Some more amazing memories from the '62 team.  Definitely worth reading, for a sense of where Staples soccer came from!

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DAVE OLEAN '63 REMEMBERS...

It was late in the day in November of 1961 at Seaside Park in Bridgeport. The sky was overcast, but at least it was not raining. The Staples soccer team was locked in battle with Greenwich in the state semifinals. I was one of a few juniors playing in that game.  My spot was on the front line playing inside right. The score was tied 0-0. There were few substitutions being made. Greenwich had just made a sortie deep into Staples territory, and one of our backs booted the ball out of danger. It was a huge blast and went much faster and farther than it should have, rolling almost to the Cardinal goalie. The Greenwich defense had moved way up, and I knew I had no chance for it. I pulled up when I saw that the goalie would get it. The next thing I knew I was yanked out of the game, and I spent the rest of it watching someone else take my position on the field. I sat there warming that cold wooden bench at Seaside Park. The game ended with a 1-0 loss as our 1961 season came to an inglorious end on a cold, dreary day in a cold dreary town.

I knew why I was taken out of the game. Albie Loeffler was a man of few words. I don't think he said anything to me that day as I sat on the bench. He did not need to. I knew what I had done. I had not given 100 percent for sure, and I vowed that I would never let him down again. I was miserable. The season ended. Time marches on.

Living in Westport in 1960 was pretty serene. In the summer I lived at the beach, a short walk from home. I can still smell that food cooking at the Pavilion, feel the sand between my toes and smell the suntan lotion, as I walked along the wooden boardwalks and through the old brick bath houses. We used to camp out on Cockenoe Island for excitement. Life was good.  

In September I started my first year at Staples High School as a sophomore. I had no idea of joining a sports team. I just wanted to go along and get along. It was not too long before I came in contact with Mr. Loeffler. He was my Phys Ed teacher, and in one of the first days in class, we sophomores had to learn about soccer. The size of the field was explained, along with some of the rules. The most important was you could not use your hands to touch the ball! I could see a few scowls around in the class "No hands", they thought, "Give me a break!"

I had an advantage. I knew how to play. I had lived in Germany for a few years as an army brat. All the German kids played fussball, and could balance a ball on their feet indefinitely. I learned a bit while playing with the kids nearby. When we ended the lesson with a scrimmage, Mr. Loeffler took turns playing on either side to make the game interesting while setting up plays. My mistake was to strip him of the ball twice. Afterwards he cornered me as I walked up the grassy embankment to the shower room. "I want you to show up here after school to play with the soccer team." I didn't even know there was a soccer team! All of a sudden I was a member of it. My first impression that afternoon was how big those first stringers were. Bill Gish, Roy Remlin, Bill Schneider, Grif Foxley, Jim Kaufman. They were all larger than life to me. There I was. I had no soccer cleats. I did not even have a ball at home that I could practice with! What was I doing there?

I asked my parents if we could go into town and buy some real soccer shoes. Those of us with sneakers were always sliding around on the grass. It was worse when the dew settled in late in the day. I explained that I needed a set of cleats. They did not know what I was talking about, but agreed to help me out. I remember the ride downtown to Schaeffer's, and the ride back with those new black cleats and a real soccer ball. Things were looking up! I started banging that ball around constantly.

I got to play in a few varsity games that year, and even more in 1961. We always had a great team, and won most of our games. There were no spectators or fans at the games. We were under the radar for sure while everyone else cheered on the football team (always struggling to make .500). There was no soccer in Westport then, other than Mr. Loeffler's high school team. After that first season of mine in 1960, I learned all about pickup games during the summer. Usually it began with a phone call from Jim Kaufman to my house. "Hey we're putting a game together at Long Lots. Come on over!"  I was always indebted to Jim for making me feel at home, to be a part of the team. He took the time to reach out to all the underclassmen and include them in the widening soccer family. I never forgot that. I felt the glue starting to harden. I started to learn and understand what a team really was about. All the big guys pulled us along with them. It was a great feeling.

