There's a Moon Out Tonight

   Police and reporters will tell you they always know when it's a full moon because that's when all the crazies come out.  Tonight's spectacular full moon in South Jersey may well bring out some strange people, but it also reminded me of the great song by the Capris and a great soccer story from my brother, Gary.

  When he's had time from his full-time job teaching religion at a New England prep school, Gary has coached soccer and ice hockey on and off over the years at the school.  A number of seasons back he was coaching a girls team when one of the deans stopped by practice to briefly discuss an academic matter.  Apparently the dean had done something to antagonize the students and as she walked away from the field, one of Gary's players mooned her.

   Gary happened to catch a glimpse of the moon and asked the girl, "Did I see what I thought I just saw?"

   "Just adjusting my equipment, Coach," replied the player.

Bundesliga Kicks Off 2nd Half Century

The German Bundesliga begins its 51st season tomorrow when Borussia Mönchengladbach visits defending champion Bayern München.  Bayern is coming off a "triple" in '12-'13: winners of the Bundesliga, the DFB (German Football Federation) Cup and the European Champions League title.

At the other end of the table are Eintracht Braunschweig, returning to the First Division after a 28 year absence, and Hertha Berlin, back after a brief period of relegation to the Second Bundesliga.  Eintracht has special meaning as the site of the first European game I ever saw in person.  My high school had an affiliation with a school in Braunschweig, an old Hanseatic city between Hannover and the Harz Mountains.  My family hosted the first exchange student from the school and after college I visited his family in 1968 and saw Eintracht play.  When my son and daughter lived in Berlin in 2001 we saw Hertha play Bayern in the Olympic Stadium on a cold December night in a fast-paced, exciting match that ended in a 2-1 Hertha victory and 50,000 fans singing Nur Nach Hause (gehen wir nicht).

I'm hardly an expert on European soccer and the differing styles of play but have always enjoyed the Bundesliga's all-out, up the middle go for the goal play.  Here's to the next 50 years.

By The Numbers: Soccer Stats

  As the lead in this article by Jack Bell in last Friday's New York Times notes, "Soccer is not a sport seduced by numbers, unless that number is three — as in the points awarded for a win."

  However, there is a constant effort to quantify the sport along the lines of football and baseball.  Even when I played in college more than 45 years ago, the school's sports information director had to mention how many saves a goalie had in a match or how many shots were taken.  (In our case, our goalies had plenty of saves because the other teams took most of the shots.)  Watch a pro game now and you'll see information on time of possession, number of touches,  percent of bad passes, and more. 

  Now, those who want to dissect every last movement on the field, there is a book: “The Numbers Game,” subtitled “Why Everything You Know About Soccer Is Wrong.” According to the Times, it will be available this week, so I'll have to read it and let you know what I think.

Phil Woosnam, Long-Time NASL Commissioner, Dies

Phil Woosnam, the Welsh professional player who came to the United States and served as commissioner of the North American Soccer League for 15 seasons, died Friday in Georgia, as reported by the New York Times.

After playing more than 300 matches for Leyton Orient, Aston Villa and West Ham United, and earning 17 caps for Wales, Woosnam came to the United States in 1966 and played for the NASL Atlanta Chiefs beginning in '67 and became coach of the team in '68.  The following year he became coach of the U.S. National Team.  A year later he became commissioner of the NASL, a post he held for 15 seasons.

I had occasion to get to know Phil a bit when I worked for an upstart soccer publication called Soccer Weekly, that lasted just one year.  He was a nice enough guy and as I recall reasonably accessible, but we always had the impression that he felt the league didn't need us.  We were hoping for some contacts with sponsors as potential advertisers but never got it.

Afterall, the NASL was on an upswing, growing from nine teams and average attendance of 5,954 (usually in large stadiums) in 1973 to a high point of 24 teams and average attendance and average crowds of 14,440 in 1980.  But it wasn't part of the sporting fabric of the country.  It wasn't regularly on television or in Sports Illustrated, or talked about at the local bars.  And that's where Phil and the other powers of the league missed out: by not helping the grass roots local media.  Maybe the league would have ultimately failed anyway, given the over-expansion, the tanking of the economy in the '80s, and the over-spending on player salaries, all of which contributed to the demise shortly before the 1985 season.  But the free publicity of lot os small media outlets around the country couldn't have hurt.

Phil Woosnam went from his commissioner's post to the marketing arm of U.S. Soccer and is given some credit for getting the men's World Cup for the United States in 1994.  In 1997 he was elected to the U.S. Soccer Hall of Fame, a well-deserved accolade.

First Trip to PPL Park

   Finally made it to PPL Park Saturday night to see the Union play for the first time since their inaugural match back on April 10, 2010 at the Linc.  Despite the oppressive humidity and the electrical storm that delayed the second half and caused us to leave before the half began, it was a fun time as the Union played to a scoreless tie with the Portland Timbers.

   Just as the teams left the field for intermission, the lightning bolts from the dark storm clouds across the Delaware River coupled with a downpour forced an extended halftime of nearly 40 minutes,  Between the humidity, the later hour and the prospect of wet seats and possibly more rain, Debbie and I left just as play resumed.

