Jimmy Gabriel: The Gift of Lift

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.

Within a minute or two, Jimmy went flying into a midfield tackle on the hard, unforgiving Kingdome turf. He got mostly ball, and he also got himself a rugburn and an obviously painful muscle pull. Might’ve been hamstring, maybe groin. Whatever it was, he was hurting. But he was running, he was contributing, and he wasn’t coming off. The tackle sent a message to all the other 25,000 players and fans in the Dome – and the kid watching faraway – that this fight was far from over.

Seven minutes into his shift, Jimmy headed a cross back across the crease for Davey Butler to score. A Paul Crossley penalty tied it, and with five minutes left Butler did it again, scoring the winner. The Sounders would go on to reach their first league final, and although Jimmy’s teams could be up and down, my belief in him never wavered.

That’s my Jimmy Gabriel story. I’ve listened to many more, although rarely from his lips.

The Obvious Leader

Bob Robertson, the original Voice of the Sounders, recalled how Jimmy might explain through his thick, Scottish brogue the use of physicality: “It’s a man’s game, is it not?”

FC Seattle owner Bud Greer credited Jimmy not only with the impetus for launching the team but later adding the nickname. “He said, ‘Look, we’re seeing some pretty good players (and) it’s time we fielded a team of good American players. Interestingly enough, the Storm nickname was his. He had this fixation on naming teams after weather.” So, Jimmy’s only quarrel with our NWSL team might be that it’s not spelled Rain.

Coaching FC Seattle in 1986 (Frank MacDonald Collecction)

Dave Gillett and John Best were among those who noted his instant credibility and command of respect once Jimmy brought a player to the Sounders. “He’s obviously a leader,” said Best. Added Gillett: “Players like me really looked up to him…you just learned the game from him.”

Jimmy McAlister played for Jimmy with the Sounders and San Jose, where his biggest feat may have been getting the notoriously troublesome yet immensely talented George Best to play 30 games after missing a combined 17 the previous two years.

Jimmy Gabriel resigned from that job. He did the same with the Sounders and FC Seattle. Never fired, he had the strength and conviction of character to know when either he needed a change of scenery, or the club did. One of his greatest gifts was working with young, emerging talent. He could tailor his message to motivate American kids, as opposed to a less gentle approach to British kids. He could lift the level of those players because he truly believed in them, often times more than they believed in themselves.

‘Are you kidding, in a reserve game?’

His commitment to the team was never in question. McAlister told the story of Jimmy, at age 40, playing in a reserve game with the younger players. “He broke his nose and had to have it strapped to his face for the rest of the game,” recalled McAlister. “People in the stands are going, ‘Are you kidding me, he’s doing this in a reserve game?’”

McAlister played in that ’77 Portland game and could immediately see Jimmy was injured. “On the field he was as animalistic as anyone, but he was also very intelligent. Most guys who get stuck in, like the goon on a hockey team, there’s not a lot going on with them. Jimmy was different from them.” Which takes us back to that night in 1977.

I’ve talked to Jimmy about that game several times. His memory of it remained sharp. “I knew that if I could get out there and show them we needed more effort, more energy; if we did that, we would get the crowd behind us, even though we might not win the game.

Jimmy Gabriel working with Tony Chursky in training (Frank MacDonald Collection)

“I told myself I had to stay on,” he continued. “Then I got in a few tackles and a few things happened. The kids and the new players got a bit lifted, and they started to play better.”

The Greatest Guy

“He’s probably the greatest guy I was ever around, for feeling confident and good about yourself,” said McAlister. “Jimmy was the best coach in terms of motivating players and you wanting to play for your coach. He’s just a great human being. He cares about everything.”

In some ways, Jimmy Gabriel was a man of the times, in terms of his courageous play. But he may have been ahead of his time as a coach. His caring, sympathetic and rejuvenating ways play much like Pete Carroll’s.

It’s a man’s game, yet Jimmy appeals to your heart, and when players exhibit heart, everything gets lifted. The challenge to all of us who knew Jimmy or knew stories of Jimmy, is to find new and different ways to lift others up, to make them their best.

What’s your Jimmy Gabriel story?