As late August rolled around, the call went out to start practice for the new season. In 1962, the beginning of my senior year, I arrived at the Staples soccer field and realized the big guys were all gone. Dan Schulman, Grif, Bill Schneider and Roy Remlin, were not there. We were now the big guys. It was all up to us!  

Albie Loeffler took one look at us, then went into his standard speech that there was not much to work with. We needed conditioning, and possibly we might end up playing .500 ball. Those first two weeks of practice each year came as close to torture as I have ever seen. I think that was Albie's secret to success. He did that every year! He worked us harder than the other coaches, I am sure, and we ran the other teams into the ground in the regular season! Still, I went home many nights each year at the start of each season wondering why I did this.

I recall one anecdote. We were lined up at the far side of the field away from the school near the chain link fence, doing many repetitions of all sorts of exercises. At one point Albie announced that the latest physical education journals had determined that deep knee bends were bad for conditioning and could actually cause some harm. We all hated the hundreds of deep knee bends that we were doing, so there was a genuine feeling of promise while he recounted the high points of the hazardous deep knee bend article. He finished his speech with, "OK we are going with another 100 reps of deep knee bends." The collective groan was immense. The exercises were capped off with a run. There was another run done after the practice concluded. You took a lap or two around all the fields and headed into the showers.

Most of our practices consisted of repetitious passing drills, tackling drills and shooting drills. Jim Kuhlmann, a standout All-American soccer player from the University of Bridgeport was there to help us all. The love of the game came easily to us with those teachers showing us the way. There were some practice scrimmages. On the first scrimmage of the 1962 season, Coach Loeffler divided us up. I ended up playing inside right that time. Not long into the scrimmage, a halfback on my side delivered a monstrous kick that sailed over my head to the opposing goalie. It was kicked way too hard and beyond my reach. The goalie may have been Pete Anderson. Pete, in his red sweatshirt, was rather small at the time, and was going to scoop up that ball easily. There was no one else around him, but I poured it on and raced toward him at full speed. I think I surprised him. He saw me coming, but managed to corral the ball just before I got to it. I flew over his head in a graceful arc, landing head first and darn near knocked myself out. The next thing I remember is Albie Loeffler peering down at me with a worried look on his face, as I lay motionless on the ground.  When he saw that I was alright, all he said was "You're a crazy nut!" I knew what he meant, and he knew that I learned my lesson from Seaside Park that year before.

In one of the last games of the previous season I received a nasty right ankle sprain, and had spent the winter learning how to kick equally well with my left foot. The field now sported a new kickboard, and I used to try to knock it over every chance I had in phys ed classes all through the winter. Frozen ground, cold temperatures and snow did not slow me down. When the next season rolled around, I could kick just as well with my left foot as with my right. There was no left footer on the front line, so I ended up on the outside left wing position, and stayed there for the entire season. I loved it.

Our team was now falling into place. Mike Dill had left the football team the previous year, and did very well in goal for us. He was back in goal again. The football coach was not on speaking terms with him after that move! Mike was one of the first football converts to soccer. We were glad to have such a gifted athlete in our midst, and in the goal, for the second year. Coach Loeffler put together a very strong defense. The three halfbacks were usually Tommy Pinkham, Burke Mandable and Roger Williams. They set up the plays, and covered so much ground in a game. Tom had long, wavy hair. I still can see that hair waving in the wind as he covered the field. The fullbacks were Bill Deegan and Jack Lillis. Jack was quite formidable. He was big, fast and tall. When he went to kick the ball, the usual reaction from opponents was to curl up and duck! Jack also played halfback early in the season. Bill was a converted front liner who had good ball sense and could break up offensive plays effectively.  

