The Seals, frankly, are out of cash, and as a result closed up shop Dec. 31.

How did a team that just two years ago seemed to be on the verge of breaking into the big time after a startling Open Cup run in 1997 fizzle so fast? Sadly, the Seals' story isn't unusual -- in fact, it is a story that soccer business people have heard all too often and know too well. "The fact is," Simpson said, "our success didn't really improve our fan base."

The Seals are one of those clubs that sports fans profess to love: a group of scrappy amateurs, they evolved out of a U-10 youth club into a respectable amateur side that sent players as far afield as Germany and England. C.J. Brown, national team regular and the backbone of the Chicago Fire defense, started off with the Seals. But, despite some very tangible achievements, the Seals never connected with the San Francisco fans.

"We've done everything we can to make soccer prosper, but the community hasn't responded to our efforts," Simpson said. "We're fully willing to accept blame for that -- if somebody says, 'You just weren't good enough,' we can accept that -- but we can't accept putting out any more money.

"Part of it is the lack of a stadium," said Simpson, echoing a refrain that is probably beginning to sound tired to soccer fans. "We have to battle through every kids group to use (Kezar Stadium), and then the Gaelic football league gets a shot and then us. When we need an extra date, we have to go to a special committee of neighbors of Kezar whose job it is to keep everybody out."

But, ironically, success also played a part in the Seals' demise.

"We got some notoriety, and then MLS came in and stripped our best players, with us getting very little compensation," said Simpson, ruefully. "We didn't like the agreement that the USL (then the USISL) made with MLS that allowed free movement, but we couldn't prevent it."

The Seals are like a lot of other A-League teams: they lose money -- in the Seals' case, $75,000 this year. That was unacceptable to Simpson, who was running a low-cost operation as it was. "We made money off of one game in our history," Simpson said. "It was 1997, an Open Cup tie with the Kansas City Wizards. I think we cleared about $4,000 on that game.

"We showed a profit in 1998 of $2,000. That year, our budget was $200,000, so we spent $200,000 to make $202,000. Losing money like we did this year just isn't a good business decision -- it comes out of my pocket and the other owners'. I'm not bitter or angry or anything, but I'm coming to the conclusion that I tried to do something before its time."

Such is the state of this minor-league sport. Of all the A-League teams, only Rochester has shown a profit; $500,000 according to Simpson. A-League teams are supposed to have budgets between $750,000 and $1 million, but the Seals never topped $350,000. And, it's an ill-kept secret that many other A-League teams also aren't operating with budgets close to the million-dollar mark.

So, another team closes up shop because fans don't show up. Big deal, right? Well, not exactly -- Simpson's experience points up some larger issues that are strangling the American game, and he wasn't shy about pointing them out. Usually soccer owners point the fingers at the media or at the city or at someone outside of the soccer family -- but not Simpson. According to him, the biggest problem with running a professional soccer franchise in the USA is the soccer family itself.

"First, who's satisfied with the attitude that you're involved in a sport where there's a continual cash drain?" Simpson said. "Is anyone in MLS satisfied with teams that lose $3 million a year? Is anyone in the A-League satisfied? Most teams lose far more money than we spent.

"Second, there's youth soccer. We don't know what it is that makes it difficult to enjoy a beneficial relationship with them, but they take care of themselves first. It's all lip service paid to the pros, as opposed to a relationship where youth and pro people come together to work together. I'm not saying all youth organizations are like this, but they don't know how to involve themselves with the sport at a higher level, and sometimes don't even want to help.

"Historically, that's been part of the problem. The youth organizations were founded by people who had naive, and in some cases incorrect, concepts of the game. When a group out there stood out, these individuals or teams were dealt with as if they were a threat -- some youth leaders are interested first and foremost in keeping control of their personal fiefdom, and they're pretty ruthless.

"Also, we don't know yet what reasons go into making a pro team a success yet. Look at Rochester -- I think that's a highly specific niche for soccer. Same with D.C. United in MLS. We don't have universal reasons that we can point to build on."

Simpson isn't barking up the wrong tree. One of the biggest brakes on soccer growth in the USA has been the recalcitrance of youth soccer people. There are many tales of rec teams becoming successful and attracting players from out of their region only to be shut down -- it happened to a U-14 team Simpson ran, in fact. "We started winning, and then all of a sudden, the other districts got together and said we couldn't get players from outside our area, and overnight we were done."

If this sounds crazy -- who would want to shut down a team that was playing well, attracting players and developing talent? -- that's because it is. But that's soccer in the USA, which is often so hell-bent on "play for all" that any attempt to play to win is quashed. Other sports have no such stops put upon them -- but then again, few, if any, other major American sports are largely adjudicated by people who have never even played the game.

The lack of youth support for pro soccer is long-standing and well documented. Despite the marketing jargon that drips from the mouths of media planners, the fact is that pro soccer is dying on the vine because the supposed support from youth groups has never materialized.

"It's a very complex and multifaceted thing that's wrapped up in our culture, and even some naive notions about what was important about the sport in the first place," Simpson said. "It's frustrating."

Simpson also is canny enough to notice something else: the unbalanced racial makeup of youth soccer in America today.

"This was the dream alternate sport for the white suburbs, and was, in a sense, a way to stay that way. This isn't by design, but by philosophy, where direction and politics have totally cut out the inner-city child. Where are all the Hispanic kids, who grow up playing from the cradle? Not here. There's almost no participation from the black community because this is also a pay-to-play sport in many places, and that cuts out a lot of people. What kind of development is that?"

All of these factors make it difficult for any pro soccer team to survive. Not only are they a leg down in terms of visibility in the mainstream, they are ignored by the inner cities in the major markets that sports teams need to survive and sabotaged by youth soccer because of perceived threats.

The Seals are looking for capitalization to stay alive, begging the natural question of why. Simpson acknowledges that it's a long shot at best, but says that if the risk could be spread, then perhaps owners would be better able to endure losses. "As long as we're not the only people in the community with the risk, we could continue and try."

That said, Simpson knows where he stands.

"Some people are going to look at us and say 'It's great that that guy is sticking his neck out.' But, you know, at the same time others are saying, 'That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard.' "

Random thoughts
Just two this week: Chicago Fire coach Bob Bradley is indeed USSF's man for the Olympic job (as reported here earlier) but the coach cannot extricate himself from his Fire contract. Apparently, he will finish out 2000 and then join Bruce Arena.

And kudos to USSF for calling the women's national team's bluff and sending a younger, untested team to Australia. Bitter contract disputes have become the norm -- not the exception -- for the women's team, and USSF is probably wise not to budge. Nothing against the players (who aren't getting rich -- players like Kate Sobrero take home about $21,000 a year and rely on supplemental income) but, unlike the men's squad, the women's team is paid all year and until this year had demonstrated no significant drawing power. On the other hand, the reported $100,000 that each player reportedly took home from the indoor tour is going to up the ante in an already tense relationship.

Jamie Trecker, editor of Kick! magazine, writes regularly for ESPN.com. You may e-mail him at jamie_trecker@go.com; while he guarantees he will read all letters, he regrets that he cannot guarantee a reply because of overwhelming volume.