Note: Jimmy Gabriel died July 10, 2021 at the age of 80. Gabriel came to Seattle in 1974 already a legend at Everton, where he won league and FA Cup winners’ medals. He served as captain, assistant coach and head coach of the NASL Sounders. In 1983 he became Washington Youth Soccer’s first coaching director. From 1984-86 Gabriel was coaching director and head coach of FC Seattle. After returning to Seattle in 1997 he was an assistant to both the University of Washington men’s and women’s programs. During the first few seasons of Sounders FC, Gabriel was a member of the radio broadcast team.

Timing Is Everything

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.

Hank Steinbrecher, the U.S. Soccer secretary-general, was on hand in the Kingdome press box. Witnessing not only the numbers but the noise and knowledge of the throng, Steinbrecher told reporters that Seattle must submit a bid; it’s too great of a soccer city to be sitting on the sidelines. By the following week a committee formed, the state youth association fronted operating funds and despite some pushback from leadership of the budding A-League Sounders, the business of building a bid plowed forward.

Nearly 1,500 families purchased season-ticket deposits as a show of faith. Locations for potential stadiums were visited and scrutinized as were stop-gap solutions, where a Seattle team might play for the first few seasons. Rothenberg was asked if the MLS Seattle bid committee and Sounders could join forces, creating a united front and combining season ticket sales/deposits. Could these born-again Sounders be granted promotion into MLS in two years? Rothenberg’s reply: No and no.

And so, by June 15 any high hopes for Seattle becoming a charter city in MLS were waning. Rothenberg had named his seven names and, barring some breakthrough with either an owner or venue in the next few months, this bid was DOA.

But Then This Happened

But  then Rothenberg suddenly placed his hand over the mic. He paused to confer with an aide and removed a folded page from the inner breast pocket of his navy blazer. Rothenberg glanced at the paper, nodded to the aide and turned back to the mic.

“I apologize; I misspoke,” he explained. “I meant to say New Jersey slash New York (or New York/New Jersey); it’s all one market. And our seventh city, giving us regional representation to the entire Pacific Northwest, America’s once and future great soccer city, Seattle is, in fact, our seventh charter team.”

It was a shocker, no matter the audience. Potential sponsors were wishing for another major market, such as Chicago, Philadelphia or Dallas (which nabbed a charter team in the second stage). But Rothenberg was advised that Seattle had no more obstacles than Columbus or other frontrunners. Besides, nationally televised soccer games always garnered high ratings in Seattle-Tacoma – and there was a track history of pro soccer support, with big crowds coming out for the NASL and now the national team. MLS would find a way to make Seattle work.

Lamar Hunt would operate the team, one of eventually four in his MLS portfolio. He would oversee Dallas and his sons would be hands-on with Columbus and Kansas City. Seattle would be managed by a Hunt-entrusted triumvirate of Al Miller, Bill Nuttall and John Best, the latter being the original NASL Sounders head coach and, later, general manager. Miller and Best had been together under Hunt at the Dallas Tornado. Nuttall was a former U.S. National Team GM. All were longtime friends and associates of Cliff McCrath, the MLS Seattle committee co-chair. Miller, incidentally, had recruited Sounders coach and president Alan Hinton from England to America when he coached the Tornado.

It’s All About the Fans

If its initial response to a bid had been relatively tepid, once MLS was a certainty, the soccer community was all-in. With TV advertisements running throughout the World Cup, season ticket deposits quickly tripled, then increased incrementally as the Sounders started A-League play, then surged to the top of the table and finally sold-out Memorial Stadium for the final regular season game. The MLS team’s business had barely plugged in a fax machine and already there were 6,500 commitments to watch a nameless team at a yet-to-be-determined location.

In its prime the Kingdome was an acceptable venue, but by 1995 both the Seahawks and Mariners were trying to leave it. (Frank MacDonald Collection)

Over the two years leading up to the start of MLS in Seattle, there was a great deal of volatility in the market. At the newly-renovated KeyArena, the Sonics were at the height of their popularity and averaging over 60 wins per season. Down south at the Kingdome, its two tenants were troubled. In 1995, the Mariners were finally proving competitive yet there was the threat of them leaving town. After the Kingdome’s ceiling tiles began dropping, prompting the cancellation or relocation of both Sounders and Mariners games, Seahawks owner Ken Behring demanded a new stadium. When rebuffed, in early 1996 the team’s headquarters was moved to Anaheim.

