Marc Stein on his Time in the Soccer Spotlight

Tag : Soccer Hats


ESPN's Marc Stein was at last Thursday's NBA draft.
But his heart wasn't.
His heart was still in the aftershocks of the emotional earthquakeof Wednesday, which was the greatest sporting day of Marc Stein'slife.
As part of a charity event, Stein got to suit up and play hisfavorite sport -- soccer -- with literally the best players in theworld.
Over the weekend his heart finally stopped racing long enough toput pen to paper with some thoughts about his experience.
(UPDATE: Check out some new video .)
I'm truly sorry it's taken so long to hit you with a few (thousand)words about what it was like to play in one of the most amazingplayground games New Yorkers will ever see. But I still haven'tquite made it all the way back to the real world yet, some fivedays since Steve Nash and Claudio Reyna let me intrude on all theluminaries who dribbled in from the NBA and footballing worlds fortheir Showdown In Chinatown.
Before a single ball was kicked last week at Nike Field inManhattan's Sara D. Roosevelt Park, I had already been treated tomore memorable dabbles in participatory journalism than any sportswriter has a right to expect in one lifetime.
But spoiled doesn't even begin to describe me any more.
I thought I was rather lucky when 1977 Australian Open championRoscoe Tanner -- before Tanner's life unraveled in a spiral of jailsentences -- agreed to let me try to return 20 serves on threedifferent surfaces (clay, grass and hard court) for a column in theLos Angeles Daily News.
I hit a much richer lotto years later when the Dallas Sidekicks,one of the signature franchises in the ill-fated Major IndoorSoccer League, signed me to a one-week contract and allowed medress for two matches for a feature in the Dallas Morning News.
Now?
You can safely assume that there's a new No. 1 in my personalPlimptonian Power Rankings.
Thierry Henry, Robbie Fowler and Steve McManaman wearing the yellowof Team Nash with a trio of Phoenix Suns on one side. Baron Davis,Jason Kidd and the interloper from ESPN.com trying to blend in onthe other side with all of the soccer guys from Team Reyna.
At least I wasn't alone in my awe.
"Thierry Henry came down to Chrystie Street," Nash said afterscoring twice in a 9-4 spectacle so unique that fans invaded thepitch for autographs, pictures and shoulder-rubbing with the starsfrom two worlds before and after the match. "I still can't believe it."
The moment moved Henry, too.
"Great, great atmosphere," he said. "It was pretty different thanwhat I'm used to, but we had great fun."
Here's your first-person highlights package from an unforgettableplay day on the eve of the NBA Draft ...
The big trade: Jermaine O'Neal to the Raptors? Richard Jefferson to the Bucks?The late-night blockbuster that forced O.J. Mayo and Kevin Love toswap draft hats?
Not on this scorecard.
The transaction that changed my world last week was the pre-matchtap on the shoulder informing me that I had just been transferredfrom Team Nash to Team Reyna -- no fee involved -- to fill the spotvacated by a late pullout named Joakim Noah.
The strange part?
Fresh off his rookie season with the Bulls, Noah wasn't even one ofthe original recruits for the game but called Nash to volunteer andsaid he was dying to play after reading about the match in the NewYork Post.
The next curveball: All set to start at my natural position wide on the left -- yeah,right -- I lost that privilege and was banished to the bench whenMLS veteran and former Venezuelan national teamer Giovanni Savareseturned up unexpectedly before kickoff. At least I handled it like apro, wiping away the tears before anyone could see them.
The solace: Later that night, Fowler gave me a long, consoling lecture abouthow tough it is to come on as a sub and pick up the pace of theplay, even at the purportedly casual level of a charity match likethis. Fowler being pretty much my favorite player ever, I naturallybelieved every word.
The other late arrival: I have to confess that at first I had no idea who the young manwas. He was obviously going to be playing, with a shiny pair ofadidas boots slung over his shoulder, but he frankly looked like ateen-ager who had sneaked into the hotel bar where all the bignames had gathered to collect their uniforms for the match.
Nash then explained that it was just Salomon Kalou from Chelsea.
Oh.
Turns out that Kalou had just arrived in the States after playingin a World Cup qualifier for the Ivory Coast against Botswana inSouth Africa over the weekend and heard about the Nashfest on hisway to New York for vacation.
