When the Cosmos went wild
Ex- Man City man Dennis Tueart watched the madness unfold
“Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to the New York Cosmos’ newest soccer star...... Dennnissss Tuuuearrrrtttt!”
From the moment Manchester City’s former forward was blinded by flash bulbs outside the Time Warner building on Rockefeller Plaza in February 1978, he realised this was a very different ball game.
The affable Geordie had played six times for England, helped Sunderland win the 1973 FA Cup Final and scored a superb overhead kick to claim the 1976 League Cup for City – but New York was far removed from anything else he’d ever experienced.
“It seemed almost unreal that I was poised to play in the Big Apple – and inheriting Pele’s shirt,” Tueart tells Fourfourtwo, recalling the day his life turned upside down. “Few people can say they were bought as a replacement for the greatest footballer in the world.”
Tueart enjoyed two stellar years in Cosmos colours, dazzling next to World Cup- winning duo Franz Beckenbauer and Carlos Alberto at a time when the bankrolled New Yorkers were the planet’s biggest soccer story. “It was the first truly global, cosmopolitan football club,” explains Tueart, “and there was nothing else quite like it.”
Yet despite all the razzmatazz, he also saw the warning signs that the Cosmos roadshow would actually end up being little more than a short- term fling…
Tueart may have been frustrated over being increasingly left on the bench by Manchester City boss Tony Book, but he was also plagued by self- doubt when it came to leaving Blighty for foreign shores.
His nerves were soon settled, however, after paying a visit to the luxurious London home of sibling music moguls Ahmet and Nesuhi Ertegun. Ahmet had been the president of Atlantic Records in the 1960s, where he gave Led Zeppelin their big break and worked with artists like Otis Redding and Aretha Franklin. In 1967, the brothers agreed to sell Atlantic to Warner Brothers for $ 17 million, and a few years later co- founded their “dream team”: the Cosmos, alongside president of Warner Communications, Steve Ross.
There and then, Tueart was presented with a mouth- watering three- year contract worth £ 1,500 a week – paid by Warner – and given a $ 4,000 annual Nike deal. He flew out with wife Joan on Concorde.
“That was something else, especially when the horizon turned purple and I noticed MAC2 click up,” remembers Tueart. “It was all over in three hours, 18 minutes, which was barely enough time to enjoy my in- flight meal on the white china plates! It turned out that we were lucky to have taken off at all, because
there was the mother of all snowstorms over at JFK Airport. As we taxied into the terminal, the snow was piled up high on either side, like the parting of the Red Sea.”
The following day, shortly before his formal introduction to the American media, Tueart bumped into Cosmos coach Eddie Firmani in the toilets. “It was a bit embarrassing, as he had to introduce himself,” he chuckles.
To embrace the New York lifestyle, Tueart secured a swish apartment on the 36th floor of the Galaxy complex, with gorgeous views of the Manhattan skyline. “Five years earlier, I’d been sharing a bed at my parents’ flat in Newcastle,” continues the FA Cup and League Cup winner. “Then there was my car. I fancied going native, so I headed across to a Cadillac dealership on the corner of 52nd Street and Central Park. After sitting in several so big you could have had a game of five- a- side in them, I went for one of the newer models, a Seville. I had it in sky blue, because Manchester City were still in my blood. So, I had a big car and my plush apartment sorted. Now it was time to get to work.”
Initially, the weather in New York was so bad that the Cosmos decamped to Bermuda for pre- season. It gave Tueart plenty of time to acquaint himself with his new colleagues, including a baffled Beckenbauer.
“On the way to training, we passed a school where the students were playing cricket and Franz was inquisitive,” says Tueart. “I spent the rest of the journey attempting to explain the rules to him, bearing in mind he’d been following baseball in New York. I failed badly. He kept asking questions like ‘ why are there two hitters instead of one?’ and ‘ why, if you have 11 people playing, are you all out after 10 are dismissed?’”
When the Cosmos played a friendly against the Chicago Sting at Giants Stadium, Tueart pulled a hamstring during the warm- up. “The first generation astroturf was barely fit for purpose – it was like playing on concrete,” he winces. “The bounce was unpredictable, and for a good few weeks I really struggled with that element of the game.”
