In a hotel just outside Charleston, South Carolina, journalists from several countries, grown men and women who should have known better, lingered around the lobby, lining up to interview Freddy Adu. All of 14 years old, a few weeks away from his Major League Soccer (MLS) debut with DC United, already so globally famous that a crew from Sky Sports News were in the building. When we finally sat down to grill the boy child then ludicrously credited with changing the game in the US forever, he was charming and polite, answering questions about the challenges of celebrity at an age he should have been solely concerned with getting his homework done.
Over the following two decades, we saw Adu’s career get quickly shunted into the sidings, all the early promise gone from his game by his early 20s. One minute he was making television commercials with Pele and training with Manchester United, the next he was scratching around for trials all over the planet, flaming out in too many countries to mention. A tough watch, especially for those of us who had met the callow adolescent in South Carolina that evening. The way we merrily amplified his fame now seems exploitative and immoral. Everybody involved in the entire enterprise should be ashamed.
The story came to mind last week when the Philadelphia Union, where Adu once spent a couple of undistinguished seasons trying to salvage his career, announced the signing of Cavan Sullivan, 14, to his first professional MLS contract at just over $500,000 a year. The most striking aspect of the fanfare and media coverage was the giddy positivity of it all. Words like phenom, prodigy and wunderkind were thrown around with abandon. Youngest brother of an American international who plays for the Union, Sullivan – a left-footed playmaker routinely described as a generational talent – is such a blue-chip prospect Manchester City have contracted to buy him when he turns 18 and are supposedly describing him as the best player in the world in his age group. So far so much hyperbole.
The Union introduced the hometown kid to delighted fans at Subaru Park last Saturday night by having him pound the club’s ceremonial prematch drum. Then they lost to Orlando City, and their winless streak of five games might explain them hinting his first-team debut could come sooner rather than later. Everybody seems fine with that possibility. What could possibly go wrong? Nothing. Apparently. Not when there’s a lot of “if he’s good enough, he’s old enough” vibes about the place.
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“We’re not afraid to put Cavan on the field at any time when he’s ready,” said Jim Curtin, head coach of the Union. “He’ll get on the field on merit, first and foremost, but I’ll say it publicly: His debut is a lot closer than people may realise. Our team, whatever we need that week, he’ll be called upon quickly because he deserves it.”
Nobody seems unduly bothered by the fate of the last kid to be spun through the MLS hype machine in this manner at such a ridiculous age. Adu’s name has scarcely featured in dispatches, not even as a cautionary tale to offer some much-needed perspective. The Union seem more concerned with whether Sullivan’s selection for a night game might fall foul of Pennsylvania’s child labour laws than his long-term welfare. It says much for the dysfunctional culture around the sport that he is only the fifth-youngest player to turn pro in MLS. And that nobody thinks it in any way wrong that his older brother posted a 21-minute highlight reel of his goals on YouTube – when he was 12.
Despite the uniquely Irish name, Sullivan is eligible to play for Germany through a grandfather, Klaus Krippendorff, who was an eminent academic at the University of Pennsylvania, and for Bangladesh through his maternal grandmother. The other side of his family is steeped in the sport around Philly. His grandfather Larry was the long-time head coach at the University of Villanova; his father, Brendan, played professionally for years but never quite made it to MLS. On the other side, his mother, Heike, now a lawyer, also played collegiate soccer at Penn. The sort of rich bloodline that explains why Cavan is the fourth Sullivan brother to come through the Philadelphia Union academy.
[ Freddie Adu: a career proving much ado about nothingOpens in new window ]
Crucially, the Krippendorff branch of his family tree entitles him to a German passport that will smooth over work visa issues when he takes his immense talent to Europe. Even though he’s yet to kick a ball professionally, it’s already assumed a formative spell in Italy or Spain will be part of his arc to inevitable greatness before he joins City. Heady talk. Of course, Sullivan may turn out to be everything he’s supposed to be. The humble kid (fair description) came across very well last week. Then again, the unfortunate Adu was definitely gifted and appeared extraordinarily well adjusted when he first stepped into the limelight. Still, too much too young.
Leeds United took on Manchester City in the FA Youth Cup final last Friday night deprived of the club’s most highly regarded teen. Harry Gray, grandson of Frank, younger brother of first-teamer Archie, was ineligible to participate in the flagship under-18 competition because he didn’t turn 15 until last October. Rules put in place to protect precocious kids from professional clubs exploiting them and endangering their long-term prospects. Imagine such a thing.
