Project 14 and 26 - Soccer - Developing Leagues Around the World

[PWC2017]

Chapter 9: Distance and Possibility​

Summer–Fall 2014

The first few months in Las Vegas passed without ceremony.

There was no dramatic beginning, no defining moment that marked the transition from one life to another. Instead, time moved quietly—measured in routines, flights, emails, and long hours alone with ideas that had nowhere to settle yet.

From afar, Manson watched Hong Kong football begin to stabilise.

The leagues kicked off. Fixtures ran on schedule. Clubs appeared—at least publicly—more anchored than they had been before. Stadiums filled modestly but consistently. The system was working, not perfectly, but enough to justify the years spent arguing for it.

There was satisfaction in that.

And a strange sense of distance.

The project that had defined his early twenties no longer needed him in the same way. It had moved beyond theory. Others were now responsible for its day-to-day survival.

In Las Vegas, there was nothing yet to replace it.

A Different Kind of Silence​

Summer in the desert was relentless.

The heat made the city feel paused during the day, alive only at night. Manson spent long mornings inside—reading, writing, sketching models that were not yet meant to be shared.

This was thinking time.

Not the reactive thinking of meetings and deadlines, but the slower work of asking questions without expecting answers.

What would a proper North American football system look like if you weren’t constrained by what already existed?

Early Shapes​

The first realisation was uncomfortable but unavoidable:

MLS and USL could not continue as parallel worlds forever.

They served the same markets. Competed for players. Fragmented investment. Created confusion for supporters and broadcasters alike.

Amalgamation—once unthinkable—began to feel inevitable.

Not immediately. Not forcibly.

But eventually.

The question was not if, but how.

Would it be a tiered system?
A phased integration?
A shared commercial structure with sporting separation?

There were no answers yet—only frameworks.

Geography as Strategy​

North America demanded a different way of thinking.

Markets mattered.

Not just population size, but identity, history, and economic gravity.

Manson began mapping cities not as expansion targets, but as missing pieces:

• San Francisco – a global city without a football identity that matched its stature
• Detroit – a sleeping giant, defined by resilience and reinvention
• Baltimore – historically rich, culturally distinct, overshadowed but not insignificant

These were not speculative markets.

They were corrections.

The Power of Names​

Another idea surfaced repeatedly in his notes—almost obsessively.

Identity.

American sports understood the value of heritage better than most football cultures, yet soccer had abandoned much of its own history in the pursuit of novelty.

What if it didn’t have to?

Manson began exploring whether intellectual property rights to iconic names could be reclaimed.

Names that still carried weight:

• LA Aztecs
• New York Cosmos
• Others scattered through American soccer history

These weren’t brands to be revived for nostalgia.

They were anchors—shortcuts to legitimacy.

A new system didn’t need new names everywhere.

Sometimes it needed old ones, handled correctly.

Watching From Afar​

As summer turned to fall, the distance from Hong Kong felt less painful and more instructive.

The league he had helped design was running without him.

That mattered.

It meant the idea had outgrown its author.

In Vegas, nothing had begun yet.

But something was forming.

Not a plan.

A direction.

One shaped by scale, patience, and the understanding that North America could not be approached with the same urgency as Hong Kong.

This would take longer.

And that, for the first time, felt acceptable.

 

[Tommy MBE]

Is this all from memory? If so your very creative.

I always like reading BTB from you.

 

[PWC2017]

Is this all from memory? If so your very creative.

I always like reading BTB from you.

No, not from memory. I have outlines of what I want to get down and go from there. So lots of the names, tables, league structures etc, but the story is where I need help from most of the time.

 

[Tommy MBE]

No, not from memory. I have outlines of what I want to get down and go from there. So lots of the names, tables, league structures etc, but the story is where I need help from most of the time.

I enjoy what you write as it's football . Like the Birmingham F.C, BTB one was really enjoyable. So the storyis imagination, that what you mean?

 

[PWC2017]

Chapter 10: A System Apart​

North American Soccer, 2014–2015

By 2014 and 2015, professional soccer in North America was no longer an experiment.

It was a business.

Major League Soccer had survived its most fragile years and emerged as a stable, centrally controlled league with expanding attendance, improving infrastructure, and growing media relevance. The United Soccer League had positioned itself as a national second tier, increasingly aligned with MLS through affiliations and reserve teams.

From a distance, the system appeared healthy.

From closer inspection, it was isolated.