Worst of all were the friction burns. “Whether you slid in for a challenge or were sent flying, you’d inevitably pick one of those up,” he laments. “Red and raw – they weren’t pleasant. I’d be in agony for days, and when anyone or anything touched the burn, I’d hit the ceiling. Within weeks, I had considerably less skin on my legs than I’d had at City.”
Tueart did finally make his league debut in March, though, trotting out against the Dallas Tornado in front of more than 50,000 fans. Better still, he bagged his first goal with a diving header in the Cosmos’ 3- 1 win.
“IT SEEMED UNREAL THAT I WAS INHERITING PELE’S SHIRT – FEW PEOPLE CAN SAY THEY REPLACED THE BEST PLAYER IN THE WORLD”
The Tynesider’s maiden season went well, and the New York crowds – who demanded effort, hard running and total commitment for the full 90 minutes – appreciated Tueart’s buccaneering style. The conference play- off semi- finals offered him first- hand experience of that, when the Cosmos faced Minnesota Kicks on a surface laid out over a baseball diamond. After just 12 minutes, Tueart chased a through- ball, collided with the goalkeeper and was taken off. His team were devoured 9- 2.
Fortunately for New York, aggregate scores didn’t count in the NASL. So, shortly before the second leg at Giants Stadium, Steve Ross turned up in a huge limo with senior Warner execs to rally his shell- shocked stars. “Steve said he’d been at a conference on the west coast with 750 Warner delegates discussing their latest project, the new Superman film,” explains Tueart. “Those delegates were more interested in talking about the Cosmos’ 9- 2 hammering than the project. ‘ I don’t like to be embarrassed,’ he said. Then he spent the next 10 minutes telling us they had paid top dollar for the best, that we were the best and they expected results. If anyone didn’t want to be a part of that, he said, ‘ You should talk to the coach and they’ll deal with it’. It was the best motivational speech I ever heard.”
Fired up, the Cosmos smashed Minnesota 4- 0, with Tueart scoring twice and assisting Giorgio Chinaglia’s opener. After a 15- minute sudden death mini- game which ended 0- 0, it went to a deciding shootout – five runs on goal each from the 35- yard line.
“I thought that was a fantastic innovation in the NASL, because it gave attacking players – who had five seconds to score – the chance to parade their skills in front of the crowds,” says Tueart. Trailing 1- 0 in the shootout, it all came down to Carlos Alberto. The Brazilian placed the ball down, flicked it up in front of him and dribbled towards goal with his knee, before nonchalantly lifting it over the keeper. The 60,000 home fans went into a frenzy.
Beckenbauer’s decisive dash and driven finish eventually won the tie. “Normally the epitome of Teutonic cool, Franz showed his delight by running around punching the air,” laughs Tueart. “That was the longest match I was involved in, and as tense as anything I ever saw in England.” Beyond the gimmicks, cheerleaders and gigantic screens, there was no substitute for class. “Franz was the best player I ever played alongside,” Tueart tells
FFT. “I found it remarkable that the Cosmos crowd grew restless whenever he pushed and probed in midfield. It showed that American supporters, however passionate, didn’t fully understand the game then. Not that Franz changed his approach.”
Following 1- 0 and 4- 0 successes against Portland Timbers in the Conference final, the Cosmos reached the Soccer Bowl against Tampa Bay Rowdies, which was scheduled to take place at Giants Stadium. The anticipation for the showpiece was huge in New York, and almost 75,000 people turned up to see the spectacle. Tampa Bay’s star was Rodney Marsh, Tueart’s old foe from his Manchester City days. “Rodney and I didn’t get on,” shrugs Tueart. “When someone said Rod was the ‘ white Pele’, Rod said that
Pele might actually be the ‘ black
Rodney Marsh’. I cringed when I heard him say that.
It was a classic case of Rodney attention seeking again.” English journalists who flew across the pond to see the face- off were left disappointed, though: Marsh didn’t play, amid conflicting rumours that he wanted more money or was nursing an injury.
The Cosmos’ essential ABC TV deal meant the game was broadcast coast to coast on a Sunday afternoon, ensuring millions could see Tueart bag a brace as his team won 3- 1 to claim the 1978 Soccer Bowl. “I received my MVP trophy several days later – a pure silver replica of the famous Cutty Sark ship from former FIFA president Sir Stanley Rous,” says Tueart. “I felt like that justified my decision to move to New York.”