Our front line of five was good. I don't think we were as good as the backfield, but we managed to hold our own against the other teams in the league. We had a center forward and two inside men, along with the two outside positions. Doug Lorenzen was my counterpart on the right side. Jerry Keneally was the man in the middle, while the inside slots rotated among a group of Rick Arenander, Gary Miller, a junior, and Jim Paull. In any game, many of these positions were rotated among the group. We had some great subs who would play in addition to this group. There were really very few positions that were carved in stone. Albie loved to try different things.  

We were unsure of ourselves without the departed seniors, but we worked hard and practiced our plays and passing techniques. In 1962, with no organized soccer program in town, the players often came right off the street with little knowledge of the game. I remember constantly teaching the younger guys how to properly kick the ball. Most of them approached it much like they imagined Lou the Toe Groza, of football fame, would. They would hit it with their toe, and often saw the ball spin off in some unwanted direction. I hated it when there was an open net situation, with no defender in sight for an instant, and the ball launched itself off an uneducated toe only to lurch skyward. It did not matter how many times those guys were told. When they got excited, it was WHAM  right there on the toe, or just above it.

Eventually, the skill came. I remember Jim Kaufman and how he helped me along with everything. "When you do it right, you will know it," I said, showing the new guys that sweet spot right there at the laces in the crook of your foot. You had to be over the ball. There was nothing more satisfying to me than to see a good kick where the ball stitching was motionless, and the ball was corkscrewing its way into the net with a satisfying thud followed by a swish. All the explaining to the young guys did little good until they actually connected correctly. I liken it to learning the proper way to fly cast for trout. When you first feel it done right, when that line loads up the rod and you let fly, you have it made. All of us starters were constantly passing along the techniques we had learned to the new kids. We all wanted to succeed. We were a team.

Our first game was against Stamford. Albie Loeffler had constantly preached to us that we had much to learn and that there wasn't much to work with. Each year he started the practice period with some variation on his canned speech. Within the first few minutes of the game, we were shellacking Stamford. It was not pretty for Stamford. I'm not positive, but I think Mike Dill did not have one good save the entire game. The Town Crier was notorious for incorrect captions on the sports pictures that made it into the paper. We did not have numbers on our jerseys, so the poor sportswriter would invariably get the names wrong and the situation totally incorrect. They got the score right --9-0 -- but the Crier photo attempted to show one of the few Stamford sorties into Wrecker territory. It really showed an out-of-position Stamford defender madly racing back to defend their goal. I was booting a low sinker into the net, while Mike Dill was plainly visible in the far goal, hands folded across his chest watching the rout! Albie took out most of the starters and gave the younger players a chance. He may have left in a defender or two. The score would have been even more lopsided if the first string was allowed to remain in.

After the game, we were all ecstatic. Wow, our first win on our own! But Mr. Loeffler burst our bubble right away. At the next practice he read us the riot act, and went to work on fundamental drills. What he saw he did not like at all. We were back at passing drills, kicking drills, everything but playing! He was correct, we needed more strength in fundamentals, but in 1962 that was a given. I know I could not pop a ball off my toe indefinitely like those German kids could do.  He really wanted us to keep being humble and work hard for what we got. I think we all got the message.

Roger Ludlowe was next on Friday, September 21.  We headed for Fairfield and played the game on the soccer field way down hill from the school. It was another rout, 4- 0. We on the front line were starting to put some plays together as we got used to what worked and what did not. From the previous years, I had remembered Grif Foxley tearing down the left side.  He was tall and light, and could outrun just about anyone. His lightness also made him prone to ankle sprains. I was of similar build then: 6 foot tall, and a little heavier at 150 pounds. With Grif now gone,  I tried to emulate his approach. If I got a good feed from Tommy or Roger Williams, I took off down the field as fast as I could, staying outside of the defenders who always parked themselves between me and the goal. If they could not catch me, they would try to keep me from passing it in to anyone else. I had learned to kick left footed while on a full run. All I had to do was pop that ball back in toward the goalmouth at full speed, just before the opposing back ran me out of bounds along the far goal line. It worked every time -- or at least in the beginning. Later on, some of the opposition caught on.  They always tried to tackle me before I could get a pass off.  It was very rewarding to make plays like that. If I could just be accurate on my passes, we were in good position.

