Revamped Toronto FC already looks like one of league’s best: Kelly
From Jermain Defoe to Michael Bradley to Steven Caldwell, TFC’s top players all stepped up in a season-opening victory in Seattle.
TED S. WARREN / THE ASSOCIATED PRESS
Seattle Sounder Clint Dempsey goes down after battling with Toronto FC's Michael Bradley, left, and Alvaro Rey during Saturday's game.
For the first seven years of Toronto FC’s existence, this is how I thought of them — as the people who stole my Saturday afternoons.
About 20 times a year I’d waste the good half of a weekend at BMO, watching TFC’s rent-a-weirdos hack at the ball like they were trying to split it in half. I’m not sure how all these players came to be paid by MLSE to play soccer as badly as you or I would. I’ve always assumed blackmail was part of the mix.
It wasn’t completely awful. I’ve always enjoyed the suffering of others. It makes me feelcomplete
.
.
Also, there was a perverse pride in covering The Worst Team in the History of Professional Sports. It was a little like working the Hanging beat at Tombstone’s local paper.
Well, fun’s over. Now it’s back to — (sigh) — professionalism.
Based on their first outing in Seattle on Saturday, this is not just an improved Toronto FC team. It’s probably the best team in Major League Soccer.
Seattle is a settled and put-together side, one of the three or four finest in the league. They play in the most hostile environment on the continent. They are riddled with long-standing European veterans.
Toronto FC, featuring precisely zero players who were part of last year’s season opener, pulled Seattle apart like toffee.
It was not a matter of the final score — a 2-1 win. That’s something. That’s the third time — THE THIRD TIME — TFC’s been above .500 in the club’s history. So, sorry, that is something.
. That’s something. That’s the third time — THE THIRD TIME — TFC’s been above .500 in the club’s history. So, sorry, that is something.
But if you watched it, that wasn’t the thing.
The thing was the professionalism on display. Toronto FC suddenly look like a team, rather than a collection of reasonably-fit mopes in shorts, who’ve all done Quaaludes during the warm-up.
The star of the game was Jermain Defoe. He’ll deservedly get the headlines.
On his first two touches, Defoe scored two goals, each of dazzlingly imperious ease. The real skill of a first-class striker is not in the finish. It’s in finding the spot to make it.
At precisely the right moments in the first 24 minutes, Defoe pursued precisely the right angle to confound Seattle’s back line. His two goals in the first game would already tie him for fourth on TFC’s overall tally last season.
But to fully appreciate the new competence on this side, you must trace everything backwards.
Defoe was allowed to shine because his partner at the front, Dwayne De Rosario, was also making smart, slashing runs. When two forwards are running in sync, no defence can properly accommodate them.
Out on the wings, Alvaro Rey and newcomer Jackson were exemplars of effort. Rey continues to impress with his intelligence and industry. Jackson has half that package, but he is tireless. The combination is exhausting to watch.
The game’s real star operated from the very centre — Michael Bradley.
I’m not sure what we all expected from the American standout. Would he change his game now that he was back in an inferior league? He didn’t. All he did was raise it.
On the basis of 90 minutes, Bradley is already the most intelligent and brutal player in Major League Soccer.
Wayne Gretzky made a living going to where the puck would be. Bradley goes to where to where the ball will meet a human appendage, and then chops it in half. Then he grinds out the stump and piles the dirt back in on your sporting corpse. Based on one game, Bradley is the best player ever to wear a Toronto FC strip. Defoe is just the most dangerous. They are the rare DP pair in MLS who earn their salaries.
And yet — and yet — that still wasn’t the most impressive thing about the game.
We expected the stars to be stars (and, like most expectations, “expect” only means “hoped”).
Where this team has made titanic strides is at the back. That’s where Toronto FC’s best efforts have historically been undermined. On odd-man rushes. On set plays. On both, and especially late.
On Saturday, led by captain Steven Caldwell, Toronto found a new (unique?) resilience. They gave up one goal midway through the second half — from distance, a fortunate strike — but they never appeared overcome by the occasion.
The word — and it has never before applied to this club — was “organization”. There was a plan in place. It worked.
It’s very early, but based on the complications — season opener, entirely new team, undermanned because of injury (Gilberto, Bradley Orr), playing one of the league’s best, at their home, in their second game — this should have been a loss.
But then that happened. After seven years of knowing what to expect, this was like watching your dog do algebra. This was — and I hesitate to use this word two days in a row, considering the potential emotional consequences — something that felt very close to fun.
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