BALTIMORE BLAST TIM WITTMAN--LOCAL STAR, FIERCE COMPETITOR
Wittman's Drive To Succeed Has Not Diminished
By Staci Wolfson, Press Box 5/12/09
If Cal Ripken Jr. conjures images of baseball and Johnny Unitas brings up memories of football, Tim Wittman might be the name synonymous with soccer in Charm City.
From playing for the Baltimore Blast to coaching the team, and from guiding the Johns Hopkins women's soccer team to exploring new opportunities for outdoor soccer in Maryland, Wittman has been an integral part of the game in Baltimore.
"That's what I do," he said. "It's like walking for me. It's easy, and it's something I love to do. I've got a passion for it, and I'll continue doing it."
After learning the game from two older brothers, Wittman took his soccer skills to Calvert Hall College High School, where he became a two-time All-American. Once he graduated, he looked for the opportunity to play professional soccer.
The Tampa Bay Rowdies of the outdoor North American Soccer League drafted him immediately, and although the league folded before Wittman had the chance to play in it, he knew it had opened the right doors.
"I remember getting that call from an English guy," he said. "He asked me if I was interested in playing professional soccer and he asked me how much money I wanted. And I picked up the phone, didn't have an agent or anything, and I said I don't care. I'll just play.
"So I knew that was my ticket, my card. Now I can go indoor, I can go outdoor, I could do what I wanted then. And that was probably one of the highlights. Because I knew everything I worked toward was coming about. Now I knew I had become a professional player."
When Wittman joined the Blast for the 1981 season, he was one of only a handful of Americans in the original Major Indoor Soccer League. The strongest soccer league in the United States at the time, the MISL was made up mostly of European and South American players.
On the Blast squad, Wittman was one of only two Baltimoreans playing in their home city. Nick Mangione, a member of the inaugural 1980 roster, was the other.
"As a Baltimore soccer player, you looked up to Timmy," said Jason Dieter, a Baltimore native who played 10 seasons for the Blast. "He was a role model because he came from your area, and I think as his career went on, more and more people got to know who he was. … It also gave all the players here younger than him hope that they could get to the same point that he got to through all the hard work that he put in."
Wittman's playing career with the Blast was a successful one. He played nine seasons with the MISL team, and three when the team became a member of the National Professional Soccer League as the Baltimore Spirit.
Over the course of his playing career, Wittman was part of the franchise's first championship during the 1983-84 season. Second in all-time scoring for the original Blast, the three-time All-Star earned Most Valuable Player honors in 1988 and was named to the 1980-90 All-Decade team. He was inducted into the Blast Hall of Fame in 2005.
As Wittman's playing career began to wind down, he looked to coaching as the next step, taking the reins from Bobby McAvan in 2003.
"I felt like I went through kind of a hard time and I wanted to make it easier on other players, and I always took the time out to help younger players, coaching-wise," Wittman said. "And I just like it. Anything to do with the game, I wanted. Once you're done playing, the next best thing to playing would be coaching."
As an assistant coach in 2003, Wittman helped lead the team to its second title, and as head coach in '04 he led the Blast to a third championship.
"I just think he's such a spunky guy, you can't help but feed off that energy," Walker said. "He's the first one to yell and scream, and once you feel that intensity he brings to the table, you can't help but play that way."
"Just his love for the game and his passion for the game and his enthusiasm for the game, it's just infectious," said Leo Weil, head coach of the Johns Hopkins women's soccer team. "I think any time anybody's around him for any period of time, they're going to pick all that up. He's just a great ambassador for the sport."
Walker said one of Wittman's best qualities as a coach was knowing how to help players maximize their physical abilities. But it was also in the way Wittman carried himself without speaking that delivered a strong message.
"What he taught me, and something that it took me a while to learn, is not to be afraid to be who you are, as a player and as a person," Dieter said. "The kind to go out there and just take your own personal level to the highest that you can and not be afraid to do that, not be afraid to make mistakes and really not to have any regrets.
"Timmy was a guy that marched to his own beat, but at the end of the day he always put a product out there that represented himself as a player, as a hard-working guy who always showed up to play for his team and his coaches and the fans."
Although Wittman's coaching career with the Blast ended when he was suspended for an altercation with an official following a 2006 matchup against the California Cougars, he has transferred his brash, all-out style into other aspects of his life.
If fans could no longer find him on the field, they could look for him working on any one of his other ventures. Following his soccer career, Wittman delved into real estate, personal training and owning health clubs. He even opened a smoothie shop with Walker.
"He treats everything with the same intensity," Walker said. "I think that's why he's successful as a person. That same intensity he shows on the field or when he's coaching or when he's teaching, he is that same way in life."
"That's my problem, that's why I get in trouble -- too much energy," Wittman said. "But I'm not a nine-to-five person, I never have been. I just can't sit behind a desk. That's just not my personality. I can't sit behind a desk, and I won't sit behind a desk. As far as working hours, I have no problem working 12 hours, 15 hours, but I can't sit behind a desk. I like coming up with different ideas, seeing them come through and then going to the next thing."
