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In a preseason meeting just before the start of classes, head coach John Rennie unexpectedly introduced his team to the newest senior on its roster: himself. After twenty-nine years at the helm of the Blue Devils' men's soccer team—a run that included more than 400 victories, a win-loss ratio of over .700, and Duke's first-ever national championship—Rennie had decided that the 2007 season would be his last.
Rennie seemed to have picked the right juncture to make his dramatic exit from college soccer, applying an acute sense of timing not unexpected in the master of a game where a split second can mean the difference between a sweet swish in the corner of the net or the thwunk of the ball in the defending goalie's gloved hands. The Blue Devils returned all but one starter from last year's team, which had finished the season only one win from the College Cup, soccer's Final Four. They added a talented freshman class to a veteran nucleus that consisted of thirteen seniors.
Many observers called the team Rennie's best ever, and junior forward Mike Grella boldly stated in the summer that Duke "can win the whole thing without a lot of problems." Even Rennie, in the cautious language coaches use to verbally knock on wood, acknowledged at a preseason press conference that "this team is as good as any I've had from an overall standpoint."
The only thing that didn't seem certain was how Rennie would respond to the emotions of his final season. "I did want to let the players know before the season started because I had made that decision, and I honestly don't know how it will affect me," he said in August. "I told the guys the other day we have thirteen seniors on this team, and now we have fourteen.
"Seniors always wanna go out on top."
Soccer is a game of flow. It is dependent on the free movement of players and the rhythmic passing of the ball. The ball moves from side to side, the two teams trading possession and momentum, back and forth. The game is punctuated and ultimately decided by goals—but those happen only intermittently, and sometimes not at all.
Soccer seasons are much the same way. They are free-flowing and rhythmic, delineated by peaks and valleys and individual games that stand out as defining moments. As it played out, Duke's 2007 season had as many undulations as your standard EEG.
On Friday, September 22, Duke was 4-2 after a 2-1 victory over the University of South Carolina. The Blue Devils had already lost a pair of 1-0 contests to Villanova and West Virginia universities despite controlling possession in both games. Even the much-needed win over the Gamecocks did not come without a cost—senior co-captain Michael Videira left the game late with a tight hamstring.
Videira, who leads the midfield, is like the point guard of the Blue Devils' offense, directing traffic and controlling possession at the top of the box, the large rectangle that stretches across the front of the goal. It's akin to the paint in basketball or the red zone in football; almost all goals are scored from the box. Fellow senior co-captain Tim Jepson, the lynchpin of the Blue Devils' defensive back four, was already sidelined by a hamstring injury, and senior midfielders Spencer Wadsworth and Zack Pope were still recovering from off-season surgeries.
That morning, Rennie, associate head coach Mike Jeffries B.S.E.E. '84, and assistant coach Ian Clerihew discussed options in case Videira couldn't play that night in the conference opener against archrival Maryland.
The coaches focused on senior Tomek Charowski, who had filled in for Pope in the midfield, and freshman Cole Grossman, who had yet to play because of a groin injury. Rennie had had his eye on Grossman the day before in practice during the Gladiator Match, the scrimmage played the day after a game by the backups (complete with "commanders" who pick the teams). Grossman had not seemed particularly impressive, Rennie commented to the other coaches.
"Maryland would be a brutal game to come in first game freshman year," Jeffries said with a wry smile that signaled his discomfort with the scant options.
"We don't really have any choice," Rennie responded with a shrug.
Moments before game time, Videira's hamstring was still tight, and Rennie was forced to go with Plan B: Charowski started in Videira's place, but Grossman would be counted on to provide high-quality minutes in the midfield in the second half.
"The best-laid plans…." Jeffries filled in the cliché by shaking his head as he walked to the locker room before the game. "The last thing you want to do is start the real season with your two senior captains on the bench."
In the pregame huddle, Duke's third senior captain, Kevin Stevenson, made an effort to galvanize his teammates, especially those doubting their talent following the unexpected losses and injuries. "This is home field! This is Maryland! Let's make a [expletive] statement!"
Ninety minutes of soccer later, nothing had been decided; the two teams were tied at one after regulation. Before overtime, Rennie gathered his anxious troops in a huddle on the edge of the field. "The rest is about concentration," he told them calmly. "It's between your ears now."
After ten more scoreless minutes, with a second overtime looming, the coach was more animated. "When we get wide, we don't have enough people in the [expletive] box! GET IN THE BOX! This keeper sucks!"
With just two minutes remaining in the overtime and the two rivals seemingly headed for soccer's ultimate banality, a tie, midfielder Joe Germanese found Grossman on the right side of the box. The ball bounced once at his feet before he banged it past Terrapin goalkeeper Will Swaim and into the right corner of the net. Just like that: Duke 2, Maryland 1.
It was a finish as quick as it was stunning. Grossman tried to take his shirt off—that is how real footballers celebrate goals—but it got caught on his arms. "It's probably a good thing," he admitted to the reporters who clustered around him after the game. "I'm not the strongest kid on Earth." As he talked, he was doing his best Thomas Hill impression—hands crossed on his head, his whole body still shaking with disbelief.
Pope, the senior midfielder, intent on keeping the freshman's ego in check, ran over and leaned into the circle of reporters. "Tell Cole it's only one game," he said.
It may have been only one game in the standings. But for Grossman and for the Blue Devils, to win without their two stars was nothing short of incredible.
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