Willy Roy believes there will come a day when the name Sting will jerk the emotions of Chicago with as much force as do the names Cubs, Bears, Hawks, Sox and Bulls, but he will not dispute the order of affection at present, even during those nights when his soccer team tempts more folks to the Stadium than do the Bulls.
“I am a realist. I am an optimist,” Roy said. “You can be both.”
Roy coaches soccer for pay, which in this country is an achievement of remarkable proportions. There are barely enough teams left to employ an only child, which is one way to cure nepotism.
“I wouldn’t be honest if I said I didn’t wish we were the first name on everybody’s lips,” Roy said. “But we aren’t. I do think we are a special story. With our competition, not just the Bulls and the Hawks but De Paul and Loyola, to do what we do, I would say we were a tremendous success.”
During Roy’s tenure as headmaster of the Sting, outdoor soccer has shrunk to near invisibility, and indoor soccer is a hybrid scorned by purists, otherwise known as immigrants.
Indoor soccer is pocket soccer, smaller, faster and warmer, and the only version of soccer Americans seem interested in supporting.
“People are always asking me why soccer is failing,” Roy said. “I wouldn’t say that a core of 10-to-15,000 people is failing.”
Official figures place Sting average attendance at 10,162, about twice as much as other soccer cities with similar competition, namely the Cosmos of New York and the Lazers of Los Angeles.
Why does soccer work here better than there?
“We sell a product that is exciting,” Roy said. “Even when we lose, it is a slugfest. I would rather lose 10-9, because at least you’ve learned how to score 9 goals. Nobody learns anything from losing 2-1.
“And I think we represent the population of Chicago better than any other sports team. We have Latins and Europeans and English, somebody everybody can identify with.”
And there is Roy himself, German at birth, American at heart.
“We should never forget we are blessed to live in this country,” Roy said. “Where else can you bitch at the President and get away with it? Do that to Chernenko and you spend six months in Siberia.”
Patriotism has nothing to do with Roy’s exceptional ability to find talent, it would seem, by turning over rocks, the cheaper the better.
“I don’t think life should be measured in monetary things,” Roy said.
Since the last indoor season, Roy has added 13 new faces to his roster of 22. Only Karl-Heinz Granitza and Pato Margetic are big-salaried players. The rest work for modest wages and, more remarkably, work well together.
At the halfway point of this season, the Sting is threatening to add an indoor title to its two outdoor, an unexpected development to everyone but Roy.
“I would never bet against Tom Flores or the Miami Dolphins,” Roy said. “There is a reason they are always on top.”
Translation: Never bet against the Sting or Roy himself. Or the future of soccer, no matter how desperate it would appear.
“I think soccer is exactly right for this time,” Roy said. “We’re on a health kick as a nation. Soccer is the best exercise for the cardiovascular system, you have fun doing it and it doesn’t cost much money.”
Roy is a persuasive man, with strong opinions about everything that has to do with sports in Chicago. “Why doesn’t Ditka throw the ball to Willie Gault more? When are we going to get a decent stadium in The City That Works?” he wondered. You hope he doesn’t resort to the tattered argument now two generations old: Wait until the kids grow up.
Of course, he does just that.
“Our base,” he said, “is the young people. We’re like McDonald’s. When they started, they didn’t try to get the steak-eater. They went for the kids. Look where they are now.”
Not the kids, McDonald’s.
When that argument was first used, today’s 30-year-olds were yesterday’s infant midfielders, and the evidence is that they couldn’t drag their folks to a game they weren’t playing in then nor are they showing up in enormous numbers now.
If every kid who ever stuck his legs through a pair of soccer shorts were now a paying spectator, there wouldn’t be enough room for them all, even if you counted every knee and divided by two.
“Our time will come,” Roy insisted. “I’m a positive guy. There are just too many kids, too many involved. All the signs are positive. Like the Olympics. They drew 1.4 million for soccer, more than all the other sports combined. That has to mean something.”
What it might mean is that soccer was the easiest ticket to get. It was played in the largest stadium and people shut out of things they really wanted to see would resort to watching soccer just to be part of the Olympics.
“We’re going to keep plugging away,” Roy said. “If you plug long enough, you fill some holes.”