The Teams​

MLS was expanding aggressively, targeting ownership groups rather than markets alone. Entry was determined by:

• Expansion fees
• Stadium plans
• Ownership net worth

Sporting merit played no role.

USL, meanwhile, became a hybrid competition—part independent clubs, part development platform for MLS. Some teams existed to win. Others existed to develop players for a parent organisation.

The result was a fragmented ecosystem.

There was growth—but no ladder.

Allocation Money and Control​

At the heart of MLS’s uniqueness was its single-entity structure, reinforced by a system of allocation money.

General Allocation Money (GAM) and Targeted Allocation Money (TAM) allowed clubs to:

• Buy down player salaries
• Navigate the salary cap strategically
• Retain certain players without fully entering the open market

The philosophy was deliberate.

Parity over excellence.
Cost certainty over risk.
Central control over local autonomy.

It worked in its intended context.

But it came at a price.

A Different Sport​

MLS clubs did not operate like clubs elsewhere in the world.

They were not independent economic entities. They did not own player contracts in the traditional sense. Transfers were managed internally, often requiring league approval.

In Europe, South America, and Asia:

• Clubs bought and sold players freely
• Risk was rewarded, and failure punished
• Sporting ambition directly affected financial outcomes

In North America, ambition was filtered.

Failure did not carry existential consequence.

The Franchise Ceiling​

The franchise model had created safety—but also stagnation.

Without promotion or relegation:

• Lower-league clubs had no path upward
• Ambitious ownership was capped
• Local success had limited national consequence

Markets were chosen, not earned.

For supporters, this created emotional distance. Winning mattered—but only within a closed circle. There was no sense of ascent, no fear of collapse.

It was a league designed to avoid volatility, not harness it.

Disconnection From the Global Game​

As MLS grew, its divergence from the global football ecosystem widened.

Transfer windows operated differently. Player valuations were distorted. Development pathways were unclear to outsiders.

North American clubs existed near world football, but not fully within it.

This was not incompetence.

It was design.

Growth Without Gravity​

The system continued to expand—new teams, new stadiums, new cities.

But expansion alone did not equal evolution.

There was no mechanism forcing standards upward beyond internal benchmarks. No pressure from below. No threat from above.

Everything moved horizontally.

For Manson, this was the defining issue.

“The league was growing,” he noted,
“but nothing was pulling it forward.”

A Closed Success​

By any American sporting metric, MLS was successful.

By global football standards, it was incomplete.

The challenge was not replacing the system.

It was connecting it.

And that question—how to introduce movement, consequence, and continuity into a closed environment—would define every conversation that followed.

North American soccer had reached stability.

What it lacked was gravity.

 

[PWC2017]

I enjoy what you write as it's football . Like the Birmingham F.C, BTB one was really enjoyable. So the storyis imagination, that what you mean?

So yeah, I have the outline of the vision. So I have the league system all in excel docs, all that info is in place. Same with New World Pro-Wrestling - Weight classes and event details are in place. But the story around it isnt. Thats what I use other means to embellish.

 

[PWC2017]

Chapter 11: The Numbers and the Map​

2015

By 2015, Major League Soccer stood at 19 teams.

Chivas USA had folded, quietly and inevitably, serving as a reminder that even within a protected system, identity still mattered. The league continued to grow, expand, and professionalise, but for Matthew Manson, MLS was no longer the immediate question.

It was moving forward on its own trajectory.

Interfering with that process made little sense.

The real opportunity lay elsewhere.

The Blank Canvas​

Looking at North America from above—literally and figuratively—the scale was overwhelming.

Fifty states.

Dozens of major metropolitan areas. Hundreds of mid-sized cities. Regions with deep sporting cultures but no professional football presence at all.

In most countries, geography limits ambition.

In the United States, geography expanded it.

Manson began to see the continent not as a league, but as a network of markets—many capable of sustaining more than one professional club over time.

This was not about immediate saturation.

It was about sequencing.

Accepting MLS as a Constant​

One of the most important conclusions Manson reached in 2015 was deceptively simple:

MLS did not need to be fixed.

It would continue to expand, refine its commercial model, and strengthen its infrastructure. Attempting to force structural change onto MLS at that stage would only create resistance.

Instead, it needed context.

Something beneath it that could grow organically, market by market, without threatening existing investments.

Turning to the Lower Divisions​

Attention shifted toward the United Soccer League and the broader ecosystem beneath it.

