The parents' bold attempt to oust a soccer coach is indicative of the high stakes in club soccer. Not surprisingly, the entire trend of club sports — now a national phenomenon — was born out of a lust to win.
In the late 1970s, parents and coaches across the country created "clubs" as an opportunity to get the upper hand. Most school sports last only two or three months, so parents created private clubs to train their kids year-round.
Arizona Action Photos
At the Sereno Pro Classic Tournament in October in Phoenix.
Arizona Action Photos
At the Sereno Pro Classic Tournament in October in Phoenix.
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When club players showed up for school sports, they dominated the players who trained for only a few weeks. Other parents saw the skill of club players and quickly enrolled their kids in clubs, too. By the mid-1990s, the best high school athletes in nearly every sport played club.
Now some of the best club soccer coaches in Arizona ban their kids from playing high school sports altogether because they say the competition is beneath them.
Twenty years ago, however, club soccer in Arizona was still just a half-step up from recreational soccer. Soccer moms brought zip-lock bags of sliced oranges to games and gave carpool rides to kids who played the sport for the fun of it. Most coaches were volunteer dads who didn't get a penny for their hours on the field.
Now, soccer moms refuse to give rides to their children's teammates if those teammates get more playing time. Directors like Armstrong make annual salaries of $50,000 to $75,000, on top of the $50 to $100 an hour they can charge for private training sessions. Coaches ban parents from talking to their kids during games and, during out-of-town tournaments, some coaches require parents to sleep in separate hotels from their children.
Club sports have grown into the premier training grounds for top college athletes, particularly in soccer. As the relationship between club and college soccer tightened, a market for paid coaches developed.
The concept is that a professional coach can help a high school student get noticed by a college coach and receive a scholarship. Because colleges have more scholarship funding for female soccer players (see sidebar for more information), the competition is most brutal among the girls.
To this day, the best club coaches in Arizona don't waste their time coaching boys' soccer. Coaches like Armstrong spend their evenings and weekends coaching girls under-15 to girls under-18, for which parents gladly pay between $8,000 and $12,000 per year.
In a culture of intense competition, some are wondering whether the basic love for soccer has been lost.
When the board members of Sereno met to discipline Armstrong for the alleged forgery, about 100 parents and athletes showed up to protest. The issue became so nasty that Sereno president and soccer mom Darla Sipolt wrote in a letter to parents:
"Somewhere along the line, it seems that some folks have lost sight of the reason why we are all here — FOR OUR KIDS! Let's be mindful that it is still YOUTH soccer."
Others are concerned, too. Athletic trainers worry about chronic over-training and career-ending injuries during the teen years.
High school and college coaches say the best athletes are no longer playing high school soccer — an experience those athletes could eventually regret missing if they don't get a college scholarship.
Some wonder whether club coaches, focused on their salaries, have become more concerned with self-promotion than player development.
Parents say they're concerned about verbal abuse from overly competitive coaches, too. Some are having second thoughts about the psychological effects of throwing 12-, 13- and 14-year-olds into that mix.
Jim Dougher's oldest daughter, Maggie, played on Sereno's top team for three years. He remembers a time when Armstrong berated his daughter in front of him and the other parents.
"We were at a game at regionals and Maggie got called offsides. Les yelled out, 'Oh. Maggie, how the fuck can you be so stupid?' I said, 'I can't believe he just said that.' Other parents said, 'Oh, don't worry. It's nothing. He's just trying to get her motivated,'" he says.
Fed up with the drama at Sereno, Dougher recently transferred his younger daughter to another top club that he feels is slightly less competitive, SC Del Sol.
"In my opinion, youth soccer has gotten out of control. It's become a cottage industry. My other girl is going to [a tournament in San Diego] this weekend. We're being forced to stay in certain hotels, pay more than we would at other hotels. We have to prepay for three nights, no matter if we stay there or not."
Other parents are less concerned about cursing and more concerned about losing. They're wondering where Les Armstrong — known for his championship teams — will be coaching when his suspension ends in December.
Before the early 1990s, there was little money to be made in club soccer, says Hugh Bell, who has coached club, high school, and college soccer in Arizona for more than 20 years. Soccer was the most popular sport in the world, but it wasn't a priority for parents or kids in Arizona.
Among other reasons, American kids had no superstar soccer players to idolize. Boys in the 1950s could dream of becoming the next Mickey Mantle, and the 1980s begat Magic Johnson, but there were no American professional soccer pros to emulate.