Still Kicking

"There's no jealousy between the players in any league," Hooker says. "I don't think players think of A League as a stepping-stone but as 'This is my career right now, and I need to do the best I can, and whatever happens after that happens.'"

On a recent afternoon in May, the Foxes open their home season against the Seattle Sounders, against whom they had lost in Seattle 2-1 on a penalty kick. The day is perfect. A few hours before the game, Foxes players look relaxed, hanging out and chatting outside the locker room or sitting on the bleachers. They even greet the visiting Sounders players like old chums when they get off the team bus.

By game time it's a different story. "This is it, fellows," Donaldson booms at them in the locker room. "This is what we've been working for. We have to get the first fucking one." He tells them to spread out the field and, when the chance to score arrives, to "crash the fucking box" in front of the other team's goal. "If somebody don't want to get into a fucking war, lemme know now. We'll change the lineup."

The players look focused and say little, and they go out and dominate the game's first twenty minutes. Seattle gets little offense going until it scores a goal off a free penalty kick. And then momentum shifts; Seattle scores again and enters the second half in comfortable control.

But newcomer Wolde Harris, a former Clemson University star, sparks a comeback. Weaving through Sounders with great artistry, he ties the game at the 73rd minute. And then, with less than a minute to go, the Foxes advance again--having already taken several more good shots at goal--and Harris finesses the ball past goalie Marcus Hahnemann. Harris tears his shirt off and charges madly around the field. Why did he tear off his shirt? "I had no clue," Harris says after the game, holding an ice pack behind his neck. "I've never done that before."

The crowd jams the fence between the seats and the field, hungry for autographs. "The Foxes showed they want to stay here," says David Castro, a youth-club coach in Arvada. "They could have easily packed up and left.