Culture
The wacky true story of the hockey team that inspired 'Slap Shot'
Once upon a time, there was a screenplay for a hockey movie that was so absurd, so over the top, that even the studio executives who wanted to make it wondered if it was too unrealistic.
Almost every page of the script featured profanity. There were wild brawls on the ice, fights with fans in the stands and a trio of bespectacled brothers who raced toy cars at home and pummeled opponents at night. It was so outrageous that one day Ned Dowd, a minor-league hockey player, received a call from his sister, Nancy, who wrote the screenplay and was trying to get the movie made.
She asked for Ned’s help.
Nancy Dowd had shadowed Ned’s team, the Johnstown Jets, for a month during the 1974-75 season of the North American Hockey League (NAHL), about the lowest rung of the minors, a place for long shots, has-beens and brawlers. Nancy had degrees from Smith College and UCLA’s film school, but she’d become fascinated by her brother’s existence on hockey’s frontier and wrote a script about a rowdy minor-league team on the verge of collapse that rallies to win the championship.
The movie, “Slap Shot,” would go on to become one of the greatest sports films of all time, a classic still beloved by both fans and players more than 45 years later. But first a studio had to make it, and that’s why Nancy Dowd called Ned. She asked him to fly to Los Angeles and meet with actor Paul Newman, director George Roy Hill and skeptical executives from Universal Pictures.
Ned, a self-described raconteur with a history degree from Bowdoin College, walked into a private dining room at Universal and started to regale the group with stories about his playing days in Johnstown, Pa. Soon it must have become obvious that the wildest thing about “Slap Shot” wasn’t the brawls on the ice or fights in the stands or the goofy, goony brothers later immortalized as the Hansons.
The wildest thing was that so much of it actually happened.
Fred Yost waited at the airport. And waited. And waited.
He was there in October 1974 to pick up three new players for the Johnstown Jets before training camp, and even though Yost had never met them, he was confident he would recognize the trio as hockey players.
Except no one at the airport looked much like a hockey player. What Yost did see were three tall guys with long hair and glasses. A rock band, he thought.
The airport crowd thinned. Yost, the middle-aged sports editor of the Johnstown Tribune-Democrat, was still there. So were the three guys with long hair and glasses who Yost watched throttle an unaccommodating vending machine at the airport.
“Are you guys the Carlsons?” Yost asked, and when the three said they were, Yost would later tell a colleague his only reaction was: “Oh my god.”
The three brothers wore black-rimmed glasses. They were 6 feet 3. All had long hair. They wore consecutive numbers (16, 17, 18), played on the same line and lived together. Steve played center, Jeff on the right and Jack on the left.
During their first shift at training camp, Steve Carlson held up two fingers to signal to his brothers play number two. The rest of the Jets were stunned.
“You don’t do that in hockey,” goalie Ron Docken said.
Some players started to laugh — including, until that moment, the Jets’ toughest enforcer. That was a mistake. Jeff Carlson, in the words of Docken, skated over and “beat the tar out of him.”
Before the Jets’ first game, defenseman Pat Westrum walked into the locker room and saw the Carlsons sitting together — as always — with golf gloves on. Confused, he watched as the brothers wrapped tape between their fingers.
“What the hell are you guys doing?” Westrum asked.
“Oh, yeah, this is good,” one of the brothers said. “If you get in a fight, it cuts their face.”
This is going to be bonkers, Westrum thought.
In the first period, Westrum watched the Carlsons fly all over the ice and smash opponents into the boards, a three-headed attack squad out for mayhem. Later in the game, all three brothers fought a different opponent at the exact same time. They racked up six penalties, scored three of the team’s four goals and Jeff Carlson was ejected.
Westrum couldn’t believe it: Are you kidding me? This is what I’m getting into?
Drunk late one night in Johnstown, Ned Dowd called Nancy in Los Angeles.
Ned was in his second season in Johnstown and just his second season of pro hockey. After earning his masters from McGill University in Montreal, he had decided to chase his hockey dreams in the rough-and-rugged NAHL, where the old joke was: “I went to a fight and a hockey game broke out.”
“It was my first job out of college,” Ned said. “Really, I went to college to do this?”
On the phone that night, Ned told his sister about the absurdity of minor-league hockey. During his first season, the Jets had almost folded. The team had been $50,000 in debt and held a telethon to raise money. One newspaper report said at the time the Jets needed to average at least 3,200 fans for four playoff games or else drop out of the NAHL.
When Nancy asked Ned who even owned the Jets, Ned said he didn’t know.
On top of that, Ned’s first season in Johnstown had ended in the most bizarre way possible.
With 19 seconds left in the second period of a semifinal playoff series against the Syracuse Blazers, Johnstown fans attacked two Syracuse players in the penalty box. One of those players was notorious NAHL bad boy Bill “Goldie” Goldthorpe, conspicuous with his bushy sideburns and big blonde afro. Goldie Goldthorpe’s reputation preceded him in every arena. Once, he bit an official. Another time, he traded punches in street clothes on the ice with Ron Orr, the brother of Hall of Famer Bobby Orr and the general manager of the other team.
To calm the storm in Johnstown, the referee sent both teams off the ice. It didn’t work. More than 400 Johnstown fans swarmed around the Blazers’ locker room. Citing insufficient protection from security at Johnstown’s arena, the Syracuse coach refused to return his team to the ice and forfeited the game. (When the Blazers did leave, Johnstown fans pelted the team bus with beer bottles).
In the morning, Johnstown players voted not to travel to Syracuse for the next game because, Docken said, Syracuse fans “would have been throwing beer cans and whatever else at us.”
