"I don't wanna sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don't wanna sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or ... process anything sold, bought ... or processed, or repair anything sold, bought or processed, ya know, as a career, I don't wanna do that. So uh, my father's in the army ... he wants me to join ... but I can't work for that corporation. Umm, so, what I've been doing lately is kickboxing."
-- John Cusack as Lloyd Dobler in Say Anything.

Remember that flick? (Whatever happened to Ione Skye anyway?). Well, if you do, you remember that, according to Lloyd, kickboxing was going to be the sport of the '90s.

Me? I remember that soccer was going to be the sport of the '80s. That's what we convinced ourselves of in high school, anyway. Those guys playing football and hoops were wasting their time. It was going to be us, the soccer guys, who made it big.

We're smarter now. We know you don't change a culture in 10 years' time, not even if you prove you can sell massive amounts of tickets to men's and women's World Cups and qualifiers and MLS championship games. You don't hear anyone saying "Soccer is the sport of the new millennium." And, for that, I am happy.

For now and, I suspect, forever, soccer in America is soccer in America. And that's not a bad thing or a good thing or a great thing or a terrible thing.

It's just what it is.

I think about this all the time.

I thought about it when Jamar Beasley was traded from New England to Chicago for a "conditional" draft pick this week. I thought of headlines back in '98 calling Jamar "The Kobe Bryant of MLS," because he was signing with MLS's Project 40 out of high school ... the only difference being Kobe immediately started earning mega-millions while Jamar started earning $24,000 -- barely enough to live on.

Looking back, I wonder if those headlines were a little much for Jamar.

I had lunch a few years ago with Jamar and his little brother DaMarcus (now of the Chicago Fire) at an Applebee's in their hometown of Fort Wayne, Ind. I was doing a little feature on them and their part in Project 40 for The Magazine's annual "Next" issue. Both Beasleys talked of their desire to play "at the highest level" (translated: Europe), and of using MLS as a springboard.

That was in '99. In the two years since, DaMarcus' stock has risen (he just signed a new deal with MLS that locks him up through 2005) while Jamar's has fallen. In the process, some flaws have been exposed in the Project 40 program. For as much as the league calls Pro-40 a "developmental" program, all it takes is one desperate coach, like New England's former player-manager Walter Zenga, to botch the whole thing up.

In '99, as the Revs teetered on the brink of playoff extinction, Zenga decided it was more important to keep Jamar around as a late-game reserve than to allow him to play full games for the Project 40 team in the A-League.

Sure, Jamar probably gained something from practicing with the big boys. But when he was thrown into games with five or 10 minutes remaining, with the Revs pounding Hail Mary passes upfield and hoping his speed could result in a goal, he learned very little about how to play the game. To be a real player, you need to learn about the flow of a game, how to use the element of surprise as a weapon. You don't learn much when the game becomes nothing but a 10-minute fight for survival. No doubt it was a setback.

There was nothing MLS could do about the situation, though I know a few league execs were not happy with Zenga. But they can't tell a coach how to use one of his players.

So last season, Revolution coach Fernando Clavijo inherited the Jamar Beasley left behind by Zenga, instead of a young player who'd had a year-plus to develop. Clavijo gave Jamar more than a few chances, both as a forward and a midfielder. Predictably, he found out Jamar was inconsistent, and naïve to the emotional ups and downs of professional soccer.

This season, with rosters cut down from 19 to 18 and the Revs a bit top-heavy with forwards and midfielders, Clavijo needed more than a "project" on his bench. So the Revs decided it was best to move him to the Fire, where he can play with DaMarcus, and be closer to Fort Wayne. The ironic thing is, this time, the Revs took Jamar's development into consideration. They realized his minutes were going to be few and far between, and they felt he was owed this chance -- perhaps his last -- to play.

Who knows where it will all lead. But one thing's for certain -- there are no Kobe Bryants in MLS. Geez, there aren't even any Jamie Feicks. When talking about American soccer players, with only a few exceptions, we're talking working stiffs. A lot of post-college kids living three-to-an apartment, a lot of young adults living on a tight budget. The best of the best may make a decent living in the game. The rest will just have memories.

Jamar is now 21, and even though some have labeled his first three years in MLS a failure, there's still plenty of time for him to become a productive player. If he works hard, learns to play to his strengths, becomes more decisive, etc., he's got a chance.

But, let's just say he does all those things. Where does that leave him? Well, it leaves him among the blue collar ranks of his peers. Hopefully, he'll be happy he's not selling, buying or processing anything as a career.

As I said before, that's soccer in America. Not a bad thing or a good thing or a great thing or a terrible thing. It's just what it is.

These Boots were made for running

I know, I know, by now, you think all I do is sit in front of the TV, watching Behind the Music, E True Hollywood Story, John Hughes movies on TBS and the MLS ESPN Shootout Package on DISH network. Well, you're almost right.

The other thing I've been doing, since mid-December anyway, is training for the Boston Marathon, which happens to be this coming Monday. Now, I know what all you citizens of Boot Room Nation (aka Big Gulp drinkers) are thinking ... "Monday is supposed to be a Boot Room day!" Well, maybe we can help each other out.

I'll be giving my thoughts on MLS from the road (literally) from Hopkinton, Mass. to Copley Square, along with sharing whatever Journey songs and famous Judd Nelson lines might be banging around in my head.

If there's something you want to ask me to keep my mind off the pain, e-mail me at jeff.bradley@espnmag.com. Alright, I'll see you at the finish line.