WORLD CUP ‘94: 15 Days and Counting : Cle Is Key for U.S. : Defender Kooiman Plays Like Wild Man

What do people call Cle Kooiman?

Well, it depends upon the country or club he is representing. Or whether you are a teammate or an opponent who has landed face first after a meeting with Kooiman’s elbow or some other body part.

Let us count the names, starting with the right ones. His first name is the French word for key . His last name is pure Dutch.

In English, he says he doesn’t mind “Wild Man,” presumably meant as a complimentary description. His first name is pronounced like the word clay . But teammates call him, among other things, “the Wall,” “Tarzan” and “Cujo,” the rabid St. Bernard in the movie of the same name.

Clearly, a curious mental picture is starting to form.

A man of the World Cup, Kooiman’s path to the U.S. national soccer team was almost circular, starting in Ontario, his hometown, and continuing to the L.A. Aztecs of the North American Soccer League, to the indoor L.A. Lazers at the Forum in Inglewood, to Tijuana, to Juarez, to Mexico City, and finally to Mission Viejo.

It was in Mexico where his image grew and spawned some new descriptive terms, attempts to sum up his hell-bent, win-at-all-costs philosophy as a gritty, physical defender with average skills.

The rival coaches and newspapers in Mexico said Kooiman was like mala leche . Translation: Bad milk.

Kooiman pleads not guilty. The only bad milk he knows is the kind he might mistakenly pour from a container left unrefrigerated too long.

“When you have mala leche, you go in to try and hurt somebody,” he said. “That’s not how I am. If I have the chance to win the ball, I’m going to win the ball and do anything I can to get in hard.”

At different times during his four years in the Mexican first division--two seasons with the Juarez Cobras and two with Cruz Azul--Kooiman felt surrounded by the mala leche tag.

“There was a time where I was getting eaten up by the papers down there,” he said. “If they pick up on something, man, you’ll have 20 papers all saying the same things about you.”

Finally, Kooiman had a small meeting with the soccer literati and threw down a challenge.

“I told them, ‘If you can get any play in the game where I come in and try to hurt a player, I’ll eat my words and say I’m a bad player or a player that’s a dirty player,’ ” he said.

“They know I’m not a dirty player.”

Nevertheless, Kooiman doesn’t mind and even prefers attempts to compare him to the Kings’ Marty McSorley, or any of the New York Knicks for that matter. A nasty 6-foot-1, 190-pound enforcer on the back line. Those are the kinds of descriptions Kooiman wants his friends from Mexico to read before the U.S. national team’s final tuneup Saturday against Mexico at the Rose Bowl.

“It’s a compliment,” he said. “I’ll do pretty much anything I can do to win--aside from cheating. I like to come in hard on tackles. I like to intimidate the players I’m playing against.”

Kooiman’s attitude is a rare commodity and something the often shaky U.S. defense needs.

“They’re kind of in a war back there,” midfielder Claudio Reyna said. “You want big old guys back there killing people. Sometimes you have to be brutal.”

Coach Bora Milutinovic said: “It is very important for a player to have a personality, a great personality.”

Milutinovic, a big personality himself, embraces spirited players like Kooiman. And Kooiman, who turns 31 on July 4, knew he would have a better chance to make the team under Milutinovic, who had coached in Mexico, than he had under Bob Gansler, the U.S. coach in the 1990 World Cup.

“Bora has got to be one of the biggest persons down in Mexico,” Kooiman said. “I figured it was going to be my opportunity, whether it was last year or the following year. I knew inside I’d get some type of opportunity.

“He likes Mexican soccer. He likes Latino soccer. He has his contacts down there and I knew if I had done well there he’d give me a shot.

“That was my goal and that’s what happened, even though it was a little bit later than I would have liked.”

What he doesn’t do is score very often, but that isn’t his role. He has scored only once in 10 international appearances with the U.S. national team, but it was a dramatic goal against Costa Rica in the Gold Cup semifinals in Dallas last summer. It gave the United States a 1-0 overtime victory.

Lately, injuries have slowed Kooiman. Last month, it was a minor groin pull. More recently, a sore right knee has hampered him, which means the national team will probably keep an extra defender on hand for insurance. However, he is expected to play against Mexico on Saturday. Kooiman played the first 12 games for Cruz Azul this season before needing minor surgery to remove torn knee cartilage.

Cruz Azul, eliminated in the quarterfinals of the Mexican playoffs in April, is one of the more prosperous teams in Mexico. Kooiman earns about $200,000 a season, with additional amounts for living expenses and playing bonuses.

Kooiman’s soccer career certainly has not been typical. Once he seemed mired at the lower levels with the NASL’s Aztecs and the Lazers, nearly turning to a new career, kicking in the NFL. At Ontario’s Chaffey High, Kooiman set the state record when he kicked a 59-yard field goal. At times, even coaching seemed an option.

Mexico, though, got him back to the United States. He went from playing before sparse crowds to performing in stadiums before as many as 100,000 in Mexico City.

It very nearly got him to Italy in time for the 1990 World Cup.

“I was pretty upset about the whole situation,” Kooiman said. “I never even got a game. I figured if they had given me a game, at least I could look myself in the mirror and say, ‘Oh God, I gave it my old college try and just wasn’t good enough.’

“Then I could go home and sleep well. But it wasn’t like that.’

Four years later, the man known as Cujo--and many other names--can finally sleep well at night.

* DRY RUN: U.S.-Mexico will answer Rose Bowl questions. C6

* THE ROSTER: U.S. cuts to final 22. C6