Or, as Ned Dowd put it, “We all just said: We’re not going back there.’”
So the Jets forfeited the game — and the series — and Ned’s first season of pro hockey was over just like that.
As Nancy listened to her brother’s stories on the phone, she had an idea. She dropped everything, bought a ticket to Johnstown and embedded with the Jets.
Once there, she met three muses with long hair and black-rimmed glasses.
The first time Ron Docken walked into the Carlson brothers’ house in Johnstown and saw the toy racetrack, he was not surprised.
“Not a bit,” he said.
That was just the Carlsons.
Docken: When the Carlsons got their first paycheck, they went down to the local department store and bought remote cars and every inch of track they could get.
Westrum: Their house was whacko. It was wide open. And the whole thing revolved around the racetrack.
Docken: In their living room, they set up a track and then it went down the hall into the bedroom, into the bathroom and back out again.
Westrum: We’d have a few drinks and then we’d bet on whose car was going to win. That was after practice a lot.
Docken: When you’d go over there, the refrigerator was full of beer and that was about it.
Westrum: I don’t know if they even ate at home ever. It was just a mess.
Docken: You’d race and you had $20, $30, $40, $50 in the middle of the track, but if your car went into the bedroom and didn’t come back, you lost.
Joe Gorden, Johnstown Tribune-Democrat sportswriter: We’d just got into the motel and a lot of guys had gone to their room. We were standing around the lobby. A kid came in, maybe 10 or 12 years old. A little chubby. He walked right up to Jack Carlson and said: “Are you Jack Carlson?” Jack said yes. The kid took off his jacket, threw it on the floor and said: “I came to challenge you.” The Carlson brothers are all standing around. The kid produced a roll of quarters and said: “We’re playing video games.” The only video game in those days was pong, so Jack Carlson played pong against this kid for hours. The other two Carlsons were standing there, cheering, they were really into it.
Docken: Jeff Carlson had a pet rock in his locker.
Gorden: They used to walk around town with a brick on a leash.
Gorden: Jack Carlson was whistled for a penalty at one point and put in the penalty box. The officials looked around and he wasn’t there. They couldn’t find him. He was three rows up in the stands sitting next to a little kid. The kid had yelled down to him: “Hey, Jack, do you want a hot dog?” So Jack went up and sat beside this kid and ate a hot dog.
Ned Dowd: The bus, we called it the Iron Lung.
Gorden: One night almost everyone was asleep. Steve Carlson rolled up in a blanket and went to sleep and the other guys set him on fire. I woke up, there’s smoke, there’s flames coming off his blanket, they’re all laughing.
Westrum: Lighting people’s tennis shoes on fire.
Gorden: When I went on the road with them, I roomed with Dick Roberge, the coach, at first. We went into the motel in Cape Cod, and Dick said: “We have a block of rooms.” They said: “Yep.” He said: “You have the Carlson brothers?” They said: “Yep.” He said: “I want you to put them at the other end of the motel. And let me know what the damages are in the morning.”
Docken: These guys were hilarious.
They were also prone to a fight or three.
Nancy Dowd hung around the Jets for three or four weeks.
She crossed paths with John Mitchell, the team’s executive director who wore a black winter hat, peppered his sentences with “son” and cautioned his players about their vampire hours: “Big man at night, little man in the morning.” She met eccentric backup goalie Jean-Louis Levasseur, who once wore fishing gear to a team party and tried to reel in a bar of soap from a fish bowl, and Dave “Killer” Hanson, a friend of the Carlsons who also raced toy cars, loved comic books and often joined the brothers in fights.
Nancy even asked Ned to carry a small tape recorder into the locker room and onto the team bus.
“We would always see Ned reach down and turn the tape recorder on,” Docken said. “As soon as that happened, all the F’s and S’s would go flying around.”
Nancy flew home to Los Angeles with about 50 hours worth of behind-the-scenes audio tapes. A talented writer with a knack for dialogue — she later won an Oscar for best original screenplay for the movie “Coming Home” — Nancy produced a script in four months.
It was a January night in Utica, another game in a long season full of them, when the Carlson brothers went to jail.
The trouble started when Jack Carlson squared up with Mohawk Valley defenseman Gerard Gibbons. Before the two could exchange punches, Steve Carlson rushed in and cross-checked Gibbons, setting off a brawl.
At some point during the chaos, an object thrown from the stands hit Jack Carlson in the face (some witnesses said it was keys; others thought it was ball bearings, nuts and bolts). Either way, the Carlsons and some of their teammates scaled the plexiglass, climbed into the stands and used their sticks to fight Utica fans. Mohawk Valley coach Brian Conacher claimed one of the Carlsons chucked his stick into the crowd like a spear. An usher rushed over to one of the Carlson brothers, so Dave “Killer” Hanson rushed to take on the usher.
It was chaos.
Fifteen Utica policemen arrived at the arena and hauled away Jeff and Jack Carlson in cuffs. Later that night, Harry Neale, who was coaching the Minnesota Fighting Saints of the World Hockey Association at the time and happened to be in town on a scouting trip, bailed the brothers out of jail.
Two weeks later, while the legal proceedings from the brawl in Utica played out in court, the Jets faced the Broome County Dusters. Some of the Dusters’ players wore fake glasses attached to big noses during warmups — a shot at the Carlson brothers. In the locker room before the game, Steve Carlson warned Johnstown coach Dick Roberge, according to the book “The Making of Slap Shot: Behind the Scenes of the Greatest Hockey Movie” by Jonathan Jackson.
“Coach, as soon as that puck is dropped, we’re pairing up,” Steve Carlson said.