USL was already expanding, but unevenly. Some clubs were ambitious and independent. Others existed primarily as MLS affiliates. Standards varied, but interest was growing.

Below USL sat leagues like the PDL—semi-professional, regional, and often overlooked.

To Manson, these leagues were not peripheral.

They were raw material.

If North American soccer was ever going to resemble a true pyramid, the process had to start here—not at the top.

Building, Not Jumping​

The idea was not to create immediate challengers to MLS.

It was to establish credible professional clubs in:

• Untapped markets
• Underserved regions
• Cities with sporting identity but no football pathway

Each club would be a foundation stone, not a finished product.

Some would fail.

That was part of the process.

The goal was density, not dominance.

A Long View​

Manson’s thinking was becoming increasingly clear:

• Let MLS grow naturally
• Strengthen USL into something structurally meaningful
• Encourage ambitious ownership below
• Create pathways where none existed

This was not a five-year plan.

It was the beginning of a decade-long build.

A system designed not to disrupt what existed, but to outgrow it—quietly, patiently, market by market.

Starting the Work​

By late 2015, the questions had shifted again.

Not whether North America could support more professional football.

But where to begin.

The map was open.

The numbers were undeniable.

And for the first time, the scale of the challenge no longer felt intimidating.

It felt inevitable.

 

[PWC2017]

Chapter 12: First Conversations​

2015

By mid-2015, the work moved from maps and notebooks into meeting rooms.

Not formal announcements. Not commitments.

Conversations.

The United Soccer League was the natural starting point. It sat in the space between ambition and reality—large enough to matter, flexible enough to evolve. Unlike MLS, it was not burdened by expectation. Unlike lower leagues, it possessed genuine professional intent.

This was where building could begin.

The First Markets​

Initial discussions focused on a small group of cities that shared common traits: strong local identity, manageable scale, and ownership groups willing to think beyond survival.

Among the first were:

• Louisville
• Pittsburgh
• Birmingham
• Tulsa
• Phoenix
• San Antonio
• Tampa Bay
• Sacramento
• Indianapolis

These were not speculative choices.

Each represented a market where football could grow with the city, rather than compete against it.

Working With USL​

Meetings with USL leadership in 2015 were practical rather than ideological.

The questions were basic, but essential:

• What does a professional club need to survive?
• What standards can be enforced without discouraging entry?
• How do you balance independence with cohesion?

There was no appetite for grand declarations.

Only for steady progress.

Paul McDonough​

A key part of this early phase was working alongside Paul McDonough, whose experience bridged multiple levels of the American game.

McDonough understood the gap between vision and implementation. He knew where ambition stalled and where it could be nurtured.

Together, the focus was not on branding or marketing.

It was infrastructure.

Grounds Before Glory​

Every conversation returned to the same fundamentals:

• Stadium location
• Training ground access
• Long-term site control

Temporary solutions were accepted—but only as stepping stones.

The objective was clear: clubs needed places they could call their own. Without that, everything else—supporter culture, commercial revenue, player development—remained fragile.

In Louisville, site evaluations were already underway.
In Sacramento and San Antonio, stadium conversations were gaining momentum.
In markets like Birmingham and Tulsa, the work was quieter but no less deliberate.

Nothing was rushed.

A Different Kind of Growth​

This phase was not about creating national relevance.

It was about local legitimacy.

Each club was encouraged to think like a permanent institution rather than a seasonal operation. Community integration mattered. Youth pathways mattered. Training environments mattered.

Winning was secondary.

Survival was the metric.

No Announcements Yet​

By the end of 2015, there was still nothing to announce publicly.

But something had shifted.

Clubs were no longer isolated projects. They were part of a conversation—one that extended beyond individual seasons or league tables.

For Manson, this was the first sign that the idea might hold.

Not because it was bold.

But because people were willing to do the unglamorous work required to make it real.

The foundation phase had begun.

 

[PWC2017]

Chapter 13: The Noise Begins​

2015

Until then, the work had existed in relative quiet.

Meetings were private. Conversations were framed as exploratory. Ideas lived in notebooks and closed rooms, protected by ambiguity and the absence of timelines.

That changed in late 2015.

The first signs were subtle—questions asked slightly out of context, journalists referencing conversations that had never been public, speculation appearing where there had previously been none.

The project had acquired a name.

Project 26.

The Media Scent​

At first, the coverage was vague.

