Once in a Lifetime: The Extraordinary Story of the New York Cosmos
Not terribly long ago, we seemed on the verge of becoming a nation of soccer nuts. Folks filled stadiums and stalked players and cared who won matches. As with most passions, the moment didn't last. But when things were good they were really good, and, at the height of America's soccer craze in the mid- to late 1970s, even when they weren't so good they were really juicy, particularly where the New York Cosmos were concerned.
``Once in a Lifetime" charts the team's ascent and decline, tracking down everybody from the Cosmos' former stars to the suits in the front office.
Directed by Paul Crowder and John Dower and dutifully narrated by Matt Dillon, the movie is only so-so, borrowing a little from the VH-1 school of popumentary but lacking the snazzy production values. Instead, we get a serviceable, sometimes fascinating history of a team worthy of less ramshackle camerawork and editing. To their credit, Crowder and Dower are thorough. They find the most villainous Cosmo, the striker Giorgio Chinaglia, and the team's old mascot, who appears in a Bugs Bunny costume opposite some carrots strewn on a chair. (Some of the interviews' staging is plain silly.)
Early on, the film tries to explain why soccer is such a tough sport for Americans to like. The problem is one of structure and of temperament. The game's narrative doesn't have enough chapters, just two long acts. Americans, the thinking goes, want more stopping and starting. The journalist Lawrie Mifflin smartly compares soccer to a piece of theater. (Of course, in true American style, the filmmakers offer no soccer footage that lasts longer than five seconds.)
Soccer didn't come naturally to the man who started the Cosmos, either. Warner Communications titan Steve Ross founded the team as part of a deal with the legendary record producers Ahmet and Nesuhi Ertegun, who were big soccer fans and, it's worth noting, native Turks. The team kicked around the fledgling North American Soccer League with mild success and milder interest. Then in 1975, Ross listened to some inspired advisers and got the Brazilian icon Pelé to come out of retirement and sign with the team. More than 22,000 people attended his debut.
The New York sports press was skeptical. But it came around, too. Even The Daily News' Dick Young gave Pelé his props. Having conquered the media, Ross was looking for world domination, so he recruited international superstars such as Carlos Alberto and Franz Beckenbauer . The Cosmos were a proto-dream team. And by all accounts, Chinaglia was the most notorious of all. The movie focuses on his clashes with Pelé, and only here do the filmmakers kick up compelling dirt.
Chinaglia, who's ruddier and more rotund now, explains his behavior (the insults, tantrums, and demands) as having owed more to entitlement than egomania: When you're this amazing, you can do what you want. Pelé begged to differ, and a war of personalities ensued. The soundtrack even plays Sparks' glam-rocking ``This Town Ain't Big Enough for the Both of Us," suggesting a disco showdown.
The Cosmos being a product of the 1970s' last half, disco was part of their air. The team seemed to rise and fall with the music, succumbing to profligacy, hedonism, and bloat. It wasn't unheard of for Ross and the gang to go from Giants Stadium almost directly to Studio 54. The partying had a price. Players were showing up for games hung over.
This is all pitched as a trip into the recent past. The present, meanwhile, is looking pretty good. ``Once in a Lifetime" happily reminds us that American soccer is alive again. The same cannot be said of disco.
Wesley Morris can be reached at wmorris@globe.com.
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