As stated in the original bid package, there were multiple options for playing soccer around Puget Sound, none of them good. With two tenants already, the Kingdome was too crowded, not to mention in need of repair. The Tacoma Dome accommodated 20,000 seats and a full, FIFA-regulation field but located 30 miles south of Seattle. The University of Washington was already averse to hosting the World Cup at Husky Stadium. Hinton’s Sounders started their first season at the Tacoma Dome, then settled at Memorial, which was increasingly showing its age (49, by 1996). A proposed soccer-specific stadium in Kent was an option, but no sooner than the end of the decade.

Portable seating was added, much like here in 1974, to boost Memorial Stadium capacity to 18,000. (Frank MacDonald Collection)

Whereas most other MLS teams elected to play in big stadiums with greater than 50,000 capacity, Seattle leaders favored the intimacy of Memorial, augmented by investment in new bleachers and additional portable seating. Much like the original Sounders, capacity would reach 18,000 and a new artificial carpet installed, albeit only 60 (crowned) yards wide.

Branding Arrives with Thud

John Best believed the franchise would benefit from using the Sounders nickname, but once again MLS nixed it. As in the other former NASL markets, this was a new age, a new league and a fresh start was sought. Seattle’s newest team, said the league, would be known as the Voyage. Singular, cold, no alliteration and, like most of the other charter team nicknames, almost no clear association with its location. Although the vibrant green zig-zag jerseys would turn some heads (and cause static TV screens), the Seattle Voyage brand was met with a collective shrug.

A crude, early concept of Nike’s Seattle Voyage jersey for the inaugural season. (Frank MacDonald Collection)

The Sounders, meanwhile, won the 1995 A-League championship with a roster stocked predominantly with homegrown players. At first majority owner Scott Oki and Hinton were determined to march forward, going head-to-head with the MLS entity. However, dwindling crowds, expiring player and stadium contracts eroded their ability to leverage. When Best and Miller offered the Voyage head coaching role to Hinton several days after his team lifted the trophy, the Sounders’ fate was sealed.

In the allocation of MLS-signed foreign talent and U.S. National Team members, Hinton swooped for two of his former players at the Tacoma Stars, Preki and Roy Wegerle. He also targeted signing Everett’s returning son, Chris Henderson and young Vancouver super striker Domenic Mobilio. He drafted or bought-out the contracts of 10 Sounders, including A-League MVP Peter Hattrup and goalkeeper of the year Marcus Hahnemann. Hinton reasoned that playing at home, before family and friends, local lads could strengthen the connection with fans and instantly create a continuity no other team could claim.

It may not have been much in the way of a marquee-name squad, but they played as one and, bolstered by international acquisitions from the league, Seattle Voyage finished runner-up to Tampa Bay during the inaugural regular season before being eliminated by LA in the semifinals.

Alan Hinton tapped to becomeSeattle’s first MLS head coach. (Frank MacDonald Collection)

Attendance, while limited by capacity, was impressive at just under 18,000. Season-ticket renewals for 1997 ran about 75 percent. However, walk-ups and continued on-field success helped bridge the gap. While Seattle crowds dipped, it was far less than the league average slide of 2,800 in the second season.

A Place to Call Home

Of greater consequence than any given match in 1997 was Seattle’s future in the game. Memorial Stadium lacked the magical atmosphere of the Sounders’ Camelot era, when fans and players held fewer or more modest expectations. It was cramped, just as much for players as crowds.

Construction had begun on a new Mariners stadium, and prospective Seahawks owner/savior Paul Allen was proposing that the Kingdome be demolished, and a football shrine erected in its place. When polling indicated the statewide proposition was in jeopardy, Hunt got on board, insisting this would also become the new home of MLS. Thanks to the soccer vote the measure passed, barely.

Midway through 2002, the Voyage moved from Memorial to Seahawks Stadium, and it came none too soon. The team remained competitive (after all eight teams always made the playoffs), but had the stadium dilemma remained, Seattle might have been one of the two contracted teams, instead of Tampa Bay or Miami. Hinton was retired, as were most of the players he brought with him. With forgettable player names and few staying for more than a couple seasons, the bloom of MLS had withered.

attendance to near 20,000, with nearly 30,000 for the inaugural match. Preki, at age 40, benefitted from greater operating room, and Henderson still exhibited the engine of a player 10 years younger. The one true drawback: Allen decided that instead of grass, the stadium playing floor would be artificial.

