| | April Heinrichs was doubtless thrilled to learn that she had been
hired to be the new coach of the U.S. women's soccer team.
Then again, after a few months in the job, she might be more
interested in second prize -- a cable bill two months overdue, tied to a
spear and thrown through her calf.
|  | | April Heinrichs inherits a great job at a tricky time. |
Heinrichs, the 35-year-old coach at the University of Virginia and one
of the early stars of the sport in the U.S., was stamped, certified and
praised by the official American soccer hierarchy Sunday (and formally christened on Tuesday), which in many
soccer circles is the equivalent of a 10-day suspension.
Has she earned the promotion? Sure. Why not? Has she earned the grief
that is going to come with it. No, not by a long shot. Could she be in a
worse position to begin her fab new gig? Yes, but it would require a bear
cave, a whistle, and a hat made of honey.
Then again, as that well-known Confucian philosopher Super Chicken
once said, "You knew the job was dangerous when you took it, Fred."
Heinrichs was named after the greatest moment in U.S. women's soccer
history, and after about six more of the worst.
First, the up side. She inherits the defending World Cup championship
side, which sure beats juggling plutonium balls for a living.
But now, the down. And you may want to sit down for this.
1. She replaces the popular and successful Tony DiCicco, who quit the job
"to spend more time with my family," which meant that he couldn't stomach
any more meddling and low-balling from the U.S. Soccer masterminds.
2. She inherits a messy labor situation, in which the women who won the
World Cup and made pots of money for the sport ran into the traditional
response to requests for raises -- "Maybe when Boris Yeltsin sobers up."
3. She got the job instead of the more popular choice, Lauren Gregg, which
means that every move she makes will be compared to Gregg's invisible hand,
and as we all know from our reading, there is no less successful coach than
one who is compared to a spectre.
4. She is the choice of the less popular U.S. Soccer officials, of whom the
nicest thing that can be said is that most Americans don't know who they
are. The worst thing that can be said is, those Americans who do know who
they are, aren't impressed.
5. She has nowhere to go but sideways.
Phil Bengtson ran into the impossible-standards problem trying to
replace Vince Lombardi in Green Bay. Kid Gleason ran into the
dissatisfied-players theory with the Black Sox. Lots of coaches have been
hired by unpopular owners/general managers/athletic directors, often
instead of more popular choices.
| |
“ |
Then again, as that well-known Confucian philosopher Super Chicken
once said, 'You knew the job was dangerous when you took it, Fred.'
” |
Bengtson failed spectacularly. Gleason succeeded until his boys
decided to start losing instead. Most unpopular coaching choices failed,
and quickly, because if you're looking hard enough for reasons to dislike a
coach, you will almost certainly find them in time.
All this lands on the underprotected head of April Heinrichs, whose
principal crimes coming into the job seem to be not being either DiCicco or
Gregg, and not being able to promise the players the raises they so clearly
deserve. These are tough things to overcome, at least not without thousands
of dollars of expensive surgery and a history of Lotto victories.
A lesser person would have seen these pitfalls and decided to take a
pass on the whole gruesome mess. Heinrichs, on the other hand, realizes
that you only get to say no once, and the only thing worse than being asked
to reinvent the wheel is watching someone else be asked.
Besides, she surely figures, "I have the best players in the world,
the most developed program, and I can buffalo my way through the rest."
She surely figures this because every male coach ever confronted with a
similar situation thought exactly the same way.
Coaching, you see, isn't a gender-specific thought process. They all
think they're the smartest people on earth, they all know that any problem
can be overcome, and they all are sure than even the most stubborn player
can be won over with a little carrot and a little stick.
In other words, April Heinrichs actually did know, as did Fred, that
job was dangerous when she took it, and she took it fully expecting to
triumph, even in the face of such a litany of annoyances.
Her confidence is admirable. Of course, if you see her one day at
practice walking with a limp, you'll know that either some officious U.S.
Soccer functionary just ruined her day, or the cable bill just arrived.
Ray Ratto of the San Francisco Examiner is a regular contributor to ESPN.com. | |
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