Blog posts hinted at “structural reform.”
Insiders referenced “a long-term pyramid plan.”
Industry reporters began connecting dots between USL expansion, infrastructure requirements, and conversations happening well beyond normal league operations.

Nothing was accurate.

But none of it was entirely wrong.

The problem was not misinformation.

It was timing.

Manson’s Role​

Manson’s official position remained deliberately undefined.

He was not a league executive.
Not a federation spokesperson.
Not a public architect.

Instead, he operated in the margins—advisor, facilitator, strategist—depending on the audience.

That ambiguity was intentional.

Formal titles create expectations. Expectations attract resistance.

For now, his value lay in movement rather than authority.

What Could Not Be Said​

Certain elements of Project 26 could not survive public scrutiny in their infancy.

Discussions around:

• Long-term pyramid integration
• Potential league alignment
• Historic club identities
• Structural relationships between MLS and USL

These ideas were fragile.

Public debate would harden positions before alignment could be found. Owners would feel threatened. Federations would retreat into caution.

Silence was not secrecy for its own sake.

It was protection.

Managing Curiosity​

Journalists began requesting interviews.

Some were declined politely.
Others were redirected.
A few were met with carefully neutral conversations that confirmed nothing and denied even less.

Manson learned quickly that in American soccer, narrative often moves faster than reality.

The challenge was not stopping the story.

It was slowing it down.

Internal Friction​

The attention created discomfort.

Some stakeholders worried that speculation would spook investors. Others feared leaks could force premature positions. There were moments where the easiest option would have been to clarify everything publicly.

Manson resisted that instinct.

“If this becomes a debate before it becomes a framework,” he warned,
“we lose control of it entirely.”

A New Skill​

Up to that point, his work had been structural.

Now it was political.

Learning when not to speak became as important as knowing what to say. Progress depended less on conviction and more on restraint.

Project 26 was no longer invisible.

But it was not ready to be understood.

Holding the Line​

By the end of 2015, the noise had not faded—but it had not escalated either.

Speculation lingered.
Details remained elusive.
The story stalled without oxygen.

That was intentional.

The project needed time to breathe before it could survive the light.

And for the first time, Manson understood that building systems was only half the work.

The other half was learning how to protect them.

 

[PWC2017]

Chapter 14: The Cost of Certainty​

Pushback

The first real resistance did not come from federations.

It came from future owners.

As Project 26 quietly expanded its reach, questions began filtering back through intermediaries—owners in MLS expansion markets, investment groups considering entry, advisors tasked with evaluating long-term risk.

The concern was consistent.

Why would anyone spend hundreds of millions of dollars on a franchise if relegation could exist in the future?

The Expansion Dilemma​

MLS expansion was accelerating. New ownership groups were committing enormous sums for the right to enter a closed league—sums justified by one core guarantee:

Security.

No relegation.
No existential risk.
No sporting failure that could erase investment overnight.

Project 26 introduced uncertainty into that equation—even if unintentionally.

The fear was not immediate change.

It was precedent.

Owners worried less about what the system was in 2015 and more about what it might become in 2030.

A Question of Trust​

For many investors, football was not just sport.

It was a portfolio asset.

Relegation represented volatility—something American sports ownership had been designed to avoid. The idea that future reform could dilute the protection they had paid for was deeply unsettling.

Some framed it bluntly:

“We didn’t buy into this for risk.”

Others were more measured:

“If the rules change later, what did we actually purchase?”

Manson’s Position​

Manson did not argue for immediate promotion and relegation.

In fact, he often did the opposite.

He acknowledged the legitimacy of the concern. Expansion fees were sunk costs. Investors needed clarity. No system could function if trust was broken.

His response was consistent:

This was not about taking something away.

It was about building something alongside it.

Parallel Paths​

Project 26 was never intended to retroactively change MLS’s foundation.

The idea was to:

• Allow MLS to continue expanding under its existing model
• Strengthen the leagues beneath it
• Create optionality rather than obligation

If change ever came, it would be evolutionary—not imposed.

But reassurance was not enough.

The fear persisted because the future was unknowable.

The Psychological Barrier​

The pushback revealed something deeper than policy disagreement.

It exposed a philosophical divide.

In global football, risk is accepted as the price of ambition.

In American sport, certainty is the product.

Project 26 sat uncomfortably between the two.

To some owners, it represented progress.

To others, it sounded like instability disguised as reform.

Slowing the Conversation​

As a result, certain discussions were deliberately paused.