   The 45 minutes we watched were entertaining, albeit somewhat slow-paced, but the it was about 90 degrees at the opening whistle.  Although the Inquirer reported a sell-out of 18,740, we saw quite a few empty seats at the opening whistle.  I thought the Timbers generally had the better of the play in the first half, although the Union certainly had some chances.  But according to the Inquirer, the home team stepped it up in the second half and Portland needed some great saves from Donovan Ricketts to salvage the draw.

   We sat on the southwest corner, 19 rows from the field, inside the 18-yard line, and not far from the boisterous Sons of Ben fan club's area on the south end.  It was very cool when the Sons unfurled a large American flag as the crowd joined in to sing the Star Spangled Banner.  The Sons kept up the noise level, and drum beats, throughout the half.  There was a lame attempt by the team to have everyone sing I'm Looking Over a Four Leaf Clover at the 20:10 mark of the game to commemorate the team's founding in 2010.  I get the 20:10 but no one explained the significance of the song and it doesn't matter because very few sang it.

   The stadium itself is everything positive I'd read about it: clean, soccer-specific, good seating, plenty or rest rooms and uncrowded (but typically over-priced) concessions stands.  Definitely a good place to watch a game, and far more convenient to South Jersey fans than Villanova Stadium where the Philadelphia Charge (R.I.P.) of the W.U.S.A. played.  The parking is likewise overpriced at $20, but the lots are well lit and managed by the team,  They could use some numbering of areas to make it easier to find your car afterwards, and the signage leading out of Lot C where we parked is confusing or non-existent, as are the signs directing traffic to and from the Commodore Barry Bridge.

  

Boycott The World Cup?

   In Brazil, no less, the winner of more men's World Cups (five) than any other nation, protesters are calling on  fans around the world to boycott next year's Cup.  Seems like people there get just as upset as here when the government spends huge sums of money to build sporing venues while overlooking other basic needs.

  As reported in the June 21 issue of the New York Times, the government is spending more than $13 billion to prepare for the World Cup.

   “I think Brazilians are feeling insulted to see that there was political will and large investments to construct big, FIFA-quality soccer fields,” said Antonio Carlos Costa, 51, a Presbyterian pastor and leader of Rio de Paz, a group that combats social inequalities in Brazil. “And when these stadiums went up, the people saw that there was not the same political will to use public funds to build the same standard of schools, hospitals, and public security.”

The End of JAGS

It begins with registration at the Mercer County Park HQ Tent. 

Nobody else is dwelling on the last JAGS, so I guess I shouldn't either.  But I'll miss it.

It was a great run - 33 years - for the tournament and for me as the college coordinator for more than 10 years.  Next year for the first time in nearly 20 years I won't be spending Father's Day on a soccer field.

Of all the long-time committee members at Mercer County Park this past weekend, no one really said anything about the end of an institution in youth soccer.  Work Friday and family commitments 

The sun is coming up at MCP at 7 a.m.

Sunday prevented me from going to breakfast or dinner with everyone on those days, which was my loss because they are such good people.  As I have often said, the tournament seems to run itself because everyone knows his or her job very well and does it very well.  But that would not be giving enough credit to tournament directors Tom Bayless and Rick Firth, who along with many others have put in countless hours every year to make this event work so well.

On my end, I've enjoyed meeting many college coaches, many of whom such as Joe Russo (TCNJ), John Sumoski (Wilkes), Christa Racine

Setting up the HQ tent early on Saturday.

(Drew), Erik Burstein (Kutztown), Rick Brownell (Arcadia), Nick Juengert (Stockton), Tim Dempsey (Mansfield), Kevin Davies (Centenary) and others, I consider friends even though I see them only once a year.  Many return year after year with the same school, others show up new to the job.  Now, many are younger than my own kids.  One who was here this weekend was a teammate of my son's in Medford nearly 20 years ago and is married to one of my former players.  I love hearing the coaches stories of the season just past, of seasons to come, of their own backgrounds in the sport.

The sausage sandwich with pepper and onions is huge.

The weekend was not without nostalgia.  I followed some of the same rituals I have for years: an early stop at the Dunkin Donuts at Sloan Avenue and Quaker Bridge Road before heading over to Mercer County Park; carrying the box of college coaches' profile books across the grass slickened by morning dew and setting up the table at the headquarters tent; the Italian sausage sandwich lunch at the concession stand Saturday, riding the golf carts around the site to make sure all the college coaches were happy.

And watching the games brought back memories.  There were smiles and laughter: The joy of scoring a goal, winning a game, advancing to the championship,  parents and girls hanging out with friends between games.  There was tension.  Players being a little nervous if a coach from one of their colleges was there.  And there were some tears: the frustration of giving up a goal, of losing, or worse, of an injury.  They are scenes played out thousands of time each year on soccer fields around the country.  They are scenes that have been part of my life for so long.

Sunday John Esposito and I talked about my good friend, Joe Dadura, who died last December.  Not surprisingly, John mentioned what a good age group coordinator Joe had been, trying to do the best for all the teams, not just his own.

But it's over.  I watched a good U16 championship game between the Randolph Rampage and the South Jersey  Elite Barons '96 (Barons won, 2-1) and that was it.  I drove my cart back to the HQ tent, said goodbye to John Esposito, Bill Gosselin and Tom Bayless and drove home for a Fathers Day dinner.