Wittman, now 45, is channeling his enthusiasm into his involvement in mixed martial arts. His love for soccer isn't gone, however; he is helping his 13-year-old son and 9-year-old daughter develop budding soccer careers, and he is getting ready for his second season as an assistant coach for the Johns Hopkins' women's team.
While Wittman was working as a personal trainer, a colleague mentioned the Blue Jays might have an opening for an assistant coach, and Wittman sent in his resume.
"I knew the name right away," Weil said. "I thought he was really overqualified and I sent him an e-mail back and basically said so. He wrote me back and said, 'Please give me a chance for an interview anyway,' and he came in and interviewed and I let our kids interview him and they really liked him."
"It was funny because I had an interview with the girls," Wittman said. "It was like five, six girls there. So I'm in the process thinking, 'What am I doing?' I'm being asked questions from these girls, and in the beginning it was like maybe this isn't my cup of tea. Is this really what I want to do? But then I thought the more I got involved in it, the more the questioning from the girls, their knowledge of the game, their desire to play, that sparked me. And that was all it took. If somebody has desire and they want to play, then I want to coach. And they did."
Under the Weil-Wittman coaching tandem last fall, the Blue Jays had their most successful season in the history of the program. Hopkins had its first undefeated season and earned a berth in the NCAA Sweet 16.
Although Wittman said he's happy for the team, he's applying the same philosophy to it he applied to his own playing career: reach one goal, then move on to the next. He is hoping to help bring a title to Hopkins this year.
"Athletes are so used to that high and you need that next high and that next high and that next high," he said. "For me, it's motivation. That goal gives you that motivation to keep on striving and striving and striving."
"He's done a lot, and I think part of it is that he's got that inner drive that nothing's going to keep me from going or doing what I want to do," Walker said. "And he finds ways, regardless of what it is, to get it done. That's how he treated his soccer playing, and I think that's how he treats his life. … No matter what, he puts his hands on it, and he just feels like nothing out there's going to stop him."
Incident in California deals heavy blow to homegrown soccer figure's legacy
Wittman loses more than cool
March 30, 2006 By JOHN EISENBERG, BALTIMORE SUN
Tim Wittman is a local sports legend, raised on the streets around Herring Run Park and the fields of Calvert Hall, a pro athlete at age 17, a fixture on the indoor soccer scene for more than a quarter century.
But a single burst of anger is threatening to tarnish his legacy.
On March 18, Wittman, an intensely competitive former All-Star who was then the head coach of the Blast, admittedly pushed one referee and put another in a chokehold at the end of a Major Indoor Soccer League game in Stockton, Calif.
He was arrested on a misdemeanor battery charge and later suspended for the rest of the 2005-06 season. The league and the U.S. Soccer Federation are investigating and contemplating further sanctions.
"It's a sad day to have this happen," said Ed Hale, the Baltimore businessman who owns the Blast, "because all the things he did just pretty much go away in an instant. He was a great player, an assistant coach, won a league title as a coach. But you're only as good as your last performance."
Hale said he doubts Wittman, 42, will return as the team's head coach.
"I don't think there's any way," Hale said. "Once you lay your hands on an official, I believe you're not going to be able to come back."
MISL commissioner Steve Ryan called it "a very serious incident - the most serious that has happened in the MISL, and maybe the most serious we have seen in soccer. That kind of conduct is totally unacceptable and has no place in pro or amateur sports."
Wittman, who operates a thriving real estate business, said yesterday, "I don't want people thinking this is something I do all the time. I have never done anything like this. But if this is it [for his career], I will move on and not look back. That's just how I am.
"I am fine with whatever happens. But I hope as [the league and federation] study this, they take the time to get the facts right and be fair. Because there is another side to this story than the one everyone is hearing."
Wittman's involvement in the altercation has surprised many in Baltimore's soccer community. Although he was known as a feisty player and coach, he seemed to know when to pull back.
"You couldn't see anything like this coming. He was an extremely physical player who competed hard, but he never crossed the line," said former Blast coach Kenny Cooper, who coached Wittman in the 1980s.
Mike Cichowicz, a retired Baltimore city policeman who played for Archbishop Curley High when Wittman played for Calvert Hall, said they competed hard for years on the field, but never fought.
"If he had it in him to go off like a firecracker, he would have gone off back then," Cichowicz said, "because I [was physical with] him. But he never did go off."
Wittman grew up on Bainbridge Avenue and excelled at soccer as soon as he started playing. He was small and fast, strong and relentless.
"If he played on your team, you loved him, but if he was on the other team, you hated him. He was a pain," Cichowicz said.
Wittman scored 54 goals for Calvert Hall, displaying so much potential that after graduation he fielded offers from two pro teams, the indoor Blast and outdoor Tampa Bay Rowdies. He went with the hometown team.
"We saw ourselves as a blue-collar team representing a hard-working town," Cooper said. "I had come from the streets of Liverpool [England]. We wanted guys like that. Timmy was a natural."
Knee injuries curtailed his early career, but then he came on. The Blast was in its heyday, attracting sellout crowds to what is now 1st Mariner Arena, and Wittman was the flashy homegrown star. He had rock star red hair, drove a Corvette and wore expensive suits.
But contrary to the image, he was no night owl.