Language softened. Timelines were pushed further out. The word “relegation” began to disappear from documents, replaced with neutral terms like pathways and mobility.

Not because the idea was abandoned.

But because survival required patience.

A Line Drawn​

By the end of those early conversations, one truth was clear:

No meaningful reform could occur without owner confidence.

And owner confidence could not be demanded—it had to be earned over time.

Project 26 would not move forward by confrontation.

It would move forward by outlasting fear.

For Manson, this was a turning point.

The challenge was no longer technical.

It was psychological.

And it would take years to resolve.

 

[PWC2017]

Chapter 15: Stability Without Resolution​

2015

By the end of 2015, life in Las Vegas had settled into something resembling routine.

Manson had moved beyond the temporary feeling of arrival. The city no longer felt foreign. His apartment was comfortable, modern, deliberately understated. A good car sat in the garage—necessary rather than indulgent. A small circle of new friends filled the social gaps left by Hong Kong.

From the outside, it looked like progress.

From the inside, it felt provisional.

A Life Between Ideas​

Vegas offered space—physical and mental.

There were fewer distractions, fewer obligations to perform. The days were structured around work that rarely produced immediate outcomes. Long-term planning had become the role, not the byproduct.

This was not about fixtures or seasons.

It was about architecture.

Talking to Capital​

A growing part of Manson’s time was spent in conversation with private equity firms.

Not pitching.

Listening.

Understanding how institutional investors evaluated risk in sport—especially in leagues that were not yet fully mature. The interest was cautious but genuine, particularly around USL and the possibility of structured growth within Canada.

What appealed to investors was not passion.

It was repeatability.

The Licensing Philosophy​

Central to every conversation was the same message:

Professional football could not exist without standards.

Any club serious about long-term inclusion in a future pyramid would need:

• A defined stadium plan
• Control or long-term security over training facilities
• A credible ownership structure
• Financial resilience beyond a single season

Licensing was not framed as a barrier.

It was framed as protection.

Protection for investors.
Protection for players.
Protection for the system itself.

Building Institutions, Not Teams​

The emphasis was never on simply adding clubs.

It was about developing institutions—entities capable of surviving market shifts, ownership changes, and competitive fluctuation.

A club without a home was not a club.

A club without a training environment was not professional.

These principles were non-negotiable.

Comfort and Distance​

The irony was not lost on him.

His personal life had achieved a level of comfort precisely as his professional work demanded patience and restraint. There were no headlines. No launches. No applause.

Just conversations that might matter years later.

Late nights often ended quietly, looking out over the city’s lights—so different from Hong Kong’s density, yet equally anonymous.

This phase did not feel heroic.

It felt necessary.

A Long Horizon​

By now, Manson understood something fundamental:

If this project succeeded, it would not be because of one decision or one deal.

It would be because enough people believed in a system before it existed.

And belief, in this context, could not be rushed.

Vegas had become a place of waiting.

Not passive waiting.

But deliberate restraint.

The kind that tests whether an idea is strong enough to survive time.

 

[PWC2017]

Chapter 16: Taking Stock​

2016

By the start of 2016, North American soccer had reached another quiet milestone.

Major League Soccer stood at 20 teams—no longer fragile, no longer experimental. Expansion had become a predictable rhythm rather than a risk. The league was confident in its model, comfortable with its growth, and increasingly influential within the American sports landscape.

Below it, the structure was less settled.

The USL Reality​

The United Soccer League had grown rapidly, but unevenly.

Of its 29 clubs in 2016:

• 11 were owned and operated by MLS clubs
• 9 operated through formal MLS affiliations
• The remainder existed independently, often with varying levels of ambition and resource

The result was a league with two competing purposes.

For some, USL was a development tool.
For others, it was a destination.

That ambiguity made long-term planning difficult.

A Fragmented Base​

Beneath USL, the landscape became even more diffuse.

Regional and semi-professional leagues continued to operate across the country—important for participation and development, but disconnected from any meaningful professional pathway.

There was activity everywhere.

There was alignment nowhere.

Seeing the Timeline​

For Manson, 2016 was not about action.

It was about sequence.

The picture was becoming clearer. Not in terms of answers, but in terms of when answers could realistically be found.

Three years stood out.

2017, 2018, and 2019.

These would be the years where decisions—carefully prepared—would need to begin crystallising.

Three Priorities​

The work ahead narrowed into three central questions.