A- list celebrities like Steve Mcqueen, Barbra Streisand and Sammy Davis Jr swarmed the Cosmos stars when they were in Manhattan. “Bjorn Borg and I discussed the razzmatazz which surrounded us, and he was sanguine about what ‘ being famous’ actually meant,” says Tueart. “I got the impression that Bjorn was never entirely comfortable being part of the circus, and he walked away from tennis when he was only 26.”
Cosmos executives loved it, however, and booked a top- floor suite at Madison Square Garden so that their players could watch the 1978 World Cup. “Mick Jagger and Jerry Hall walked in once,” says Tueart. “Mick was like one of the lads – he exchanged a little bit of football chit- chat, but just wanted to watch the game. He and Jerry sat cross- legged on the floor, and every so often they’d pop off to the toilet together. Who knows what was going on there...”
There were also nights out at the famous Studio 54, and pool parties at Carlos Alberto’s rooftop apartment. Says Tueart: “Pele arrived one time wearing this pristine white suit, so some of the boys quickly grabbed him by the arms and legs, ready to launch him into the water. He was laughing, but told them to take off his gold watch first.”
Arguably, the biggest A- lister in town – in his own mind at least – was one of the club’s own galacticos in Chinaglia, the combustible Welsh- Italian former Lazio striker. “The thing you had to accept with Giorgio was that he had a big ego,” smiles Tueart. “Gargantuan, in fact. He had to be top boss. We dovetailed perfectly on the pitch as he had an insatiable hunger to score goals. In heated discussions, he had a tendency to stand up and say, ‘ I am Chinaglia!’ in his grandiose manner, which he believed gave him the divine right to end the debate there and then.”
But what do they say about all good things? Although Tueart’s second season Stateside started well, there were ominous rumblings off the field. Manager Firmani was replaced by Pele’s advisor, Professor Julio Mazzei, and Tueart sensed that his US sojourn might be nearing its conclusion.
Visa regulations meant the Cosmos’ foreign imports could only remain in the country for six months of the year, so at the end of each NASL campaign their icons headed on tour to help market the brand. In 1979, Tueart & Co prepared to schlepp around south- east Asia and Australia on a long- haul roadshow. The Cosmos took $ 50,000 per match and players would be left climbing the walls of their hotel less than an hour before kick- off, waiting until the money was wired to Warner executives. “It took all the spontaneity out of playing and made it difficult to focus,” says Tueart.
The footballing Harlem Globetrotters played 13 games in six weeks across seven nations. “I’d wake up in the morning and sometimes struggle to remember what country I was in,” admits Tueart. “We frequently connected our flights through Singapore, and I began to feel that I was almost on nodding terms with the customs and immigration personnel.”
On tour, New York’s players were given their expenses in cash. “Everyone was just carrying more and more of it around,” reveals Tueart. “I kept mine in my suitcase as we didn’t have any access to banks. It was an increasingly rootless existence.”
At the end of the 1979 junket, with Cosmos players expected back in the Big Apple via Los Angeles, a disgruntled Tueart walked over to the British Airways desk in Sydney, pulled out a roll of dollar bills and paid for a first- class ticket to London. His Cosmos career was over.
By March 1980, he was back at a growingly gloomy Maine Road – City’s expensive new signings Steve Daley and Steve Mackenzie had struggled to live up to their massive fees under manager Malcolm Allison. “It wasn’t the club I’d left a couple of years earlier, and I was back to earth with a bump,” says Tueart ruefully. Meanwhile, when the Cosmos failed to land another lucrative TV contract, Warner Communications pulled the plug. Without the oxygen of publicity, the club – and by the mid- 80s, the whole league too – collapsed like a house of cards.
More than four decades on, though, Tueart is appreciative of his New York episode. “I had the chance to visit places I might otherwise have never seen – the Empire State Building, Chinatown, Bloomingdale’s, Macy’s: all these things I’d only seen in films became a natural part of my life,” he concludes. “It did feel like I was in a movie at times.”
The Cosmos may have crashed and burned, but those vivid scenes of the late- 70s made for quite the motion picture.