the short, bleak and, yes, festive days of winter.
It’s now been two years since I began my blog and returned to writing about soccer, mostly in a Washington-centric, historical context.
Sure, there could be a compendium of such abstract topics published in a book someday. But why not share some of it soon, not later. Here, then, are XV pieces that appeared either on my blog or other digital outlets during 2016. I enjoyed researching and writing them, and hopefully you enjoy them as well.
Once you’ve lived through an epic turnaround, your faith becomes stronger. And for reasons illustrated in this Seattle Times feature, I always held out hope the Sounders would overcome all the adversity and play for a championship. As it turned out, they did their predecessors one better by winning the final.
Note: This article was first published in 2008, shortly after the closing of Sports Specialties. Denzil Miskell passed away in October 2016.
All too quietly, a tiny jewel of Seattle’s sporting history has slipped into the past.
Officially it was Sports Specialties, yet for 33 years the cramped, quaint soccer shop in Belltown was simply synonymous with the name of its distinctive owner, Denzil.
Denzil Miskell was interviewed by Washington State Legends of Soccer on Sept. 21 at West Seattle Stadium. (Photo by Leann Johnson)
Know this: Denzil Miskell is alive and doing well, but behind the nondescript storefront on Second Avenue sits an empty vessel. All that remains of this everyman’s gem is the generic player painted on the plate glass front, and a brief note on the door from Denzil explaining the absence.
For those who have grown to appreciate the Lamar Hunt U.S. Open Cup for its history, gritty displays and penchant for upsets, the Washington chapter can deliver on all those counts and more.
When Sounders FC pulls into the StubHub Center’s track venue for the quarterfinal date with the Galaxy, it will almost be like old, old times. Like when a Seattle side first ventured into southern California for a quarterfinal that, incidentally, was 50 years ago. Spoiler alert: Seattle did OK. That day, anyway. But more on that later.
At the ripe old age of 90, Mr. Lipton stands up straight, and though he shows signs of obvious wear there is a gleam to his appearance. Women with flowing hair, goddesses perhaps, flank him on either side.
Sir Thomas Lipton Trophy, made solid sterling silver, stands nearly three feet and was crafted 90 years ago.
Lipton’s got it pretty good. Folks take care of him, and he’s got a room with a view. Unlike his prime, he no longer gets out much, if at all, and the notion of young people picking him up and jubilantly hoisting him skyward is certainly out of the question. Still, with proper care and attention, there’s no reason to think Lipton won’t outlive us all.
Such is life for the stately Sir Thomas Lipton Trophy, likely among the oldest surviving artifacts of a rich soccer history that reaches back to the days before Washington’s statehood. Lipton and other sterling relics of their kind are hiding around the Seattle area, some of them in plain sight.
While the brightly-lighted Sounders FC trophy case on Occidental displays our biggest, brightest and most recent plunder–a Supporters’ Shield plus four Open Cups–the bulk of Washington’s historical treasures reside in a couple ordinary offices.
Sir Thomas Lipton, second from left, during his 1912 visit to Seattle Courtesy University of Washington Libraries)
Soccer’s history is glutted with millions of matches where one, two or three goals are scored. So when perusing a local club’s all-time results, it reads much like binary code, with a few crooked numbers thrown in. But just when the eyelids are feeling very heavy, out of nowhere a whopper of a score line appears.
This is the story behind one such score line which, given contemporary conditions, seems inexplicable. Ah, but context is everything.
For the region, it’s about two intra-city rivals vying for a chance to make history. For Washington state’s most established men’s collegiate program, it’s a story of how a proud program can reach it’s then-zenith and nadir, all in the span of some 20 hours.
It’s the tale of a shotgun playoff, bending the rules between friends, a critical yet costly play and the extenuating circumstances surrounding not only the University of Washington’s first excursion outside the Northwest, but also their initial invitation to the NCAA tournament.
