Harkes Book Excerpt: ‘Not A Boy Scout’

In this excerpt from John Harkes’ new book, Captain for Life, we pick up in January 1998 with early confrontations between the captain and Coach Steve Sampson, who shook the U.S. soccer world by cutting Harkes in April. by John Harkes With Denise Kiernan Steve and I had a meeting soon after the team arrived in camp to talk about where the team stood, going into the final phase of preparation for the World Cup: players’ strengths and weaknesses, lineup options, etc. Looking at a diagram of the field, he asked me where I saw myself playing. He pointed toward the middle of the field, and I nodded in agreement. Then he said, “You could also play in back.” “Yeah, Steve, I guess I can play anywhere.” “But I see you … ” he said, followed by a dramatic “Steve” pause, “here or here,” and pointed to left midfield and center midfield. That was fine with me. He also asked if I would consider playing defensive midfield. I said, “Sure.” As I was getting ready to leave, Steve talked about how much we had been through together, and then added that Alan Rothenberg was not a big fan of either of us. I asked if it was because of the role I had played in the contract negotiations. Steve said he didn’t really know why, but that he had defended me. He made it sound like he wanted to protect me. He said we needed to stick together. During camp, it was clear that time off and new job security had not mellowed Steve. He continually put down MLS while he bent over backward for guys coming over from Europe. How could he take digs at the MLS, a league we all came back for and helped build? It was the league he had promoted, too, saying he wanted us here because he would have more access to his pool of players. When Steve sent Peter Vermes and Mike Sorber home from camp, he had a team administrator tell them, rather than telling them himself. He cut Mark Chung during practice one day without Mark knowing that the entire conversation was being taped for ESPN and would be aired nationally in June. At that point, I was edgy because I still wasn’t sure which MLS club I would be playing with in the coming season. Then, on January 7, I was told that Ron Atkinson, who was back managing at Sheffield, was interested in bringing me over. It sounded like a great opportunity, playing back in the Premier League, helping Sheffield avoid relegation, and getting sharp for the World Cup. But Sheffield wanted me on loan only, and the league wouldn’t hear of it. When the trade with New England didn’t go through either, I was happy to stay a member of D.C. United. I’d always liked United – that was never an issue – the players and the club, so it looked like things had worked out for the best and it was nice to know where my family and I were going to be. Our monthlong camp with the National Team finally came to an end, and we finished it off with a friendly against Sweden, which we won 1-0. February was the CONCACAF Gold Cup, our biggest tournament before the World Cup. Steve wanted us to play quicker than we needed to. The players knew that Cuba, for example, was not a strong side and thought that we should have slowed things down at times and not forced the play. You need to pick your spots. You don’t go 100 mph and wear out your team early on in a tournament if you don’t have to. But we couldn’t say anything. Things had to be done Steve’s way or else, he’d say, “You’ll be …there,” and motion toward the bench, making one of his many hand gestures. By the second week of February, the boys were starting to get tired, but somehow we managed to pull off one of the greatest upsets in U.S. soccer history: a 1-0 victory over Brazil in the L.A. Coliseum. The U.S. had never even tied Brazil, let alone beaten them. And the last three times we’d played them we’d lost 1-0-1996 in L.A., 1995 at Copa America, and 1994 during the World Cup. No one was expecting those results to be reversed that night. But once the game got started, we were right there with them. They had numerous chances to score in the first half, but we held on, and in the second half we started to create opportunities in their half of the field. Shortly after coming on as a sub in the second half, Preki scored the lone U.S. goal. It felt like we had won the World Cup. We knew if we could hold on to that lead we would be making history. And we did, thanks in large part to Kasey Keller – nothing got by him. The man was a wall. He frustrated the hell out of Romario, the Brazilian striker, who told the press after the game that it was the best performance he’d ever seen from a goalkeeper. There may have been only about 12,000 people on hand to see it, but everybody all over the world heard about it. It was a thrill and an honor to be on the field with my teammates for that once-in-a-lifetime experience. After coming off such a huge win, it was a big disappointment to lose the final to Mexico, a team we’d beaten in the past and had recently tied on their own turf. It was a significant accomplishment to be playing in the final of a tournament as important as the CONCACAF Gold Cup, in front of a full house, but the crowd was the worst I’ve ever experienced in the United States. They booed during the National Anthem, and yelled obscenities at our players. As an American soccer player, you’re often in a situation where you don’t have a “home” crowd for home games, but it doesn’t help when matches are scheduled against Mexico in L.A. Whether the Federation or CONCACAF is responsible, I don’t know, but we have to play a tournament final as the “visiting” team. It may not be unusual, but you never get used to it.

