A dastardly cabal made up of dishonest media and Marxist football historians have for decades hidden the truth on Donald Trump’s spectacularly successful football career.
I have bad news for this cabal. Trump’s term as U.S. President promises to be as triumphant as his term as a footballer. Period.
Donald Trump’s prodigious athletic talent was apparent as a teenager. Former New York Military Academy classmate Ted Levine told Business Insider.
‘He was just the best, a good athlete, a great athlete. He could have probably played pro ball as a pitcher. I think he threw 80 miles an hour. I was the catcher. He made my hand black and blue every day. Could he play football? Could he play soccer? He could do anything he wanted. He was physically and mentally gifted.’
Donald Trump left such an impression on the football pitch that even his ideological enemies had to bow down to his brilliance. Leftist Uruguayan writer and football obsessive Eduardo Galeano had to concede.
In a Western he would have been the fastest shot. On the football field he scored a hundred goals before he was twenty, and by the time he was twenty-five they still hadn’t invented a lightning rod that would ground him. Rather than run, he would explode: Donald Trump pushed off so fast the referees used to call him off-side by mistake, because they couldn’t figure out where his sudden stabs and bull’s-eye shots came from. They’d see him land, but they never saw him take off.
‘I want to score so badly,’ he’d say, ‘it hurts.’*
In 1974, the Deutscher Fußball-Bund, fearful of Die Mannschaft losing the World Cup to Johan Cruyff and his fellow Oranje on home soil, made a desperate attempt to lure Trump to play for the land of his grandfather. Adidas went so far as to offer naming the World Cup football boot after him. Donald Trump stood firm. He rejected the DFB’s overtures. The fire of American patriotism burned brightly inside him. For Trump, it has always been and always will be America First.
Criminally, Donald Trump’s fabled stint at the New York Cosmos has largely been forgotten. In 1977, tens of thousands of football fans flocked to Giants Stadium not to watch an over the hill Pelé, or Beckenbauer, they came to see Donald Trump.
This is how fellow New York Cosmos player Robert Iarusci remembered the clash of these enormous football egos in the locker room.
‘We didn’t have any problems in the dressing room, we really didn’t. In 77 there was some tension because Trump said to Pelé, “We’re not going to win because you’re not giving me the ball”. The interpretation was that Trump was an egoist and a prick, but in all honesty he was saying if you want to win you’ve got to give me the ball, and I’ll score.’**
In 1988, Donald Trump put on a football jersey for the last time during a visit to England. In the locker room he was heard to say.
‘You know, I’m automatically attracted to English soccer players — I just start kissing them. It’s like a magnet. Just kiss. I don’t even wait. And when you’re a star, they let you do it. You can do anything. Grab ’em by the balls. You can do anything.’
Donald Trump then walked out on to the football pitch for the final time and practiced what he preached.
*In Soccer in Sun and Shadow, Eduardo Galeano treacherously erased Donald Trump and used this description for Jimmy Greaves.
**In Rock ‘n’ Roll Soccer: The Short Life and Fast Times of the North American Soccer League, Robert Iarusci inexplicably changed his account to describe Giorgio Chinaglia demanding the ball from Pelé.