He had to buy those boots because he didn't pack any, but Kalouinsisted on playing even though he hadn't been off the plane formore than a couple of hours.
Premiership footballers falling out of the sky. That's the sort offairy tale this thing was.
The lineups: The match was played with nine per side on less-than-fullsizepitch made of artificial turf that realistically was meant foreight-a-side at most.
TEAM NASH Starting IX: Maurizio Bacci (acclaimed fashionphotographer), Leandro Barbosa (Phoenix Suns), Raja Bell (PhoenixSuns), Robbie Fowler (Liverpool legend), Thierry Henry (FCBarcelona and France), Steve McManaman (Liverpool legend), SteveNash (Phoenix Suns), Simone Sandri (NBA TV) and goalkeeper DavideDi Malta (friend of the program)
Substitutes: Venanzio Ciampa (event co-organizer) and Rob Jones(Liverpool legend who couldn't play due to injury)
TEAM REYNA Starting IX: Jozy Altidore (Villareal of Spain and U.S.national team), Gregg Berhalter (Germany's 1860 Munich and UnitedStates), Baron Davis (Golden State Warriors), Salomon Kalou(Chelsea and Ivory Coast), Jason Kidd (Dallas Mavericks),Alessandro Nivola (veteran film actor whose credits include the Goal! football movies), Claudio Reyna (New York Red Bulls and longtimeU.S. captain), Giovanni Savarese (MLS and Venezuelan national teamalumnus) and Mike Quarino (Red Bulls employee and former collegiatekeeper) in goal.
Substitutes: Juan Pablo Angel (Red Bulls striker who couldn't playdue to injury) and Marc Stein (ESPN.com)
Referee: Alberto Giordano (former MLS referee)
The scene: Hopefully by now you've seen some of the pictures. There are lotsof good ones all over the Internet illustrating the lengths thatpeople were willing to go to for a glimpse of a game in a steelcage on the Lower East Side of Manhattan that had nowhere forspectators to sit.
Lang Whitaker of SLAM magazine likened the hordes of people ringedaround the caged playground to the famous picture of Dr. J at Rucker Park back in the day.
I don't know if this gathering could match how big that Ruckercrowd was, but I'm convinced there were at least 2,500 peopleangling for a view. Basically folks stood on (cars, park fixtures,each other) or hung from (fences, light posts, trees) anything theycould find.
And that was the real story.
Most of the participants agreed that the game's standard was betterand more competitive than expected -- "It was nice because everyoneout there could play a little bit," McManaman said -- but no onecould quite believe how big and passionate the audience was, eventhough admission was free-of-charge.
"It was just like we dreamed it would be," Nash said, describinghow he and Reyna intentionally refused to make details of the matchpublic until the game was less than a week away in part to test howquickly word would spread.
"We almost shut that park down."
Said one veteran journalist in attendance who has been closelycovering American soccer for years: "This game generated moreexcitement than any MLS event that I've ever been to."
The star man: On TV, Henry looks NBA lanky. I've seen him in person at twoseparate NBA Finals cheering on Allen Iverson (2001) and thencountryman and close friend Tony Parker (2007) and came away bothyears shocked by how much smaller he seemed in real life.
But now I'm totally confused after spending a little time in hisvicinity on a football pitch. You always hear that word Jordanesque ... that's the kind of presence Henry has. He looms over all.
Plus, everyone wants to be near him. Women, men, you name it.
He's no giant, true, but he's ridiculously strong, maybe even rightthere with Baron.
You just can't get the ball off him. He's also still faster withthe ball at his feet than 99 percent of the world's populationrunning without one, even at nearly 31.
I had to laugh at myself after trying to chase him down once. Iactually had a conversation with myself as I was running, tellingmyself that it would be unwise to stick a foot in and wind up asthe idiot who trips Titi Henry from behind and causes some sort ofcatastrophe.
The funny part is that the mere thought presupposes that I wasclose enough to make any kind of contact with his legs.
I obviously never got that close.
I didn't get to shake the man's hand afterward, either, thanks toPitch Invasion No. 2, but I wish I could have thanked himpersonally. His mere presence helped take Nash's idea from amazingto an all-timer.