‘I was focused on the World Cup’

The press had been questioning Steve about who would play defensive midfield and, throughout the Gold Cup, Steve used me there. I never asked to play there, but was willing to do what was best for the team. For close to a year, I had spent most of my time playing left midfield. But when he needed to, Steve used me as a utility player, and told me he wanted me to play wherever I could to help the team. After the Gold Cup, Steve criticized me for being inconsistent. Maybe I didn’t play my best. But like all the veteran players, I was focused on the World Cup and hoped to be on form in June, not February. And if Steve didn’t think I was pulling my weight, he could have put me on the bench. Instead, I started every game of the tournament and the next two friendlies before the team’s first break in nearly two months. Following the Gold Cup, we flew to Miami, got off the plane, changed into our gear, and trained for an hour in preparation for our upcoming friendly against Holland. My ankle was sore, so I got an X-ray and discovered I had a bone chip floating around in there. During training the next day, Steve asked me if I was fit. If I wasn’t, he said he had other guys coming in for the game that he needed to look at. I waited to see what he’d say next. I was thinking, “If you want me to sit, tell me to sit.” But he could never come right out and tell me things. He told me there were three possible scenarios. One: I play left midfield. Two: I play central midfield. Three: I don’t play at all. I told him I wanted to play. Of course, as a player, you want to play every game. The day before the game, he put up the starting lineup before training and I wasn’t on it. Guys were asking me throughout training what was going on and I told them I didn’t know. Then Steve came walking over to me toward the end of training, as I was crossing balls to the strikers, and said, “You’re going to play left back for me tomorrow.” I had a ball at my feet, looked up for a minute, crossed it to one of the forwards and said, “Fine, Steve, whatever.” “You got a problem with that?” I said, “No,” but I knew then that he was looking to pick a fight. I told him I was confused because none of the scenarios he had presented to me included playing left back. Once again, he hadn’t come out and said what he was thinking. “Are you calling me a liar?” I stared at him then, and couldn’t believe he was getting so upset. “Slow down, Steve. That’s not what I said.” But I knew he wasn’t hearing me. We went back to the hotel for lunch, and on our way to the team meeting I pulled Steve aside and said, “Steve, I want to apologize for what happened out on the field.” “I accept your apology,” he said and, after a pause added, “But I’m still pissed off.” “Steve, you know I never meant to piss you off. We got our lines crossed. You know I’ll play anywhere for the team.” “It’s good to hear that,” he said. And we continued on to the meeting.

‘I was trying to improve morale’

Eddie Pope was injured so I played in back against Holland, and we lost 2-0. I played OK considering we were playing a team as good as Holland; a lot of guys had been moved around and the whole team was starting to get tired from all the games and travel. Actually, I consider my versatility to be one of my strengths, but it’s difficult for any player to step into a new position and play well, especially against a team that would go on to the semifinals of the 1998 World Cup. We left the night of the Holland match for a friendly against Belgium in Brussels and I said goodbye to Cindi, who had come down to the game to see me off. I knew being on her own for nearly two months with two small children was tough and I told her to hang in there. As players, we were physically and mentally exhausted. We had played many international games in a short period of time, traveling from coast to coast and now across the Atlantic. We missed our families and had eaten too much hotel food. No one felt they knew where they stood with Steve and communication was nonexistent. I tried to relay to Steve whenever possible how the guys were feeling and that he should open up a bit. Steve was not a people person. He thought that more discipline and forced togetherness was the way to fix things, when in truth what was needed, in my view, was a short break to refresh ourselves. But I don’t think he appreciated that I was trying to improve morale. The day after we arrived, we traveled an hour and a half so that we could train at a Nike complex. Europe is six hours ahead, so training took place at what our bodies thought was around sunrise – after playing a full 90 minutes and traveling for eight hours the night before. I was rooming with Joe-Max Moore in Belgium, and it was his birthday. He was injured, we were all stressed, and it was two nights before the game. So a group of players decided to go out to celebrate Joe’s birthday. We had been through hell and needed a break, and it was the most relaxed we’d been in weeks. Unfortunately, Joe got sick, so Eric [Wynalda] and I took him back to the hotel fairly late, got him up to our room, and put him in bed. The rest of the crowd came in shortly after. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea, but the guys needed to get out and be together. We lost the Belgium game, 2-0. Belgium ran at us hard, but didn’t play particularly well. We had a lot of chances that we just didn’t put away. I played defensive midfield the entire game and if Steve wasn’t pleased with my performance against Holland or Belgium, he didn’t say anything to me. We weren’t happy with the result, but we were ecstatic to be going home. Steve never said a word to me about our night out, although I learned later that he did speak to both Eric and Joe-Max about it. A couple weeks after the Belgium match, Steve was on his way to Germany to watch the German National Team play Brazil. Steve had stated to the press that he would be naming at least 10 players to the World Cup squad within the next few weeks and was in the process of meeting with all regular members of the National Team player pool to let them know where they stood. I was expecting to be named as one of those ten. On his way to Germany he stopped to meet with the players based in D.C. He rented a conference room in a hotel about 10 minutes from United’s training ground. When I arrived for my meeting, he was very cold. He poured me a glass of water and sat down. “Well I’ll come straight to the point. I’m not sure about taking you to the World Cup. Well, let’s backtrack. I’m not taking you to Austria.” I waited for the punch line. A chuckle. Anything.