The third game a few days later against Andrew Warde was another turkey shoot for us.  We blanked them 5-0 away. They had a great foreign student, Hasse Haga, from Sweden I believe, and a good center forward, Bob Ryan, but our defense bottled them up quite well. Warde took three shots. Mr. Loeffler made many substitutions as the game wore on. Our defense was like a brick wall. Most of our offense was in the first half. We were starting to feel a little cocky about now, with three games and three lopsided shutouts to show for it. I had scored seven goals in those first three games. Mike Dill's role was one of a spectator. Bud Shulman was scoring. Jim Paull was scoring. Jerry was scoring. Doug, my buddy, was scoring too. I remember going home that evening, doing my homework and then lying in bed unable to sleep, reliving every facet of that game. My adrenaline was still pumping. Life was good.

On October 2 we played Roger Ludlowe on our own field. It was a closer game, but we handled them easily, 2-0. Our unscored-upon record was still intact. This was the first game that I did not score at least one goal. But the upcoming New Canaan game had me worried. They were doing very well, also undefeated. The showdown was at New Canaan on Monday, October 5. The amazing thing about this game was that the other team did not care about our shutout record, and scored right out of the gate. I could sense the panic welling up in me. I don't think I was the only one. One of the goals against us was a result of a mistake in front of our goal, where we scored against ourselves in a classic mix-up. We were rattled for sure. I remember we were behind most of the game. It was 2-1 in the waning minutes, and as time ran out we tied it up. Two overtime periods went scoreless, and we ended up with our first tie. New Canaan was a reality check. The league was tightening up. The high-scoring romps of the early season were gone. 

To bolster the point, our next game with Andrew Warde, a team we easily dispatched early in the season, turned out to be fairly tough. We won it at home, 1-0. I fed the ball to Bud Shulman early on, and he drilled it into the net for the only goal. The rest of the game remained scoreless. It wasn't that we were not trying, but Andrew Warde had improved markedly on defense.  After we finished them off, they were 1-3 on the season. We were 5-0-1, with some tough games ahead against the likes of Mc Mahon, Norwalk and Greenwich. Our McMahon game was not really close, though. We cleaned their clock 3-0. Their big player was Andy Kydes, the captain. Their team was very good. I came to the realization that we were getting better too. Still they had considerable talent on display. Much of the yelling and talking from the other team was in a foreign language. They took the game very seriously, and I felt fortunate that we dispatched them as we did.  Norwalk High was a tough game. I remember it being very close. What made it worse for me was their goalie, Ed Lassow. While we seemed to have a significant edge over our Norwalk rivals, Ed was the reason the score was close. So many shots that should have been scores for us turned out to be saves. He kept them in the game. 

Rippowam High School in Stamford was next, and fell 2-0. We were in control. Rippowam  posed little threat from the outset. All I remember was that we won. The Greenwich game following was interesting in that the Cardinals had a great offense, but we had little trouble with their defense. Mike, our goalie, was challenged in the goalmouth and had more shots on goal than any other game to date. While our defenders worked very hard, our front line fared a bit better. We scored three times, as I picked up a goal along with Jim Paull and Bud Shulman.  Doug registered two assists from right wing. 

At this point in the late season, we were riding a good record of 9-0-1 for first place in the Eastern Division of the FCIAC. New Canaan was right behind at 8-1-1. Andrew Warde was at .500 with a 5-5 record, while Roger Ludlowe was at the bottom with a 2-7 mark. Brien McMahon lead the Western Division with a 7-3-1 record, followed by Greenwich (4-6) and Norwalk (3-5-2). Rippowam was 2-7-2, while poor Stamford was in the cellar at 2-8.

