Normally, we wouldn’t bother to mention any of this: why burden you with another miserable tale of dashed hopes when we have Harry Thomason to kick around like a soccer ball? But next Sunday the nation begins a yearlong run-up to the grand games with a round robin called the U.S. Cup. We are, of course, a bighearted nation, and so have invited three of the great national teams-England, Germany and Brazil-to come to the States and kick us around. “Given the timing and the quality of the opponents, the U.S. Cup may be the most significant soccer ever played in this country,” says Jim Trecker, spokesman for World Cup USA 1994.
First step:The mini-tourney will serve as a trial run, testing everything from ticketing to security (in Boston, the British are coming!) to the ability of agronomists to keep grass alive in an indoor stadium (box). Above all, it looms as the first major step in the U.S. Soccer Federation’s effort to trans-form millions of playing enthusiasts (and their parents) into paying fans-and to establish a future for professional soccer in America.
To do that, the American team must demonstrate that homegrown players can compete with the world’s soccer elite. “It’s important to educate the public that they have a team worth believing in,” says Roy Wegerle, a South African import whose dual citizenship allows him to play for the U.S. am. Corporate sponsors are on board: Coca-Cola, GM, McDonald’s and Gillette have each kicked in at least $15 million. Television will do its part. ABC and ESPN will broadcast the World Cup. And on June 13, the U.S. team will make its network debut in a game against Germany, the defending World Cup champion. “What we don’t want to see is the U.S. embarrass itself,” says David Downs, vice president of programming at ABC Sports.
When it comes to international soccer, the U.S. team has known mostly embarrassment. In 1990 the United States qualified for its first World Cup in 40 years. The team was routed 5-1 by Czechoslovakia in its opening game, then lost the next two. (As host country, it automatically qualifies this time.) To prevent a repetition, the United States hired a new coach, Bora Milutinovic. A native Serb, he’s been a peripatetic miracle worker, coaching Mexico and Costa Rica to superb World Cup results. But Bora works miracles his own way, which, even team general manager Bill Nuttall concedes, “doesn’t always follow a perceived logical sequence.
The coach has eschewed set lineups, tried some three dozen different players and emphasized experience over results. “I know Americans always want to be first,” he says. “But sometimes how you play is more important than who wins.” Bora recalls that in 1986 his Mexican team lost its final World Cup warm-up to England by the breathtaking score of 3-0. While Mexican fans despaired, Bora says he knew the team was ready; it reached the quarterfinals and battled Germany to a scoreless tie before losing a shoot-out. (In World Cup play, ties are broken by giving each side five shots at the opposing goalie.) Shootouts of any kind appeal to an American audience, but it’s not clear whether reaching the quarterfinals would raise much lasting U.S. interest in the game.
Bora promises that the United States will be “competitive” next week, though he quickly adds that “‘competitive’ does not mean ‘winning’.” His team will be augmented by about a half-dozen top players returning from the European pro leagues. Still, some in the American soccer community worry that the coach isn’t concerned with the bigger picture-building a soccer constituency in this country. Bora preaches ball control with short passes rather than long breakout kicks and flashy individual rushes. His approach tends to be conservative and defensive. “If the U.S. ties Germany 0-0, it’s a great result,” says Paul Kennedy, managing editor of Soccer America magazine. “But if it’s a boring game and the U.S. has no scoring chances, it won’t do a thing to promote soccer in this country.”
The coach says the big picture remains World Cup ‘94. If he propels the American team into the second round for the first time since 1930, Bora believes nothing else-not style and certainly not any ‘93 results-will matter. “The bottom line is who can challenge Bora when he says, ‘I know what I’m doing’,” says general manager Nuttall. “He’s the one who’s been there before.” But if he’s wrong, Bora will soon learn about a different American sports tradition. He won’t be around to go there again.
