Something Is Wrong If All Is Right : How Can Sockers Be Ready for Opener If Nobody Has a Gripe?

Roll the drums, blow the trumpets, press the tux, vacuum the red carpet, pop the corks, unfurl the banners and brace those rafters.

It’s that time of year.

The Sockers open their season tonight in the San Diego Sports Arena.

Everything is ready to go. Except the Sockers. These guys are definitely not ready to begin the Major Indoor Soccer League season.

Everything is peaceful with this team. Preseason training has been as quiet as a monastery. Siamese twins could not be closer than these guys seem to be. I expect they’ll show up for introductions wearing boutonnieres and carrying flowers for each other, the coaches and maybe even the owner.

Something is wrong when everything is right.

To get the Sockers in the proper frame of mind, Coach Ron Newman should make them practice in old sneakers the Clippers left in a closet. Burlap shorts would also be appropriate. An ideal site for workouts would be an abandoned quarry.

This would perturb them. This would give them reasons to complain. This would give them a nice competitive edge.

One thing you don’t do is pamper them. Make them do their laundry and pick up their equipment and maybe even set up their nets. Let them tape their ankles.

After all, this is what they have come to expect. Never fly them nonstop when you can save $5 a seat getting to Wichita through Boise. Meal money? How about $5 a day and discount coupons to a fast-food chain?

You don’t want the Sockers to be too happy.

I visited with these fellows just the other day. The organization was host of a season-opening luncheon at the Arena Club. This bothered me right away, because I have been in the Arena Club and it has been refurbished rather nicely. I couldn’t imagine the Sockers in a place with carpets and polished wood and brass. I thought maybe they might have spread plastic sheets and hidden the breakables for the occasion.

No way. The place looked great. There were flowers and cloth napkins on every table. The long-stemmed water glasses had slices of lemon. And a hosted bar was open, another surprise, and no one was ordering anything but soft drinks or mineral water, yet a bigger surprise.

In one corner of a room, an elaborate buffet was spread. It looked like a cover for the November Better Homes and Gardens, adorned as it was like a cornucopia of culinary delights.

Juli Veee was sitting at the bar, looking as if he had inadvertently stumbled upon the wrong luncheon. I felt the same way. I thought maybe this was the monthly meeting of the San Diego Garden Society.

“I’m used to having press conferences in a park . . . with the Salvation Army supplying the food,” Veee said. “Who’s paying for this? What is this? Pay-cut time?”

Veee was interrupted. Someone from the front office was handing him a packet of parking passes, plus two special cards for admission to a players’ area in the lot.

“What do I do with these?” Veee said. “I never got them before and I always got in.”

Veee frowned.

“I don’t like it,” he said. “I’m afraid of this brave new world. This is like Alice in Wonderland. We have new uniforms, food at a press conference and everyone’s polite and content. This is scary.”

Indeed.

“We always have problems,” Veee said. “I’ve never seen everything go so well. It’s too calm.”

The formal presentation did nothing to assuage this uneasiness. ESPN is actually paying for the right to televise Major Indoor Soccer League games, rather than the other way around. The Sockers are putting out a yearbook for the first time, and advertising is sold out. Program advertising is also a sellout, and so is time on the radio broadcasts.

“Somehow,” Newman said as he stood at the podium behind a microphone that actually worked, “I feel more comfortable this year than last year.”

I almost raised my hand and asked: “But Ron, doesn’t that bother you?”

I did call owner Bob Bell Friday afternoon and made what might be called an 11th-hour plea for disorder. This team has been too good for too long to see everything sink in a sea of tranquility.

“Something is wrong,” Bell mused. “It’s not supposed to be like this. I don’t suppose it will be too long before someone is upset about something. In fact, I got a guy upset with me yesterday.”

Why? It seemed that Bell was lecturing against incurring penalties for dissent, which is to say complaining too vehemently to officials. Come on, Bob, I suppose the officials will be getting flowers tonight, too.

I could think of only one potentially controversial situation. Branko Segota has not yet signed his 1986-87 contract. I would give the owner a chance to castigate his star forward for greediness or maybe uncivilized demands.

“I have a copy of the agreement right in front of me,” Bell said. “It looks fine. We have to tie up loose ends in one section on insurance liability. I expect to meet Monday.”

Alas, I had only succeeded in uncovering another problematic area smitten with the ugliness of peace and quiet.

Is there no hope?

The only chance is tonight’s ring ceremony. It may be the only way to unravel all this unity and create a state of disarray.

If I’m Bob Bell, I hand each of the players a box of Cracker Jack and say: “Here you go boys, find the rings.”