The brawl resulted in: Jack Carlson flying over the boards; a Dusters player ending up in the Johnstown bench, where he received “about 1,000 lumps” from Roberge and the team trainer; the Dusters coach accusing Jack Carlson of wearing tape on his hands; and a red-faced, cut-up, stick-swinging Dusters tough guy named Ted McCaskill delivering one of the most cold-blooded postgame quotes of all time.
“If I could have,” McCaskill said about his run-in with Jack Carlson, “I would have decapitated him.”
Around that time, something changed for the Jets. Once a team with a losing record on the outside of the NAHL playoff picture, the Jets went 22-8 in the final 30 games and roared into the playoffs.
“Everybody was scared of us, to be truthful,” Westrum said.
The Jets rode that intimidation and their talent — Dave Hanson, Jack Carlson and Steve Carlson would all play in the NHL — to an unlikely championship and a perfect Hollywood ending.
Once Universal signed off on the movie, Paul Newman traveled to Johnstown in February 1976 to scout the city as a possible location. Naturally, he went to a Jets game.
With 18 seconds left that night, Dusters goalie Cap Raeder allowed his eighth goal of the night. A rowdy Johnstown fan shouted something at him. Raeder skated over, broke his stick against the glass and climbed into the crowd. Teammates joined him, some firing sticks into the stands. Just as order was about to be restored, Johnstown fans knocked over a piece of plexiglass, which smashed Duster Ed Pizunski on the head. Pizunski returned the favor by pummeling a nearby fan.
After the game, Newman grabbed a beer with a reporter from the Binghamton Press and Sun-Bulletin. He was delighted.
“We don’t have to look any farther,” Newman said. “This place is perfect.”
The movie started filming in Johnstown in March 1976. Many real-life characters had parts in the movie: Ned Dowd was the notorious goon Olgie Oglethorpe. Nine Broome County Dusters appeared in the film, including Ted McCaskill, as did many Johnstown Jets. Most famously of all, Jeff and Steve Carlson along with Dave “Killer” Hanson starred as the glasses-wearing brothers who loved toy cars and brawls (the Carlson’s brother Jack got called up to play in Edmonton of the WHA before the movie was shot).
In other words, the trio played themselves.
In one final intersection between real life and art, the Jets played a playoff game in March 1976 against the Buffalo Norsemen. During warmups 20 minutes before the game, Johnstown’s Vern Campigotto skated past Buffalo’s Greg Neeld, who had lost his left eye years earlier and had more recently antagonized the Jets.
“Hey, you one-eyed bastard,” Campigotto said, then challenged Neeld to a fight. Dave “Killer” Hanson jumped in. So did Steve Carlson despite a cast on his hand.
Since there were no officials on the ice and the incident happened before the puck dropped, the Jets were not penalized for inciting a brawl. Actually, they were rewarded for it. The Buffalo team refused to come out of the locker room and forfeited both the game and the playoff series. In one final twist, the NAHL fined Buffalo, not Johnstown, $1,000.
The only thing that did not actually happen that night: No one yelled they were trying to listen to the song!
(Illustration: John Bradford / The Athletic. Photos: Jets team picture courtesy of the Johnstown, Pa., Tribune-Democrat; other images: Getty; Movie Poster Image Art)
Culture
‘A long road. A big mountain to climb’: Inside Matt Murray’s emotional journey back to the NHL
BUFFALO, N.Y. — Matt Murray looked up to the scoreboard above him, counted down the seconds as they disappeared and finally pumped his fist.
It had been 638 days since Murray last felt the feeling washing over him.
Bilateral hip surgery forced the Toronto Maple Leafs goalie out of the entire 2023-24 season, the final of a four-year contract. There was no guarantee the oft-injured Murray would play in the NHL again. A one-year contract offered him a lifeline to continue grinding far out of the spotlight in the AHL, with only one goal.
And over a year and a half later, Murray was back to where he had fought to be: in the NHL win column after stopping 24 shots in a 6-3 win over the Buffalo Sabres.
“A long road. A big mountain to climb. But I kept this moment in the front of my mind on the days it felt tough,” Murray said.
The 30-year-old’s eyes grew more red with every word he spoke after the game. His voice quivered.
“A big release,” he said, struggling to find the words to put nearly two years away from the NHL into perspective. “A rush of emotions.”
The typical goalie hugs with teammates after the win were tighter, longer. In a physical game where a player’s career can turn on a dime, Murray’s return resonated far more heavily than the 2 points the Leafs also added on the day.
“It’s good to see (Murray) smiling,” Steven Lorentz said, “because you know he’s back doing what he loves.”
In the dressing room, Max Domi immediately handed Murray the team’s WWE-style wrestling belt as player of the game. Murray’s up-and-down performance was secondary.
“He was getting that thing, 100 percent, he deserved it,” Domi said. “The ability to stick with it mentally, out of all those days that I’m sure he had a lot of doubt, it’s a long road to recovery. We’re all super proud of him.”
It’s easy to quantify just how long Murray’s road back to the NHL was in days: 628 of them between his last two appearances.
It’s far more difficult to accurately describe just how arduous that road is.
Injuries have dogged Murray throughout his career after winning back-to-back Stanley Cup titles in his first two seasons in the NHL with the Pittsburgh Penguins. His games played tapered off every season from 2018 to 2022. After he was traded to the Leafs in summer 2022, he struggled through his first season. It was fair to wonder whether hip surgery would be the final dagger in his NHL career.
But Murray would still hang around teammates at the Leafs’ practice facility during his rehabilitation last season, feeling so close but so far away from the league he once conquered.
