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With the World Cup in Russia rapidly approaching, my mind wanders back to the summer of 2002 when the original Ronaldo and Brazil became kings of the world. At the same time, a small island in the Florida Keys was also gripped in World Cup fever.
I was a professional soccer player for twelve years in the United States and it seems like a lifetime ago. After retiring in 1996 and bouncing around doing various coaching and officiating soccer duties, I decided to move in 2002 from my hometown of Milwaukee, Wisconsin to sunny Key West, Florida. I worked several part time jobs. The one as sports writer for the local paper as well as a wave runner tour guide were among my favorites. There was always something missing though and I knew what it was: soccer.
The tiny island had no competitive teams for me to watch or coach. There was only one field and I would drive by it on my moped some nights and see adult foreigners kicking the ball around. I began to notice that every night had a different nationality playing the beautiful game. Monday was the Czechs, Tuesday the Haitians, Wednesday the Argentine contingent and Thursday the British lads. Ideas started swirling in my head as I thought that perhaps I could organize these players and form an adult league.
My first move would be to show up to one of their pick-up games and jump in and play. I gained instant credibility with my slick moves and goalscoring ability. Only one of the players from the Czech Republic spoke English and I approached him and he was very receptive as he translated my thoughts to the other players. This went on for a week straight as I played with everyone from the Central Americans to the U.S. Coast Guard. 
It was time for me to get organized and put my master plan into effect.
I had officiated professional and college games so I would referee all the matches and I decided to call it the K-League. A small problem facing me was that there were no other officials on the island that could handle the intensity of games at this level. You need three referees for a soccer game but I took it upon myself to do all three jobs single handedly. 
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We had eight teams signed up and every Sunday we would play four one hour games and each squad was given a list of rules and a schedule. The players wanted the games to take place at night under the lights when the weather was cooler because it was summer and the heat was brutal during the day. I said absolutely not, we will start the games at noon as only the strong survive in the K-League. I acted like a big new league had come to town but if only the players knew that the whole thing consisted of me, my briefcase, cellphone and whistle.
The first two weeks were going well and I really didn’t know how I was able to run four straight hours and I can only surmise that it was pure passion for the sport and mind over matter. Only a few family members of the players showed up at the beginning. In week four, the Haitians hotly contested a penalty kick I had called against them and walked off the field. The other team was awarded a 3-0 victory. I didn’t say a word nor did I call the Haitians during the upcoming week but there would be definite consequences for their actions. When they showed up to play their next game, I informed them that their team had been kicked out of the league. The death penalty! They decided to protest by sitting on the field, basically saying that if they couldn’t play, no one could play. I would have none of that and picked up my cellphone and within five minutes the police had arrived and I explained what was going on. I then calmly informed the sitting players that if they didn’t leave “Mr. policeman is going to run all your names for outstanding warrants.”
It was the fastest I had ever seen them move on the soccer field. The schedule would be rearranged and we would continue without them.
The crowds were getting bigger each week with the scores and standings being listed on a daily basis in the sports section of the Key West Citizen newspaper. The players started taking things very seriously and each team had bought sharp looking World Cup national team jerseys of their respective countries. In what seemed like the blink of an eye, the championship game was ready to be played. It would pit the Czech Republic against Argentina with the winner receiving a trophy, championship t-shirts and bragging rights for the Florida Keys. A boisterous gathering of two thousand people had encircled the field and were waving flags and blowing horns a full hour before the game. Even the Haitians had been coming to watch the games and were regretful for their behavior. The police were also there, not because they sensed trouble, they simply loved soccer too.
Right before kickoff, I tried my hardest to keep a stiff upper lip but I couldn’t stop the tears from running down my face. I had accomplished my mission as I had provided the players an outlet for joy through soccer and had given the families something to cheer for and be passionate about. All the games had been one hour up to that point, but at the opening coin toss both teams wanted to play two forty-five minute halves as they felt compelled to put on a show for the fans. My heart swelled with pride at that respectful sentiment.
The game went to overtime and the Golden Goal rule would be in effect, which meant whichever team scored first would win. Five minutes into the overtime Argentina scored and their fans stormed the field and mobbed the players as the singing and jumping up and down started. I couldn’t control my emotions and I began crying again as I presented the trophy and watched them get their picture taken for the local newspaper.
Four months later, the soccer field was torn down and an elementary school was erected where the field of dreams once stood. I moved back to Milwaukee a few years after that. I still go down there on vacation sometimes and will run into some of the players at bars. When they tell me those times were some of the best of their lives, it always makes me feel very humble and happy at the same time.
For a magical ten week period, there was World Cup soccer fever in Key West. To this day, I get a lump in my throat when I recall how I was able to bring passion and inspiration to so many people. Some people say due to the commercialization of the sport that the romance of soccer is dead, but the story of the K-League is proof that it’s not.

Memories of starting a soccer league that brought a US community together

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Memories of starting a soccer league that brought a US community together