Bewildered
in the midst of one of my first assignments as a pro soccer reporter, I turned
to Frank Dell’Apa. I chose wisely.
I’d been
sent to the Seaport Hotel to write an advance on MLS Cup 1999, to be played
that weekend in Foxboro, and was entirely out of my element. The scene was a
free-for-all, media members grabbing players and coaches for interviews all
over the ballroom, with no nametags or ID placards to steer a 23-year-old with sparse
knowledge of the D.C. United and L.A. Galaxy rosters in the right direction. I
did know what Ben Olsen looked like, but I couldn’t find him.
I also knew
what Frank looked like, and fortunately he was standing right in front of me. I
stammered out a quick introduction and asked him if he knew where Ben Olsen
was. He couldn’t have been more gracious.
Over the
next seven years, I shared a press box and training ground with Frank, and that
graciousness was even more of a constant than his folded pink copy of La
Gazzetta dello Sport. He knew the people to talk to, the books to read, the
stories to pursue, and was happy to share them with a young reporter. One
afternoon many years ago, I got a call out of the blue. Simon Kuper was
speaking that night in Lowell (where I lived at the time); Frank thought of me
and checked to see if I was interested in going.
As
newspapers and their staffs have shrunk over the last decade, they’ve
irreparably lost much of their institutional memory. Frank’s departure from the
Globe is such a blow to the sport in New England because he was the only one
left who’d seen it all in MLS from the start, and because it mattered so much
to him. Most sportswriters would give anything to be switched from the Revs
beat to the Celtics beat. Frank isn’t “most sportswriters.”
I don’t
remember if I actually found Ben Olsen that day 13 years ago, but I’ll always
recall the simple gesture of a veteran writer. I’m glad he’s returning full-time
to the sport he loves, but it’s a shame that New England soccer is losing a big
part of its roots.