“The fact that he’s just on his way back here says a lot about his character, his dedication to the game,” Lorentz said.
Murray kept a stall full of his gear at that facility that was never used. An important and humane gesture from the Leafs organization, but still a reminder that Murray was not playing NHL games.
Even after re-signing with the Leafs on a one-year, $875,000 deal, he felt like the organization’s No. 4 goalie. When the Leafs needed a netminder to replace the injured Anthony Stolarz, they called up Dennis Hildeby. The lanky Hildeby is seven years’ Murray’s junior.
How could Murray not wonder whether his NHL return would ever come?
“There were definitely times when it felt really difficult,” Murray said. “But whenever I felt like that, I had a great group of people around me. That’s the only reason why I’m here.”
All Murray could do was work his tail off, far away from public sight, quietly hoping for the return that finally came Friday night.
“The emotions were high today,” Murray said.
Those emotions perhaps ran highest before the game. The typically stoic Murray allowed himself to stop and appreciate how far he’s come.
“I was able to take a moment in warmups and during the anthem and look around and appreciate the long journey that it’s been and think of all the people who helped me get here,” Murray said.
It was the kind of game that reminded onlookers of the fragility of an NHL career. Just a few short years separated Murray from being a Stanley Cup winner to being largely written off from the NHL, all essentially before the age of 30.
“You feel for a guy like that because he works so hard and he wants it so bad,” Lorentz said. “We’re all rooting for him.”
Murray moved well enough in his return. He swallowed most of the 27 shots the Sabres threw at him, looking every bit the veteran he is. Murray had two goals against called back upon video review. His sprawling save on Sabres forward Alex Tuch was a reminder of the athleticism he can provide now that he’s fully healthy, too.
They’re all qualities Leafs fans might have forgotten. But they’re qualities that are still front of mind for Murray’s Leafs teammates.
“It hasn’t been forgotten in my mind what he’s accomplished in this league in his career,” Leafs forward Max Pacioretty said, himself no stranger to debilitating injuries that threaten a career. “It’s hard to almost remember what you’ve done, what you’ve accomplished because it seems like all the noise is always in the moment, whether it’s the injury or what has happened lately.”
Perhaps the Leafs win could have been predicted ahead of time. Sure, they were playing a reeling Sabres team that has now sputtered through 12 losses in a row. And they were buoyed by an upstart, white-hot line of Max Domi, Bobby McMann and Nick Robertson. They’re the third line in name only: The trio combined for three goals and 6 points against the Sabres.
But the opponent shouldn’t denigrate what was front of mind not just for Murray but also for the Leafs in Buffalo. They wanted to do right by a player who has done everything in his power to return to the NHL. You didn’t have to squint to see a defenceman like Jake McCabe throwing Sabres out of Murray’s crease with a little extra gusto.
“It gives you some incentive to go the extra mile because you know (Murray) has gone that extra mile just to get back to this position to where he’s at right,” Lorentz said. “It’s not like he half-assed it to get back to this point and he expected to be here. Surgeries and injuries like that, that he went through, that can stunt your career for a long time. You might never be able to recover to your old form.”
But Murray is working on getting back to the Matt Murray of old. And the Leafs’ need for Murray won’t end when they head north on the QEW back to Toronto.
The earliest Stolarz will likely return from a knee injury will be mid-to-late January. Hildeby doesn’t exactly have the full confidence of the Leafs organization right now after allowing a few soft goals during a recent call-up against the Sabres at home, combined with a less-than-stellar AHL season so far. He’s likely going to be an NHL player down the road, but there’s room for him to grow and develop more confidence in his game.
But Murray has what no other goalie in the Leafs organization has: experience. And that matters to Brad Treliving and Craig Berube: Both value games played and would rather lean on veterans whenever possible.
They’ll lean on Murray because of everything he’s done, and gone through, in his career.
After Friday night, that career looks drastically different.
“In reality, you’ve got to take each day as it comes and you never know when it’s going to be all over,” Pacioretty said. “So you don’t want to take days for granted.”
After Murray had dried his eyes and slowly taken off the pounds of goalie gear heavy with sweat, he sat on his own in the dressing room. The Leafs equipment staff all stopped unloading bags from the dressing room to give him a quiet pat on the back.
Murray looked up to see a note written on a whiteboard in the dressing room. The Leafs bus would be leaving in 20 minutes. There was another NHL game on the horizon.
He could smile once again knowing it certainly won’t be 628 days between being able to do what he loved.
(Top photo: Timothy T. Ludwig / Imagn Images)
Culture
How Merseyside became America’s 51st state
Beyond the dust of Liverpool’s dock road and the huge lorries rolling in and out of the city’s port, the glass panels of Everton’s new home at the Bramley-Moore Dock sparkle impressively, radiating ambition.
The site, expected to open next year, is a feat of engineering considering the narrow dimensions of the fresh land below it, where old waters have been drained to create a 52,888-capacity arena that has been earmarked to host matches at the 2028 European Championship.
The Everton Stadium, as it is currently known, has been nearly 30 years in the making and nothing about its construction has been straightforward. There were three other proposed sites — including one outside Liverpool’s city boundaries, in Kirkby — which never materialised; a sponsorship deal collapsing due to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine; three owners, Peter Johnson, Bill Kenwright and Farhad Moshiri, departing; and several flirtations with relegation.
Ultimately, Dan Friedkin, a Texan-based billionaire, will have the honour of being in post when it is inaugurated after his group’s long-awaited takeover was completed on Thursday.