"He was very disciplined," said his former roommate, Mark Mettrick, now the soccer coach at Loyola College. "Some of the English guys liked to go out and have some beers - maybe too many. He never did that. He was very committed to being in shape."
Though just 5 feet 8 and 145 pounds, Wittman worked out voraciously, practiced martial arts and brought a take-no-prisoners approach to the game.
"No one wanted to mess with him. Opposing players didn't want to mess with him," said former Blast general manager Drew Forrester, now a local radio talk show host. "He was one of those guys, when you sat around talking, people said, `Don't get him mad. He's a good guy, but don't get him mad.' "
His Blast career ended abruptly when he and Hale, who bought the team in 1989, had words during a 1991 team meeting. Wittman took offense at Hale's comments.
"He was swearing at me. He was escorted out of the building. I traded him that day," Hale said.
Wittman laughed last when his new team, San Diego, won a championship in his only season there. Then he returned home to play for a Baltimore indoor team known as the Spirit. Hale had sold the franchise.
After retiring as a player in 1995, Wittman started some businesses, married and had two children.
"The word that comes to mind is stable," Hale said.
Wittman reconciled with Hale and rejoined the Blast as an assistant coach in 2002, then became the head coach less than a year later.
"A lot of people came to me and said Tim would be a good coach. I figured, `Well, I've grown up a little, he's grown up a little, let's give this a shot,' " Hale said.
Wittman won an MISL championship as a rookie head coach in the 2003-04 season.
Although the Blast slumped last season and missed the playoffs, it rebounded this season and had locked up a playoff berth before the now-infamous game in Stockton.
Hale said he learned of the incident hours after it happened, when Blast general manager Kevin Healey phoned him early the next morning.
"I'm 59 years old and I've been around. Not much shocks me, but this gave me chills when I heard about it," Hale said. "This was my team, my employee. Obviously, if I thought anything like this were possible, I never would have hired him. But I've never heard of anything like this in any sport. He's got a fiery temper, but I didn't see this coming."
Wittman doesn't deny that he pushed Rob Planette, the penalty box attendant, and put his hands on the throat of the lead official, Terry Mashino, after the California Cougars' 8-6 victory over the Blast before 3,587 fans at the Stockton Arena.
But while conceding it "sounds bad" to have put his hands on one official, let alone two, Wittman said there were mitigating circumstances.
"First of all, the [penalty box attendant] wasn't wearing a uniform," Wittman said. "I thought he made a gesture to me, and I shoved him away, which started it all. My assistant [Tarik Walker] thought it was some guy coming out of the stands."
After he pushed Planette, Wittman said, several people descended on him, including Mashino.
"A bunch of people pushed me up against the glass, which was when I put the so-called chokehold on [Mashino]," Wittman said. "The fact of the matter is he came at me first. I was defending myself."
There is no video of the incident. Commissioner Ryan said his investigation's findings would serve as the league's ultimate comment on the matter.
Vicente Figueroa, a California player, said Wittman was choking Mashino so hard "I saw [Mashino's] face turning purple and his tongue sticking out. He was having difficulty breathing, so I grabbed [Wittman's] hand and started pulling his fingers [away]."
Wittman disputed that account.
"No one pulled my fingers away. I let the guy go and we walked off the field," Wittman said. "And I cooperated completely when [the police] came [and arrested him]. I understand you have to have security."
Stockton police said Wittman must appear in Stockton Superior Court on April 10 to answer the battery charge.
According to Wittman, the incident was the culmination of escalating tensions between Wittman and Mashino, who had also worked a Blast loss in Philadelphia two weeks earlier. Wittman said Mashino told him during that earlier game that "Philly had to win," an allegation the league is now reviewing.
In the second half of the game in California, seven of the nine penalties Mashino whistled were on Blast players.
"It's a great league, a great sport. But I think this ref had it out for me personally," Wittman said.
Wittman originally made the "Philly had to win" allegation - a charge of game-fixing, essentially - in an interview with Comcast last week. That charge is what drew the USSF into the situation and could lead to more severe sanctions against Wittman. The USSF oversees MISL officials.
"These comments by Mr. Wittman, which I am aware of, he had an obligation to report that to the league, and there is a procedure for doing that, and no report was made," MISL commissioner Ryan said.
Hale strongly disputes Wittman's charge.
"I called the head of referees [for the MISL] and apologized for this because there's no one that I know of anywhere in any capacity on my team that believes that," Hale said.
Ryan said, "Baltimore is a great franchise. I can sense palpable disappointment there."
In the end, the situation may come down to the single, indisputable fact that Wittman touched two officials.
"I would almost liken it to getting caught drunk driving. If you blow a .14, you're drunk. That's just a fact," former GM Forrester said.
"Its an awful mistake, a life-changing mistake. There's just no defense for putting your hands on a referee. You can have your explanations, but there's just no excuse for it, just like there's no excuse for drinking and getting behind the wheel."
Healey said, "It's unfortunate. I think Tim understands it was a serious line he crossed in touching a referee. He admits it and he understands there will be a penalty for that. Tim knows he made a mistake. When you touch a referee, you're going to get in trouble."