The Chosen One

Marinaro, though, is almost absurdly down-to-earth, a shy man who often seems embarrassed by the small amount of attention he receives. "He's somewhat of an exception, because some of the characteristics you do see -- a selfishness, self-centeredness, that everything revolves around them -- I never witnessed that with Hector," says Merrick. "He was always humble to the game."

What Marinaro does have is uncanny instincts. Like great chess players, he is able to think several moves ahead, a skill that is partly the product of genetic hardwiring, partly from his exposure to both soccer and hockey at a young age.

"He knows the game," says Miller. "He knows when to go left, when to go right, when to sneak into a spot. He's got great vision. His overall comprehension of what's going on on the field is up there in the elite group of players."

It wasn't until he arrived in Minnesota that anyone noticed, though. When a teammate went down with an injury, Marinaro stepped in. Eventually paired on a line with one of the team's most flamboyant players, David Byrne, Marinaro was quickly transformed. "Hector and [Byrne] just linked," says Miller. "It was amazing."

But it was more than just finding the right position, says Rob Marinaro: "When he knew the Force wasn't coming through, it was almost like he wanted more than anything to prove them wrong. And that was the big turning point. It was the motivation that 'I am going to prove to you guys I am good enough to play.'"

Soon, it didn't matter who he played with. He seemed able to score anytime, a change that was reflected in his stats. In his first year with the Strikers, Marinaro scored 17 goals. In his second year, 58.

When the Strikers folded at the end of the 1988 season, Marinaro went to Los Angeles, where he scored 47 goals in one season with the L.A. Lazers.

He came to Cleveland the next year. It was not a difficult choice: The Lazers had folded, and Marinaro was looking for a home. It was close to his family in Toronto. He remembered how supportive fans had been when he made his debut with the Force, which -- like its counterparts in Minnesota and L.A. -- had folded in 1988. In its place, Haaskivi and former Force General Manager Al Miller had established a new franchise, the Crunch.

During his first three years in Cleveland, Marinaro scored more than 150 goals. Equally impressive was the Crunch's success. In 1990, the team finished last in its division. The next year, the team finished first. In its first playoff appearance, the Crunch went to the league finals, eventually losing to the San Diego Sockers in six games.

Marinaro and Zoran Karic became only the second pair of teammates to score more than 100 points in a season. Karic was named a first-team all-star; Marinaro was honorable mention.

It was the beginning of the most productive scoring tandem in indoor soccer history. Over the next nine years, the pair would set new marks for almost every offensive category: points, goals, assists. "They made the franchise," says George Hoffman, who owned the Crunch from 1989 to 2000. "The other players were always important, but it gave the community the dynamic duo."

In 1994, the Crunch was loaded with both talent and attitude. Marinaro scored 113 goals; Karic collected 104 assists. The team went 23-17, strutting through the playoffs. That March, the Crunch gave Cleveland its first professional sports championship since 1964, downing the St. Louis Ambush in a best-of-five series. Marinaro still considers it the best moment of his career. "It was something for the whole city to be proud of."

Over the next few years, the team seemed to get only better. The Crunch played with delightful arrogance -- blowing teams out and scoring an ungodly number of points. In a 1997 game against Columbus, the Crunch scored 53 points. A second championship came in 1996, a third in 1999.

Winning became a given, a routine so steady that even coaches feared disrupting it. "When I came in, the team went like 22-2 to start off," says Miller of the 1995-'96 season. "I didn't even know what I was doing, to be honest with you. It was just an amazing team."

It was also extremely volatile. There were fistfights in practice, scuffles in the locker room. Much of the tumult surrounded Karic, a fiery competitor who was probably the game's best passer. He was brusque and emotional, subject to tirades and tantrums. During one game, when Cleveland was getting beaten badly by Detroit, he became so angry, he chased the referee around the arena, for which he was promptly booted.