It has been a momentous week for Everton, and for the region as a whole. The Friedkin Group’s takeover means both of Merseyside’s Premier League clubs are now controlled by Americans. Meanwhile, a third, League Two side Tranmere Rovers, could join them if the English Football League (EFL) ratifies a takeover by a consortium led by Donald Trump’s former lawyer Joe Tacopina.
In football terms, Liverpool is on the verge of becoming the USA’s 51st state — the name of the 2001 movie starring Samuel L Jackson and Robert Carlyle, which was filmed in the city and used Anfield, the home of Liverpool FC, as a backdrop.
It is a huge cultural shift from the days — back when that film was released — when Liverpool and Everton had local owners and an American takeover of the city’s most celebrated sporting organisations seemed unthinkable.
And for all the excitement that Everton and Tranmere’s takeovers have generated, there remains an underlying caution — born of years of fear and frustration over the direction their clubs have taken — over what U.S. ownership will mean.
GO DEEPER
Inside Everton’s Friedkin takeover: From the precipice to fresh hope thanks to new U.S. owner
Everton is a club of contrasts.
Much of their mainly local support comes from some of the United Kingdom’s most economically challenged districts in the north end of Liverpool, near Walton where Goodison Park is located, and the ‘People’s Club’ — as former manager David Moyes christened them — has long taken pride in not being connected to big business, particularly in comparison to their near-neighbours Liverpool.
“One Evertonian is worth twenty Liverpudlians,” said former local captain Brian Labone, who led the team he supported as a boy in the 1960s.
Yet it hasn’t always been this way. At that time, it was Everton — not Liverpool — who were the city’s big spenders under their chairman John Moores, the founder of Littlewoods Pools. Then, their nickname was the ‘Mersey Millionaires’ and the club’s modus operandi was unapologetically ruthless: one manager, Johnny Carey, was sacked in the back of a taxi.
Moores would detail several innovations that would grow the sport, making it more attractive to business. They included the creation of a European Super League (sound familiar?), the rise of television, as well as the removal of the maximum wage, leaving a free market in which the best players would go to the richest clubs.
When Liverpool started to dominate English football and Goodison Park experienced a dip in gates, Moores tried to raise more cash. One of his solutions was to bring corporate hospitality to Goodison, as well as more advertising boards around the pitch but the move experienced pushback.
“Fans didn’t like it,” says Gavin Buckland, who recently published a book entitled The End, which looks at some of the longer-term causes of Everton’s struggles. “They felt the boards intruded on their match day routine — an in-your-face commercialism.”
Attitudes haven’t changed much since, in part because successive Everton owners haven’t been able to expand Goodison which is hemmed into Walton’s warren of terraced streets. Under Kenwright, Everton played on that reputation of the plucky underdog punching above its weight; it was only when Moshiri, a Monaco-based British-Iranian steel magnate, arrived as co-owner in 2016 that the waters were muddied.
Under Moshiri, Everton became two clubs in one. Like Kenwright, Moshiri operated from London but unlike the theatre impresario, he had no natural connection with Merseyside. While Moshiri aimed for the stars, spending big on players and managers, Kenwright — who remained chairman and still had influence until his death last year — had a more corner-shop mentality. There was a lack of clarity over decision-making.
Enter Friedkin. Perversely, Everton’s fallen state is a major reason they represent such an attractive proposition to the San Diego-born businessman, who identified them as one of, if not the last, purchasable English football club where there is room for significant growth.
On Merseyside, there is some concern about what this might mean: Americans have tended to develop dubious reputations as owners of English football clubs due to their appetite for driving non-football revenues and seeing their investments as content providers.
Will the new stadium, for example, become a shopping mall experience, complete with hiked-up ticket prices? Buckland speaks of a “cliff edge”, where Everton are moving into a new home, necessitating new routines for matchgoing fans, while a new foreign owner with a reputation for keeping his distance gets his feet under the table. For some, all of this at once might be too much.
Given that Friedkin cannot claim to have played a leading role in the stadium move, he is likely to be judged quickly on the team that he delivers. Any new revenue-driving schemes will only float if fortunes improve on the pitch, otherwise his priorities will be questioned.
For proof, simply look across Stanley Park. In 2016, thousands of Liverpool fans walked out of Anfield in the 77th minute of a Premier League game against Sunderland after FSG announced that some ticket prices in the stadium’s new Main Stand would be priced at £77.
Liverpool had won just one trophy in six years of FSG ownership at that point and local fans, especially, felt like their loyalty was being exploited, given the organisation’s policy of investing its own money in infrastructure but not the team. The protest led to an embarrassing climbdown.
Liverpool was once described by the Guardian newspaper as the “Bermuda Triangle of capitalism”. It has since been framed absolutely as a left-wing city even though voting patterns suggest it should be described as a dissenting one. Its football supporters, whether blue or red, tend to confront perceived injustices, especially if it involves outsiders making money at the expense of locals, and even more so if they are not delivering on the pitch.
FSG were only able to buy Liverpool at a knockdown price, which its former American owner Tom Hicks described as an “epic swindle”, due to the response of the supporters who unionised themselves in an attempt to drive both Hicks and his partner George Gillett out following a series of broken promises, as the club veered dangerously towards deep financial problems from 2008.
“The missteps of Hicks and Gillett put power in the hands of the fans,” reminds Gareth Roberts from Spirit of Shankly, the fans group which is still active 16 years after its formation and which now has members on the club’s official supporters board. The latter became enshrined in Liverpool’s articles of association after FSG apologised for its leading role in the attempt to create a European Super League in 2021.