Observation of the league standings and the amount of difficulty we experienced playing these teams brings me to the conclusion that most teams were erratic. There were good days and bad days. Andrew Warde at 5-5 held us to that one goal. Norwalk, with a losing record, was a tough adversary. That was a 1-0 game as well. Rippowam had beaten Norwalk earlier! Then there was New Canaan. The Rams ripped through the league and suffered only one loss, I believe. After the drubbing we received from New Canaan in our first meeting, I was very apprehensive at the thought of the upcoming home game on the 30th. Drubbing isn't the right word. We tied them, but had to come from behind to do it, and they had scored two against us. It was rough. They were the only team that scored against us. They were the first team, in my opinion, that shook us from within.

October 30 was a pretty nice day. It was fairly clear, with some high overcast, but quite cool. It was one of those days when you knew a ball to the side of your face would really hurt. Everything was hard. The cold made the ball feel hard. The ground was starting to feel hard. The slight breeze was cold, and I had a pit in my stomach at 3 p.m. This was the big one. I was nervous. I think we were all nervous. I looked at the big yellow New Canaan school bus pull in and watched those Ram players file off the bus. Jeez! They were big! I knew that when the game started it was going to be no quarter. They needed a win to tie us, so that was what they were after.  They all looked pretty determined.

I am not sure who did it, but one of the guys actually convinced a few of the football cheerleaders to come rally the troops. One feature of Staples soccer games in 1962 was the complete absence of spectators. There were no fans! When I looked over and saw those two blue and white outfits complete with blue and white pom poms, I almost fell over! There was even a small knot of about seven students assembled there.  This is something new! I thought. They were down near the field and just behind the bench. The large grassy hillside was empty as usual.

The first period was quite evenly balanced with New Canaan making several runs down around our goal. Mike Dill was busy.  He recorded more saves in this game than any other to date. Coach Loeffler had his most experienced front line in there, with Doug Lorenzen, Rick Arenander, Jerry Keneally, Jim Paull and me. We played hard and came very close to scoring on a number of occasions. I saw one shot blast against the upright wooden post, and fly back onto the field.  Another time there was a pileup in the New Canaan goal and the goalie was hurt. The ball spun crazily along the white line but would not spin in. This was the game of the year. New Canaan had two great fullbacks, Don Overbeck and Rick Davey. Both made the All-FCIAC team. They were big and blotted out the sun as you got close to them. They were so good at breaking up plays. They had my number on several occasions, bottling me up in the corner as I tried to get a pass off.  

I was 6 ft tall and about 150 pounds. My friend Doug on the other wing was as tall but almost 20 lbs lighter. Jerry and Jim were light too. Rick was quite compact, so our size and mass worked against us often. We could not seem to get a break with those defenders. Each time we broke through, we could not capitalize. They made few mistakes. We were getting frustrated. Early in the second period, I got nailed. I was stretching forward to deflect a ball away from the Ram halfback. He connected as my foot just touched the ball. The ball and my foot both took off. I went down, and knew I had a bad sprain in my right ankle. I did get up and ran it off and kept playing.

At some point in the second period a Ram committed a foul. We got a direct kick from 35 yards out, slightly to the right side of the center of the field. Albie Loeffler wanted me to take the shot. I do not think he knew I had sprained my ankle. I was not limping yet. I went over to the ball parked on the grass, while the Ram defense lined up. There are those times when you just hit the ball perfectly. When I wound up and ran in to connect with my kick, the ball caught that magic spot and took off with the lacing standing still. It sailed over several defenders in a straight line and swished into the upper right corner of the goal. There could not have been more than two inches between the ball and the upright and the crossbar. The goalie could not believe it. I watched him hesitate for just an instant, then he flew to the corner of the net, but he was not even close. He was already beaten when he started to move.