Hunt began listening to offers for two of his MLS holdings, including Seattle. The threatened exodus of both the Mariners and Seahawks had made fans of teams wary of out-of-state owners. Allen, more focused on reshaping the Seahawks’ image, wasn’t interested. Among locals, most were only open to becoming a partner. Investment groups began bargaining with Hunt. In 2005 he sold the Voyage to a group of California investors for $11M, just above the Salt Lake and Toronto’s expansion fees.

How to Bring Back the Buzz

Crowd support, once the new stadium buzz subsided, leveled off around 17,000, still respectable and among the MLS top five. The crowds, which were largely families in the first seven seasons, were morphing, with more millennials. A drum-banging bunch began growing in the southeast corner. Although Seattle continued to make the playoffs year after year, there were no trophies and there’s a sense of general impatience with the bland (they were now wearing all-white home kit with green trim) brand that was the Voyage.

In 2005, owners of the USL Tacoma Tugs, used their connections to bring Real Madrid to Qwest Field, to play the Voyage in a friendly. It was the first major international tour to stop (Manchester United opted for Vancouver in 2003), and the turnout of 55,000 indicated there was an untapped audience that didn’t fancy MLS.

Tod Leiweke

One of the Tacoma owners, Adrian Hanauer, initiated conversations with Seahawks president Tod Leiweke and VP Gary Wright. All three shared a passion for soccer and a vision for what pro soccer could once again become in Puget Sound. The Voyage ownership group wasn’t interested in advice on the business front. They reminded the community that fans should support their endeavor because ticket prices were reasonable, the team regularly qualified for the playoffs and would soon play in Superliga, the new competition featuring MLS versus LigaMX clubs. Furthermore, they were exploring the signing of a first Designated Player in 2008.

At that point, the Great Recession applied the brakes to all MLS expansion plans. Hollywood exec Joe Roth’s proposed Vancouver start date was pushed back to no sooner than 2012. Voyage owners wanted out; their investment portfolio had cratered. Hanauer cobbled together a group to buy a majority stake for $16M. Among the partners was Paul Allen’s Vulcan Sports, which would now manage the business side. They soon recommended a rebrand. The Californians had rejected such suggestions and the Sounders name in particular, claiming that brand was ancient history and would no longer resonate with fans who were in their youth back in the NASL and A-League days.

Yet in 2009, the Voyage came to an end; the Sounders re-emerged. Hanauer was unsuccessful in prying Sigi Schmid loose from Columbus, but he hired Paul Mariner and convinced him to bring aboard Brian Schmetzer, the Tacoma coach, as the top assistant and Chris Henderson as technical director. Local hero Kasey Keller, after solid career in Europe, was signed to a two-year deal. Leiweke claimed it all to be a reboot, an unshackling from MLS 1.0. There was now a vision of reaching the crowd levels of the NASL days and a more vibrant, loud stadium atmosphere.

The reborn Sounders did not make the 2010 playoffs, yet led the league attendance at just over 23,000. It had taken 14 years, an ownership change, a new vision, but Seattle and MLS – now with David Beckham added – seemed to start the new decade on an ambitious trajectory. Once Roth’s Vancouver comes online, Cascadia might produce a combustible rivalry, one that Portland might someday join. Practically everything was falling into place: local ownership, front office expertise, a likeable brand, a major-league stadium and the prospect of local rivalries.

If only all that had been the case in 1996. Timing, it proved, can be everything.

Rowlands Stood Tall, Always Will

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.

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A Long Overdue Ode to Billy McGrath

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.

Why Play on Easter?

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Never, Ever, Give Up

Forever they will be known as the guys who refused to give up. They easily could’ve quit, well before even reaching the 1993 NCAA Championship game.

Instead they stood strong, stood together and, ultimately, prevailed.

For the record, Seattle Pacific’s fifth national title was won in workmanlike fashion against reigning champion Southern Connecticut. But that match was anticlimactic in comparison to the epic semifinal two days earlier.