This came after several other high-profile PR blunders that eroded trust. It remains to be seen whether figures like John W. Henry, FSG and Liverpool’s principle owner, will listen to the board rather than pay lip service and carry on regardless with his own plans. Roberts says the ongoing challenge is “getting them to understand the culture”, and it does not help the relationship when Henry’s business partner, Tom Werner (Liverpool’s chairman), speaks so enthusiastically about taking Premier League fixtures away from Anfield and potentially hosting them in other parts of the world.
There was a time when either Everton or Liverpool’s local owner not showing at a match would dominate conversations in pubs and get reported in the local paper. Now, that only happens if they actually turn up.
Leading FSG figures usually fly in from Boston, Massachusetts, attending a couple of games a season — Werner was at Liverpool’s recent game against Real Madrid, while Henry was in the stands for the first home game of the season against Brentford. They appoint executives and dispatch them to Merseyside, or London, where the club has long had an office, to run the business on their behalf. Such individuals are under pressure to drive revenues as far as they can, in theory improving the economic possibilities of the team.
Roberts says ticketing is an especially thorny issue at Liverpool due to the popularity of the club. It feels like locals are under attack: that there is a race to get the richest person’s bum onto a seat.
As far as Roberts is concerned, a club that markets its image from the energy that Anfield occasionally creates is treading on dangerous ground. “The Kop still has power,” he insists. “But if you squeeze the fans and they drop off, there is a risk that the place gets filled with spectators rather than supporters and with that, you kill the golden goose.”
This, he adds, should act as a warning to Evertonians as they embark on their own American adventure.
Like Roberts, Liverpool metro mayor Steve Rotheram is a season ticket holder at Anfield and he understands such anxieties. In October, he spent a fortnight in North America exploring trade opportunities and the experience made him realise how powerful a brand Liverpool has abroad due to its connections with football and music, as well as its central role as a port in the movement of the Irish diaspora that spread across the Atlantic in the 19th century.
He says such history helps start conversations with American businesses from sectors like bioscience and digital innovation, which are now interested in investing in Merseyside due to the availability of land near the waterfront on both sides of the Mersey river, a hangover from the harsh economic measures of the 1980s and the decline that followed.
Rotheram says football, especially, plays a significant role in the visitor economy to the region, which in 2018 was worth £6.2billion. A thriving Everton playing at a stadium that does a lot more than host football matches every fortnight has the potential to add to that pot. The site at Bramley-Moore promises to regenerate the area around it and, currently, there are small signs of that change. Now Everton’s immediate financial concerns have gone away, perhaps businesses hoping to move in can proceed with more confidence.
GO DEEPER
How Liverpool 2.01 was built – and FSG abandoned any plans to sell
To reach the third professional football club on Merseyside attracting American investment, you have to cross the river.
If Rotheram gets his way, a walkable bridge will connect Liverpool to Wirral, the home of Tranmere Rovers, and potentially boost the peninsula’s economy. But for the time being, there are just two transport options: a tunnel under the Mersey or, more pleasurably, a ferry which takes less than seven minutes to sail from the Pier Head, beneath the famous Liver Buildings, to Seacombe.
In the middle of this journey, as the ferry juts north, there is a different view of Everton’s new stadium, positioned between a scrapyard and a wind farm, both of which are in the shadow of a brooding tobacco warehouse that is the biggest brick building in the world. Everton’s new home is much closer to the city and might seem enormous from the land, glistening from whichever angle you look at it, but it does not dominate the skyline from the brown, scudding channels of the Mersey.
When the novelist Nathaniel Hawthorne sailed across the same stretch of water in 1854, he recalled a scene that he thought neatly captured the personality of the Liverpudlians he’d encountered over the previous six months, having been sent to the city as American consul.
There, on the ferry, was a labourer eating oysters using a jack knife taken from his pocket, tossing shell after shell overboard. Once satisfied, the labourer pulled out a clay pipe and started puffing away contentedly.
According to Hawthorne, the labourer’s “perfect coolness and independence” was mirrored by some of the other passengers. “Here,” Hawthorne wrote, “a man does not seem to consider what other people will think of his conduct but whether it suits his convenience to do so.”
Hawthorne did not specify whether the labourer was from Liverpool or the piece of land to the west now known as Wirral. To any outsider, the places and their residents tend to be viewed as one of the same.
On Merseyside, however, distinctions are made: Liverpudlians tend to identify themselves as tougher and sharper, while those from “over the water”, tend to have softer accents and are once removed from the struggles of the city.
In truth, both areas suffered in the late 1970s and 80s when unemployment ripped through its docks and shipyards. Whereas Liverpool’s city centre has been transformed in the decades since, the Wirral’s waterfront feels less promising. Whereas Liverpool has the Albert Dock, museums and a business district punctuated by glassy high rises, Wirral has very few distinguishable features from the river beyond its scaly, grey sea wall.
Three miles or so from the terminal in Seacombe lies Prenton, the home of Tranmere, a football club that returned to the Football League in 2018, having fallen on hard times since the early 1990s when it threatened to reach the Premier League.
That history is one of the reasons why an American consortium led by Tacopina has an application with the EFL to try and buy the club from former player, Mark Palios, who later acted as the chief executive of the English Football Association.
The Athletic reported in September that Tacopina was attempting to “harness the power of his celebrity contacts” to try to propel Tranmere up the divisions from League Two. In a report the following month, it was revealed on these pages that rapper A$AP Rocky and Las Vegas Raiders defensive end Maxx Crosby were two of the investors.
According to a source involved in the deal, who would like to remain anonymous to protect working relationships, there is a belief the takeover will be completed in early 2025. While the source suggests it has taken longer than expected to reach this point after an unnamed investor dropped out, The Athletic has been told separately that an unnamed investor’s application was rejected by the EFL. This led to the buying group trying to source a replacement. The EFL declined to comment.