We kept the pressure on. I am not sure who took the shot. It may have been Jerry Keneally, but the ball hit the wooden crossbar, bounced straight down and hit the chalk line at mid goal, but spun around without going in and was then knocked away by a defender. I was 20 feet away on the left side, and it looked like slow motion to me. I could not get to it in time. Toward the end of the game, my ankle was hurting more. I was trying not to limp. There was no way I was going out of this game if I could help it. The Rams had one last charge in the fourth quarter, and then it was over. The whistle ended the match. The one long goal was the total scoring for the day. With much relief I staggered up that grass slope to the shower room.

We were all relieved and happy that the Rams were behind us. Bill, Jerry, Dave Grant and Jim Paull were singing four part harmonies in the shower. I was talking about the game with a few others as we unwound and decompressed in the little locker room. I took my cleats off, but when I went to stand up, I could not walk. I fell back on the bench. My ankle was a mess. I went home on crutches. That was the end of my productive season.

 We still had a county championship game ahead of us. McMahon was tops in the Western Division, and the playoff game was scheduled for Friday. The day after the New Canaan win I was hobbling around the Staples campus on my crutches. That morning during homeroom when the announcements came over the loudspeaker, the New Canaan game was mentioned with a little play by play commentary and the score. The homeroom class erupted with cheers. What's this? This had not happened much before. The school actually knew that the soccer team was doing well and was inr the county championship!  Things were changing.             

Mr. Loeffler had asked me to try to get to the Phys Ed offices so someone could do something with my ankle for the Friday game, two days away. During study hall I asked the teacher if it was possible to go to the gym to get my ankle worked on. I figured the chance was akin to the proverbial snowball in hell, but instead I heard, "You're the one who kicked that goal against New Canaan? You can go anywhere your sweet little heart desires!" I forget who the teacher was. I did not know her. I did know that the whole school was aware of what we had done! For the first time I sensed that soccer was coming of age at Staples High School. No more was it hidden from sight. People knew of the team and what we could do. It was a wonderful realization. In the few prior years that Staples was playing soccer, the team had advanced to the state preliminaries. We actually won a game against Conard, but those efforts did not seem to register with the student body. Fall was football. I could sense a slow change beginning.

Friday afternoon finally came. We boarded the bus to New Canaan to play McMahon on the Rams' field. For the first time in my life, my mom and dad showed up at a game. I tried not to look at them. I was disappointed that they only saw me now hobbling around with 15 pounds of Ace bandage wrapped around my ankle. My right shoelace was barely long enough to tie it all together. No way to play a game!

But the rest of the team was fired up. Jack Lillis and Bill Deegan at fullback, with Burke Mandable, Tommy Pinkham and Roger Williams at halfback, I thought, really put the Senators in their place. It was a tough game, but I had so much confidence in that defensive group that I never worried about the outcome. I knew we had these guys in the bag shortly after the game began. All we had to do was to score.  I think Mike had six saves the entire game, while we poured twice that many shots at the Senators' goal. We finally scored at the beginning of the second half. Doug found the net with a nice shot, and Brian McCoy, a quick-shooting junior, scored in the last period. I was glad I could contribute in a small way with a few passes. That was about all I could do. It was a close game, with McMahon having a dangerous scoring potential with Andy Kydes and a few others, but I just knew Lillis & Co. would prevail.    

The state championship run was a blur. By virtue of our unbeaten season we drew a bye in the first round, and our first game pitted us against Glastonbury. They had beaten Hall of West Hartford to get there. The interesting thing about this game was that the only goal was scored by Jack Lillis, the defensive stalwart. On a corner kick situation, Loeffler moved him up to the goalmouth to take advantage of his 6-4 height. In fact, one of our regular practice drills during the season was to do this exact play. The wings would kick it in from the corner, and Jack would practice heading the ball into the net. It all clicked in the Glastonbury game. I lofted the ball about two-thirds of the way across the net. As the ball sank, Jack went up and met it on the way down. The ball went right into the net before the goalie could react.