Best of all, Henry was there with the clear intent to entertain themasses. Teasing defenders with his dribbling, taunting them withhis juggling, scaring everyone at the park with the missiles flyingoff his right foot ... TH showed us the whole range of his streetball repertoire.
The man of the people: It wasn't Nash or Kalou or even Henry ... and it wasn't close.
Accounting for everything I just said about Henry's Jordanesquedisplay, Baron Davis was the clear fan favorite.
It didn't matter that Baron had never played soccer in his life. Hewowed the crowd with his exuberance, attire and flair for thedramatic.
He played in a Dodgers hat with the LA insignia upside down,sported glasses with thick black rims that wouldn't have looked outof place on celebrity spectator Judah Friedlander from 30 Rock and played in white Reebok Pumps from the Dee Brown era ... whitewith a lot of orange in them.
He also got himself all the way to the far post early on for aneasy tap-in goal, dispossessed his buddy Henry at least once --turns out they've been pals ever since meeting at Parker's wedding-- and could have been sent off three times for two intentionalhand balls resulting in penalty kicks and a playful WWE three-countpin of Fowler after a foul.
Yet it probably didn't hurt BD's popularity that there seemed to benumerous hoop fans in attendance, well aware that he had the rightto opt of his contract and become a free agent Tuesday.
"Every time I turned around," Baron said with a laugh, "it was,'Come to the Knicks!'"
The big surprise: Another slam dunk. It was J-Kidd in a runaway.
I had it way wrong in my preview story when I suggested that Kidd, like Baron, didn't have a soccerbackground.
"That was my first sport," Kidd informed me when he got to town.
You could tell, too. Just like Nash, who has so often credited hissoccer upbringing with helping him see the game better on hardwood,Kidd's famed court vision transferred easily onto the turf. Thegame's first goal came from a slide-rule, cross-field pass fromKidd to Kalou and Kidd was later denied a goal of his own only bythe crossbar.
In short, my Dallas neighbor represented the Southwest Divisionworlds better than I did.
The huge angle that the media crush missed: Fowler is one of the greatest natural-born finishers this game hasever seen and is referred to by Liverpool supporters to this day,without a hint of apology or restraint, as God.
McManaman was Fowler's run-all-day setup man, blessed with pace andan eye for the killer pass and still ranks as England's mostsuccessful individual export after leaving Liverpool in 1999 andwinning the Champions League twice with Real Madrid.
But it's rare that you bring up one without mentioning the other.They're that close as mates and were that deadly as a tag team formuch of the 1990s, so telepathically good together that I couldn'tresist adopting them as favorites long before they ever both woundup at my beloved Manchester City in 2003.
Their split nearly 10 years ago was akin to Nash leaving DirkNowitzki behind in Dallas to sign with Phoenix in the summer of2004. Fowler and McManaman were then almost never healthy at thesame time in their City days to even have a chance to try to clickin sky blue like they did at Anfield.
That made Wednesday's reunion even more historic, with both showingup sharp: Fowler with three well-taken goals and McManaman involvedin at least five of Team Nash's nine.
Neither Growler nor Macca could even remember the last time theyplayed together when I asked, but post-match research revealed thatthey were last in the same team on March, 7, 2005. City lost 1-nilat home to Bolton that day in what proved to be McManaman's finalmatch as a pro as well as the finale for Blues manager KevinKeegan, who resigned shortly after the defeat. Keegan had luredboth of them to City after coaching Fowler and McManaman in hisstint as England's national team coach.
The self-analysis: Thanks to ESPNsoccernet's Jen Chang and TrueHoop's Henry Abbott , you've been subjected to enough coverage of my, uh, exploits. SoI'll try to keep it brief.
As a professional self-loather, I've naturally second-guessedeverything. I've been torturing myself with what-ifs after abetter-than-expected shot with my weaker right foot forced Di Maltato make a good save and mostly lamenting the fact that adrenalinecould not carry me past the lethal combination of nerves and a lackof fitness as I'd hoped.
That said ... I have to thank Reyna, Berhalter and Altidore fortrying to bring me into the game by repeatedly sending the ball myway.
