COLUMN: Soccer's chance has past

Jordan Smith, Commentary It sure seems like a nice idea. After all, many schools have constructed stadiums which hold a few thousand fans for their soccer teams. Columbia has just that type of facility in its Baker Field sports complex in Manhattan. The only problem in the scenario is the few thousand fans. College soccer, which has done virtually nothing to court fans in this country, is simply not going to draw crowds. General interest helps sustain student interest. Consider a Penn basketball or football game; in either case, students are in the minority. Like almost all college sports, soccer falls under the jurisdiction of the NCAA. The NCAA has its priorities; they are called basketball and football, even though, thanks to a highly successful Final Four program, soccer has turned a modest profit for the NCAA. What soccer gets in return is a lot of nothing. Consider the most basic matter, the rules of the game. The sport's world governing body, FIFA, has 17 of them. The NCAA, apparently not satisfied with those, made a 50-page booklet, which features such pearls of wisdom as Rule 4-15, Section 17. It explains that the team that has scored more goals "shall be the winner." More seriously, the NCAA's conception of soccer doesn't fit the rest of the world. Considering soccer is the most-played, most-watched game on earth, this is no small sin. Anywhere else, a team is limited to three substitutions in a match. Like baseball, a player gets one appearance per game -- once out of the contest, the player's game is over. The result is that soccer is a game played, until the last few minutes, by 11-man teams. That means stamina is a crucial factor. In the college game, a coach may substitute "up to 11 players," at any stoppage of play; that is, just about anybody at anytime he wants. Players can re-enter only once, the NCAA's one concession to rationality. Soccer is a 90-minute game divided into halves. There are no timeouts for a change of strategy or for a drink of water. The NCAA tries to hold to this standard -- except, of course, when the TV cameras are on, when timeouts are welcome, one per half. There aren't many games on TV, but the ones that are tend to be important. So when college soccer gets attention, it is in its goofiest form. College soccer had a chance to win fans beyond the friends and immediate family it is confined to now. For over a decade, from 1985 to 1995, there was no serious professional league in this country. That left the college game as the de facto source for live, competitive action. What a great time to build a little stadium and embrace the small, but existent, soccer community. But with a barely two-month (less in the Ivy League) season, most of which is made meaningless by year-ending conference, and national, tournaments, college soccer failed to enthrall. Penn, like so many other colleges, didn't care. Ten years ago, it had yet to get around to making a women's program and the men were languishing on the artificial turf of Franklin Field. More than just endangering the players' knees, the turf turns soccer into glorified pinball. So now, should Jeffrey Rhodes decide that a mini-stadium is the best way to give away a substantial amount of money, Penn will build "Rhodes Stadium." But it will be the definition of a luxury, a $225,000 gift that will be appreciated or recognized by almost no one.