(Joanie Komura photo/Frank MacDonald Collection)

Seattle Pacific and top-ranked and undefeated Florida Tech played a game for the ages. The sleepy Space Coast city of Melbourne, Florida was forced to stay awake well past midnight to learn the outcome of the 4 hour, 7 minute marathon.

FIT followers firmly believed the Falcons had been put to bed early after the Panthers pulled ahead by two goals, 5-3, in overtime. But SPU refused to surrender, and went forward in numbers as All-America sweeper James Dunn pulled-on the keeper shirt to become an 11th attacker.

Travis Connell’s header closed the gap to 5-4 with 62 seconds left. Then in the dying moments a loose ball fell fortuitously to the feet of record-setting scorer Jason Dunn, James’s identical twin. From the right flank Dunn uncorked a low 25-yard drive which caromed into the net off a lunging defender – just as the clock expired.

The two teams played another 30 minutes of sudden-death overtime before finally settling matters in a gut-wrenching, 13-round penalty-kick shootout. James Dunn, still in goal, made two saves, Jason converted two kicks, and SPU won the tiebreaker, 10-9.

Although physically (an injured James Dunn was unable to play) and emotionally spent, some 44 hours later Seattle Pacific parlayed an early goal by Dominic Dickerson and clutch goalkeeping All-American Marcus Hahnemann (served red card suspension in semi) into a 1-0 result against Southern Connecticut.

During that off day, in between the semifinal and final, Jason Dunn was asked about those dying seconds of the overtime, when all hope seemed lost. Immediately after the goal was scored, Dunn whirled and ran, screaming, past the celebrating SPU bench. What was his cry? “That’s why you never give up!”

Thanks for reading along. If you enjoyed this content, perhaps you will consider supporting initiatives to bring more of our state’s soccer history to life by donating to Washington State Legends of Soccer, a 501(c)(3) organization dedicated to celebrating Washington’s soccer past and preserving its future.

All Salaries Aside

Professional sports is generally depicted as glamorous, a high life where players mix with other celebrities, relax at exotic and exclusive destinations and, all and all, lead a jet-set existence.

Truth be told, the majority of those being paid to perform in the athletic arena are relatively simple folk who face many of the same struggles of the common human. And while the rock star may flash a Rolex and rumble off in a Lamborghini, the stories told by the rank and file are interesting in their own right and, without question, more relatable.

Take the fishing story of Roger Levesque. Our smiling, swashbuckling former Sounder forward is well-known for his pirate face and his scuba celebration. But how many know that Levesque made his pro soccer life possible by fishing the open sea?

For over 12 years, Levesque held a commercial fishing license, working out of ports such as Astoria, Westport and Bellingham. Out into the Pacific they’d sail in search of sablefish, a.k.a. black cod. When the USL Sounders season ended, he would go out to sea where the catch enabled him to make ends meet.

“I couldn’t buy a house or condo, and it was a huge investment at the time,” explains Levesque, who took out a line of credit to pay $90,000 for the license in 2006. “It helped bridge the gap.”

Thar he goes: Roger Levesque , commercial fisherman. During his USL and post-MLS days, he supplemented his income by catching black cod, a.k.a. sablefish, off the Washington and Oregon coasts. (Courtesy Roger Levesque)

Stormy Weather

In October, the weather can contribute to rough seas, and Levesque and the crew would usually stay out 2-3 days until they reached their limit. At times, it could take a week. They might sleep for a couple hours as the lines soaked, but it could be 36 straight hours of demanding and sometimes dangerous work.

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How Legends Are Made

There was not only a new head coach and GM but also literally a ton of new players. And if Zach Scott thought he was the only substitute schoolteacher among the lot of 2002 Sounders, the know-it-all student in the front row would soon inform him. There was at least three.

However, Scott was probably the only player/teacher whose Sounders career began by commuting 4-5 hours each way and who not only graduated from college but got married within the first two months.

“I flew back to Maui for three days, we got married, and then,” recalls Scott, “I flew back because we had a game that weekend.” All that and no pay.

Having made Brian Schmetzer’s squad through a tryout, the rookie from Gonzaga signed for the minimum. “We were getting $250 per game, if you made it onto the field,” Scott confirms.