‘Can I say something now?’

But I could see that Steve wasn’t kidding and that he was really angry, so I decided the best thing was to give him the floor and let him vent. “For months it’s been one thing after another with you,” he said. “And now I find out about this Belgium thing.” He started to go into great detail about a conversation he had had with a security guard at our hotel in Belgium. I let him keep going. “As captain, you should have walked away from that situation.” I waited for what was coming next. “Then there’s the Holland situation … ” he said. I thought we had settled that. It took everything I had not to lash out, but I knew that would be a mistake. I didn’t know how long I could hold on. “You missed flights with Eric and Roy, and you and Roy missed the bus to the airport in Mexico City.” Steve knew what had happened in both those instances, but I still said nothing. “You’ve got to be the first in meetings, the first on the bus. Not the last. You’re setting bad examples. I need you to change.” Finally, he seemed to be taking a breath. “Can I say something now?” I asked. And I tried to give my explanations as calmly as possible. I explained that, as far as Belgium was concerned, no harm had been done. I didn’t understand why he hadn’t said anything sooner, especially since he had spoken to Eric and Joe-Max two weeks earlier If anything, that night out brought us together. Guys were so depressed by that point that, if anything, it helped us unwind and prepare for the game. I thought it was better to help out, not walk away. Steve had blown things out of proportion – although I didn’t tell him that – and it showed that he had little feel for team chemistry. But I apologized for the night out, and added that it was no reason to keep me off the Austria trip. In response to our confrontation before the Holland game, I told him, “I already apologized to you for that, Steve. But you said I called you a liar. I did not.” I moved on to the next topic, and said that although Eric and I took a later flight one morning after a match, we did so because we didn’t have training that day. Roy and I didn’t miss a flight, we missed a connection in Dallas because of a time change. We were sitting across from our gate eating in TGIFridays when the plane took off. Stupid, sure, but not blatant disrespect for anyone’s schedule. It’s not like we wanted to sit in the airport for another three hours, and we didn’t miss any training. But when I thought about the flights, the bus, and the night out, and thought of all the other people involved, what I really wanted to say was, “OK, now there’s a double standard?” But I wasn’t about to raise that issue. What really got me were Steve’s comments about my setting bad examples. I played in 13 out of 16 qualifiers and finished qualifying with the most assists on the team. Setting a good example as captain is not making sure you’re first into a room for a meeting. A captain is a guy who puts his heart out on the field for the team, no matter what. A captain pushes himself and will lift up a guy when he’s down. He’s not a Boy Scout and he’s not a coach’s mouthpiece, because then his teammates lose respect for him. “Steve, I’m sorry if maybe I didn’t handle things in the best way at all times. We were under a lot of pressure, both of us, especially during qualifying. But I don’t think it’s a reason to leave me off the team. I have changed and I hope you’ll give me the chance to prove that.” “I can see that you’ve changed. It shows in your play. D.C. is reaping the benefits of you as a player right now. But this is what I’m planning to do.” At that point, Steve was calmer, but he still wasn’t finished. “This decision hasn’t been easy,” Steve said. “One day you’ll be sitting here making these decisions and I will support that.” I felt like he was waiting for me to respond, but I didn’t know what to say to that. He finished up by saying, “Let’s leave this for now.” He told me the door was open and that I should feel free to call him. (This was the last of SA’s two excerpts from the John Harkes’ autobiography, which also chronicles his breakthrough in the English League, his two World Cups, and his final controversial encounter with Steve Sampson.) Captain for Life and Other Temporary Assignments. By John Harkes with Denise Kiernan. Casebound. 260 pages. $24. Sleeping Bear Press (1-800-487-2323).