Tacopina has been involved in Italian football for a decade, with mixed success. He knows Tranmere is not a sexy name but neither was Wrexham before they were taken over by the Hollywood actors Ryan Reynolds and Rob McElhenney in 2021. While Tranmere has a fight this season to retain its Football League status, Tacopina would be taking on a club that more or less breaks even.
Palios is naturally cautious. For years, he’s wanted to find a minority partner but interested parties have tended to find there isn’t much up-side for such investment. Palios has since been able to convince Tacopina that Tranmere has significant potential with a full takeover, that the club has geography on its side and could become the region’s third wheel.
More than 500,000 people live on the Wirral but the majority cannot get tickets for Liverpool or Everton. There is an interest in Tranmere but many Wirral residents are only would-be fans. That would surely change with an upwardly mobile team, as Tranmere were in the 1990s when it tried to reach the top flight and a packed Prenton Park witnessed a series of exciting cup runs.
Tranmere is worth around £20million in assets. Even if the club reached the Championship, the gateway to the Premier League, the value would increase significantly, potentially leaving Tacopina with a profit if he decided to sell. Importantly, the stadium is owned by the club and Tacopina would be inheriting that. Tacopina takes confidence from the stories of clubs like Bournemouth and Brentford, who are now established in the Premier League despite playing in similar-sized stadiums to Prenton Park (Bournemouth’s is actually considerably smaller) and with little history of success at the top level.
Prenton Park, however, does not have the facilities to generate much revenue outside of matchdays. In the boom of the early 90s, the venue was rebuilt on three sides but that did not include the main stand, which remains a relic of corrugated iron and brick. Lorraine Rogers, the chairperson before Palios, suggested the stand was costing Tranmere £500,000 a year to maintain. In 2021, a League Two game with Stevenage was postponed after a part of the roof flew off during a storm.
Palios has explored other stadium options. From the Mersey, the West float slipway leads to Bidston, where a site has been discussed but diehard fans are not enthusiastic about a move three miles away which would take the club away from its roots and potentially position it next to a waste plant, and where there are few pubs and transport links are limited.
Last summer, Palios suggested the zone was ripe for redevelopment in an interview with Liverpool Business News. “I advise my children, if ever they invest in property, invest in the south bank of the river,” he said. “As sure as apples fall from trees, this place is going to get developed.”
Any relocation, however, would need assistance from Wirral Waters as well as a council that for a decade has carefully been trying to manage its budgets due to cuts from central government. At the start of December, the Liverpool Echo reported that the council will be asking the government for a £20million bailout to prevent it from having to declare bankruptcy.
While it is generally accepted the Palios era is near an end and Tranmere needs to find a way to move forward, there is a wariness and some Tranmere supporters are questioning whether they want someone who has represented Trump in a rape trial running their club.
Matt Jones, the presenter of the Trip to the Moon podcast, speaks of “excitement, curiosity and fear”. Two years ago, he tracked down Bruce Osterman, Tranmere’s previous American owner (and the first in English football), to San Francisco.
Osterman told Jones that in 1984, he was able to complete a takeover because Tranmere were “days away from shutting its doors”. Yet Osterman was humble enough to admit that he was ill-prepared for the challenges that followed, despite investing £500,000 in cash. “I didn’t know what the hell I was doing,” he admitted. “I had no experience in this area. I was a trial lawyer… I had no understanding of the history, or where we were going.”
Osterman says that if he had his time again, he “would probably have paid more attention to the team’s relationship with the community”. Over the next three and a half years, Tranmere’s financial position became bleaker and he ended up selling the club at a loss to Palios’ predecessor Peter Johnson, the son of a butcher who became a millionaire businessman in the food industry.
Johnson ended up buying Everton where he was much less popular. His story is a reminder that it is not just American owners who move around clubs, as Friedkin has. Johnson grew up a Liverpool fan, an inconvenient factoid which put him on the back foot at Goodison, where he encountered suspicious minds and hardened attitudes.
Cynicism is deeply embedded among Everton fans, who might wonder how long it will take for their club to see the benefits of being at a new stadium and under new ownership.
Yet Friedkin’s arrival potentially draws a line under much of the uncertainty. Simon Hart, a journalist and author who has written extensively about the club, speaks about the last few years being battered by “existential concerns relating to the club’s future to the extent you are largely numb, hoping just to survive. The impression that Friedkin seems reasonably sensible and hasn’t destroyed Roma is something to grasp and be grateful for.
“At the moment, the thing that needs answering is whether Everton can go into the new stadium as a Premier League club that is secure. There is a sense that anything that keeps the club alive is acceptable.”
Excitement is not the right word but relief might be. Hart thinks Goodison is irreplaceable, a venue where the terraces hang over the pitch and some of the timberwork dates back to the Victorian era. It is as much a part of the club’s identity as the Liver Buildings are to Liverpool. A departure inspires mixed emotions that swirl around the freezing reality that Everton has not won a trophy of any kind since 1995.
As the years pass and the record extends, it becomes harder to escape. Hart describes Goodison as his “special place”, but it feels like “disappointment is soaked into every brick now”. He attended the 0-0 draw with Brentford in November when the visiting team were down to 10 men and it felt as though Goodison was weighed down by negative emotion.
Perhaps their new home allows the club to embrace a fresh start and, as he puts it, “allow Evertonians to look forward rather than back.”
(Top image: Getty Images/Design: Eamonn Dalton)
Culture
Notre Dame rolls past Indiana in College Football Playoff opening game: What’s next?