We outplayed Glastonbury this time.  I thought that was the way it should be. We deserved to be there. We played on an upstate field with no spectators. The field was uneven, and had some very wet spots where water seeped out of the ground. We were fine, although it was a very close game, with one gut-wrenching moment. A Glastonbury direct kick slipped through the defense, and Mike barely deflected the ball off his chest while slipping in one of those muddy areas. Bill Deegan managed to get there and boot it away off a Glastonbury player. Besides that play, I don't think Glastonbury got a real shot off for the entire game. Our front line had many more chances to score, but the net eluded us. I was pretty helpless with a bad ankle. I could not thread the needle through their defense. It was frustrating for me, but it was a good game for us. We had gotten to the state finals for the first time!

The big day was cold and overcast. We rode the school bus up to Wallingford Tuesday afternoon. It was November 13, 1962 and the first time Staples had ever made it to the finals. The game was at neutral Choate School field against Manchester. As our bus drove up the hill to the field we all saw bus after bus parked in rows. They all had MANCHESTER printed on the side. We saw that the field was ringed by hundreds of spectators from those myriad buses. I felt sheer terror. A rope stretched around the field about five feet from the outside line. At every spot behind the rope were Manchester fans about five deep. I honestly cannot remember much about it. I think I was beaten mentally before the game even started.

When it did begin, the Manchester offense was all over us. We could not put much of an offense together either. Every play was thwarted by a big and aggressive response. Our backfield was under constant attack. No sooner would Bill Deegan or Jack Lillis clear the ball forward than the Manchester defense would strip us of the ball and pass it forward again. We did not just lose, but were beaten badly by a team that wanted to be there, and had tremendous support. After a 3-0 drubbing, the long bus ride back was a time for each of us to reflect on what had happened. I learned how mental attitude can be so important. I also learned that you do not build a program overnight. Looking around in the back of the bus at all the seniors who would not be there next year, I wondered how the young guys would do. Pete Anderson, Dennis Colacicco, Gary Miller, Roger Williams, Brian McCoy, Jeff Richards and the bunch sure had their hands full. With only two starters returning, it would be a rebuilding year. I could almost hear Albie's prepared speech for the next year to be delivered on a late August afternoon behind the school. The important difference was that now they had all been there. We had all gone to the finals. We knew what it was like!

In the spring of 1962, many team members helped start and coach a new soccer program in the Westport elementary schools. Doug and I were at Green's Farms School near Doug's house. We got the kids playing, while trying to spread out the horde of little "bees" chasing after the ball. It was fun and frustrating at the same time. After some basic coaching, things looked up. They started to spread out, and some of them knew what defense was. The younger kids were getting exposed to soccer, sneakers and all. It was not long before I moved away from Westport, and was off to college. Dennis Colacicco, Gary Miller, Roger Williams and company picked up where we had left off. They put together a great season the following year, and made it to the state tournament. This time they went all the way without losing. Staples had its first state soccer crown.

After college I spent a few years in the military overseas, before starting a small family in Maine.

I watched my son play soccer in high school. He had a good left foot too. During his years on an U-16 team in New Hampshire, I met some players from Westport who were there in a tournament. They looked great! I asked one of them what soccer was like in Westport now. His answer startled me. I had no idea of the breadth of Albie Loeffler's harvest. From those early years and the untallied efforts of many people, the seed that Albie Loeffler planted was establishing roots. It was not long before it blossomed into a full bloom that has continued to this day. We can make the connections in time. From Bill Needham, Dee Tashian and George Scott, to Bill Schneider and Jim Kaufman, to Jerry Keneally, to Jeff Simon and Brian McCoy, on up through Jeff and Jon Hand, the Baumann brothers, the Noonans and Martinos to the present day, the fruits of that effort have been sweet indeed.