But in the first match following his nuptials, a one-sided win over Hampton Roads, he never got off the bench.

Zach Scott progressed from first-year trialist to legend status after 15 seasons.

Those final years prior to Seattle joining MLS are remembered for their four trophies and two extended runs and upsets in the Open Cup.  Yet as that A-League and USL era fades in the rearview mirror, some may not comprehend just how lean was the Sounders’ payroll.

Reminder: It’s A Business

It should be noted that it’s unlikely Seattle would’ve scored an MLS franchise, at least in 2007, had that USL club not existed. And it only existed because Adrian Hanauer and fellow investors kept it afloat by running a tight ship. Three pro soccer franchises in Seattle and Tacoma had drowned in red ink, and when Hanauer became the managing partner the club was coming off its worst finish for both attendance and league standing.

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Got Game, Will Travel

Sometimes following your dream means leaving town, again and again. For a couple of Seattle native sons, they started at home and finished here. But in between they moved around a lot.

Chance Fry and Peter Hattrup both came out of local high schools in 1982, when the sun was still high in the sky for American soccer. It would go dark all too quickly.

That summer there were 28 teams, both outdoor and indoor, that were paying livable wages across the continent. Within two years, that number was cut in half, and when Fry and Hattrup reached their prime, pro soccer in this corner of the earth, after years of bleeding red ink, all but went black.

Hattrup refers to his peer group as The Lost Generation. They may have made some bucks, even gotten a taste of MLS or made a World Cup squad. Yet there’s long been a lingering question of what might’ve been.

If there was a silver lining, says Hattrup, the game was overflowing with players and coaches with an unquenchable thirst to find a game. Any game. “The great thing was you only had guys that loved to play,” he claims. “No one did it just for themselves, just for the money. They loved being part of the game.”

The Sounders drafted Chance Fry as a Sammamish High School senior and U.S. Youth National Team player.

An Auspicious Start

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Too Much Fun to Complain

One evening, not so long ago, Peter Fewing was dining out with friends when a tablemate mentioned that Fewing once played professional soccer. It made him giggle, just a little.

When Jeff Stock first signed with the original Seattle Sounders out of Tacoma’s Stadium High School, he wanted to maintain his amateur status and eligibility for the 1980 Olympic Games. Still, his earnings, when adjusted through an inflation calculator, were exponentially more than Fewing’s. In fact, in 2020 dollars it exceeds that of some top players for Reign FC today.

It’s madness, in many respects. But for those who have played at the top levels of American pro soccer the past 45 years, this hardly comes as a surprise. Any yet, none of the journeymen interviewed for this story have many complaints. In fact, all maintain they were enriched by the experience, intellectually if not financially.

“I was playing at the highest level of soccer in the country at the time,” notes Fewing, now 26 seasons into a career as Seattle University’s head coach. “It was fun, we had fans, we signed autographs, and we got two free beers and a burger at the postgame party. The sentiment was that we were having too much fun to complain.”

Craig Beeson, left, and Peter Fewing , center, celebrate an FC Seattle goal. (Joanie Komura photo/Frank MacDonald Collection)
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Land of Opportunity

It all began as a working vacation for David Gillett. In 1974, the 23-year-old Scotsman first stepped foot in Seattle, where pro soccer had never existed. He was coming to play central defense, but Gillett was soon all-in as a missionary for this emerging sport, conducting clinics and making plentiful promotional appearances.

Back in Britain, where he played for Crewe Alexandra, the job was pretty much two hours of daily training, with a match or two each week.

It had been much the same for Adrian Webster when playing for his hometown club of Colchester, in England. He moved to Vancouver to play semi-pro and then heard about the NASL coming both there and Seattle soon after.

“I was very fortunate that it was the Sounders and John Best and Jimmy Gabriel that I played under,” Webster offers. “Not all of the clubs in the NASL were run as professionally.” Soon Webster was starting on the backline with Gillett, and the city adored their new team and their tradition of applauding the fans each night from the center circle.

The original Seattle Sounders, pictured in 1974. Adrian Webster is front row, third from left; David Gillett is back row fourth from right. (Frank MacDonald Collection)
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Seattle's Soccer Nation: Past, Present & Future