By Pete Sampson, Joe Rexrode and Seth Emerson
SOUTH BEND, Ind. — No. 7 Notre Dame cruised past No. 10 Indiana 27-17 in the first game of the 12-team College Football Playoff on Friday night. The Fighting Irish advance to play No. 2 Georgia in the Sugar Bowl on Jan. 1.
Two interceptions in the first three drives and a 98-yard touchdown run by Notre Dame running back Jeremiyah Love got the first on-campus Playoff game off to a dramatic start. But the fireworks fizzled from there, particularly for the Hoosiers, until they finally reached the end zone twice in the final two minutes to shrink the margin of defeat. Still, Indiana was held to its second-lowest scoring output of the season and was held to 278 yards of offense to Notre Dame’s 394. Indiana gained just 63 yards rushing to Notre Dame’s 193.
Fighting Irish quarterback Riley Leonard went 22-for-32 with 201 yards and one touchdown with another 30 yards and a score on the ground. But it was the effort of Notre Dame’s defense to stop Indiana’s usually high-powered offense that set this one apart.
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The Athletic’s analysis:
Notre Dame’s defense dominates
Notre Dame opened the season asking its defense to carry it, which it did just about every week through Thanksgiving. The Irish asked their defense to do the same to open the postseason. Again, it answered the bell, holding Indiana to 17 points as the Hoosiers barely threatened the goal line short of a first-quarter drive that ended with a Xavier Watts interception.
It was a near-perfect game plan from defensive coordinator Al Golden, who turned up the pressure on Kurtis Rourke early and never let the Indiana quarterback get comfortable. Notre Dame’s defensive line had a lot to do with that, as the return of Howard Cross from an ankle sprain overwhelmed Indiana’s offensive line. Even though the Irish lost defensive tackle Rylie Mills and defensive end Bryce Young during the game due to injury, it didn’t matter much.
Indiana, the nation’s No. 2 scoring offense during the regular season at 43.3 points per game, had no chance.
The performance put to bed Notre Dame’s struggles at USC three weeks ago when the Irish were picked apart through the air until ending the game with back-to-back pick sixes. The performance was enough to wonder if Notre Dame had finally been stretched too thin, relying on underclassmen in the secondary with a pass rush losing steam.
Not exactly.
Indiana barely took shots against Notre Dame.
The Irish will be tested at a new level against Georgia in the Sugar Bowl and the growing injury list will be a concern. But in the final home game of the season, Notre Dame put another performance on tape to suggest it has a national championship-level defense. — Sampson
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Sampson: Notre Dame knows who it is. It can change how others see it against Georgia
Indiana had an incredible season, but Ohio State and Notre Dame pulled off the mask
Curt Cignetti’s Hoosiers don’t need to apologize for making the College Football Playoff with an 11-1 record. The CFP committee doesn’t have to apologize, either. Indiana played dominant football for most of the season, against a schedule that looked much more difficult than it ended up being. But Notre Dame’s romp in tandem with the Hoosiers’ 38-15 loss at Ohio State combine to tell the story of a team that couldn’t hang up front against supremely talented defenses. Michigan exposed that offensive line a bit in its loss at Indiana as well. Kurtis Rourke had little time to throw and missed some he needed to make on the rare occasions he was able to scan the field.
It was a historic, spectacular debut season for Cignetti. It ended with a reminder that a program with this history producing a true national title contender in one year simply isn’t realistic. — Rexrode
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Rexrode: Indiana deserved its Playoff bid even if its schedule helped it get there
What’s next? Georgia in the Sugar Bowl
Kirby Smart noticed what Notre Dame fans were yelling while the Georgia coach appeared on ESPN’s “College GameDay” on Friday afternoon: “We want Georgia! We want Georgia!”
“They gotta win this one first,” Smart replied, smiling, amid the booing.
Notre Dame won, setting up a marquee matchup that harkens to Georgia history, and Smart’s tenure.
It’s a redux of the 1981 Sugar Bowl, when Georgia won its second-ever national title. Then in 2017, it was at Notre Dame where Smart launched his program with a one-point win, on its way to an unexpected run to the national championship game. Georgia won the rematch in Athens two years later, though it was also close.
That was when Brian Kelly was the coach. Georgia is still essentially the same talent-laden, physical SEC program, just with a more modern passing offense. The question is how far Marcus Freeman has taken a Notre Dame program that has wilted in the postseason before.
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Who does Georgia want to play: Notre Dame or Indiana?
The Fighting Irish are a physical team. The Bulldogs haven’t had their usual dominance in the trenches but much of that was because of injuries, and now they’re as healthy as they’ve been all year.
Georgia’s defense is predicated on stopping the run and taking its chances against the pass. But it’s been susceptible to edge runs this year, so one has to imagine the cringe Smart felt watching Love go 98 yards down the left sideline. Love probably won’t outrun Georgia’s defensive backs like that, but he could get a lot of chunk plays on the outside. Georgia has also been susceptible to dual-threat quarterbacks, so Leonard’s feet could be a headache.
Then again, so could new Georgia quarterback Gunner Stockton in his first college start. Stockton vs. Notre Dame’s solid secondary will also be interesting. Georgia does figure to have much better skill position players than Indiana, especially with tailbacks Trevor Etienne and Nate Frazier.
All in all, it’s a hard game to predict. During Smart’s appearance, ESPN’s Rece Davis pointed out that Notre Dame has never beaten Georgia. That’s true, but all three games have been decided by one possession. No one should be surprised if the fourth matchup is just as close. — Emerson
GO DEEPER
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(Photo: Michael Reaves / Getty Images)
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