I likewise have to argue that the free header I choked was not aseasy as the media is making it out to be. I haven't seen the replayyet -- so I'm not totally sure I've got it right when I say it wasReyna who crossed the ball perfectly into the penalty area andlanded it right on my considerable dome -- but don't forget thatthe goals we were using are not regulation-sized and don't offermuch to aim at.
Or the fact that I've always been hopeless in the air and alwayswill be.
As I've already shared with TrueHoop, Nash is vowing to bring mymiss up every time I see him from now on. He also helpfullyexplained how he knew the header had no chance once he saw that Iwas trying to glance it into the far corner instead of trying tohead it low behind the keeper.
"Too much sweat on your face," Nash said. "It just skidded rightoff."
Cheers.
Truth is, though, that I will eventually learn to live with mychoke because it was a header. A headed goal, easy or not, wouldhave been a miracle on par with the fact that apparently none ofthe fence- and tree-climbing fans got hurt and that there was noserious crowd trouble with so many people (and so few policeofficers and security types) in such a small area.
Had I missed a sitter the usual way, with my trusty left foot, I'dhave been filing this story from therapy.
In short, I can only repeat what I've been saying since Wednesday.Just being out there was a Luckiest Man On The Face Of The Earthexperience.
Or as ESPN.com editor extraordinaire Matty Wong relayed to melater: "From where I was standing, you definitely got the most 'Iwish I was that guy' comments."
The best journalist on the pitch: It was always going to be the great Simone Sandri, who playedprofessionally for two clubs in his native Italy before becoming anNBA expert. But he deserves special mention not only for hisefficient play in midfield -- and losing out on what looked to be acertain goal in the second half when he was curiously ruled offsidein a game that was being played with no offside rule -- but for hiswork in putting this match together with Nash.
You should have seen Sandri at the NBA Finals, cornering anyone hesaw from the football world to invite them to participate. Thatincludes my man Avram Grant, formerly Kalou's manager at Chelsea,as well as Darren Bent from Nash's beloved Tottenham, when Bentunexpectedly showed up in L.A. to do some TV work at the Finals forChannel 5 in England.
The goals: My biggest regret -- besides the header I'll never live down andthe fact that I probably should have considered trying to get inpassable shape before this extravaganza -- is that I didn't take better notes.
But I can't lie. I was enjoying it all too much to do muchreporting. I suppose I could have tapped some observations into myBlackBerry during my time on the bench in the first half, but itwas far more enticing to sit with the injured Juan Pablo Angel andpretend that we were just two strikers with the same gig, bothwaiting to be thrown in to change the game.
The good news is that so many reporters and bloggers were there tochronicle everything I've left out in what's already a way-too-longopus. The best roundup of the goals that I've seen can be found here .
The best goal: Nash. Last kick of the game. Figures.
Standing inside his own half, McManaman lobbed a long balldownfield that rose almost as high as a Ray Guy punt.
Nash chested it down with his back to goal, swiveled and volleyedit in with his left foot before the ball hit the ground.
Which reminds me again how laughable it is that Nash is oftenconsidered unathletic in NBA terms. Doesn't playing more than onesport at a ridiculously high level equate to a high degree ofathleticism?
The media: Links to more of the best match coverage of the event follow.First, from the blogosphere: This American Soccer Can't Stop the Bleeding SlamOnline
And from mainstream media: ESPN Soccernet MLS NYTimes
The video: There is lots of amateur footage on YouTube already, but here are two links to more traditional electronic coverage.
The charity: The post-match auction at the Replay store in SoHo raised roughly$20,000 for the respective foundations run by Nash and Reyna.
The future: Behind the scenes, Nash and Reyna are already talking about it.One example: Reyna immediately began dropping hints about luringHenry's Barcelona teammate Lionel Messi to next summer'sinstallment.
The guys know they could move their event into a proper stadium andattract a huge crowd. One more example: As soon as Vlade Divacheard about the game, he reached out to Nash to propose a Europeanversion at a major venue.
But Nash and Reyna are likewise tempted to keep it in theplayground to preserve an atmosphere that The Offside Rules blog so aptly described as a "FIFA Street [video game] come to life."
File that and any other challenge that came up in the staging ofThe Showdown In Chinatown in the Great Problem To Have Dept.
Marc Stein is senior NBA writer for ESPN.com. To e-mail him, click here .