First:
What kind of pyramid did North American soccer actually want?

Not theoretically.
Not ideologically.
But practically, within its economic and cultural reality.

Second:
Could new ownership be attracted in both the United States and Canada—particularly in markets without existing professional teams—under a clear, credible framework?

Not opportunists.
Builders.

Third:
How could the league’s foundational MLS clubs—the originals who had carried the league through uncertainty—be protected and respected in any future evolution?

Change could not come at the expense of those who had made growth possible.

Protecting the Core​

This third point mattered deeply.

Any future system would need to recognise that stability had been earned. That early investors had taken risks others had not.

Reform that ignored that history would fail.

A Narrowing Focus​

By the end of 2016, the noise of speculation had faded again.

The project had not stalled.

It had matured.

This was no longer about bold declarations or hypothetical futures. It was about discipline—knowing when not to act, and understanding that momentum could be preserved by restraint.

The next phase would require commitment.

Not from everyone.

But from enough.

And 2017 was approaching fast.

 

[PWC2017]

Chapter 17: The Lever​

2017

By the beginning of 2017, one thing had become unmistakably clear to Manson.

If meaningful structural change was ever going to happen in North American soccer, it would not begin at the top.

It would begin in the middle.

Understanding USL’s Role​

MLS was stable, protected, and increasingly valuable. Its expansion fees alone ensured that its owners would never willingly place themselves in a system defined by uncertainty.

USL, however, was different.

It carried less red tape, fewer political landmines, and—most importantly—greater flexibility in ownership models. While not free of constraint, it allowed ideas to be tested without triggering institutional resistance.

For the first time, Manson began to see USL not as a secondary league, but as a lever.

Clarity Over Speed​

What troubled him most wasn’t ambition—it was inconsistency.

Some clubs were building for the future.
Others were renting time.

If USL was going to matter long-term, the process had to become more fluid, but also far clearer.

The principle was simple:

No club should enter the league without already committing to permanence.

That meant:

• Land acquisition in progress
• Stadium and training ground plans submitted
• A defined ownership structure
• A long-term business model beyond survival

Playing games could no longer be the first step. It had to be the result.

The 2017 Landscape​

The league itself told a complicated story.

In 2017, USL featured clubs spread across the United States and Canada—some deeply rooted, others transitional by design.

There were historic independents like Charleston Battery, Richmond Kickers, and Rochester Rhinos, clubs that had survived multiple eras of American soccer through sheer resilience.

There were ambitious new standard-bearers—FC Cincinnati, Sacramento Republic, Louisville City, San Antonio FC—drawing real crowds, building identities, and forcing the question of what was possible outside MLS.

And then there were the reserve sides.

MLS II teams, operating with clear developmental intent, playing in modest venues, often disconnected from their local markets but tightly aligned with first-team philosophies.

The league was functioning—but not unified.

Stadiums as a Statement​

The disparity was visible in bricks and mortar.

Some clubs played in stadiums holding over 20,000, signaling intent and confidence. Others operated in facilities barely exceeding 2,000 seats, their presence temporary by design.

For Manson, stadiums were never just infrastructure.

They were declarations.

A club willing to buy land, break ground, and build facilities was a club making a promise—to its city, its supporters, and the league itself.

Anything less was a placeholder.

A More Honest Framework​

Throughout 2017, conversations shifted tone.

This was no longer about asking clubs if they wanted to grow.

It was about asking how far they were willing to commit.

The idea taking shape was not exclusionary—but it was firm.

Licensing would be ongoing.
Standards would rise.
Progress would be measured, not assumed.

USL’s importance wasn’t that it sat beneath MLS.

It was that it could evolve independently—quietly laying foundations while attention remained elsewhere.

The Beginning of Definition​

By the end of 2017, Manson felt something he hadn’t felt before.

Not confidence.

Clarity.

The pieces were not yet aligned, but they were visible. The league didn’t need to be torn down or revolutionised overnight.

It needed to be defined.

And once defined, it could grow.

The lever had been identified.

The pressure would come later.

 

[PWC2017]

Chapter 18: Separation of Purpose​

2017

By mid-2017, one contradiction had become impossible to ignore.

USL was being asked to be two things at once—and succeeding at neither fully.

On one hand, it was expected to function as a professional, independent league, capable of hosting clubs with real ambitions, real supporters, and real infrastructure. On the other, it was also serving as a developmental platform for MLS, housing reserve teams whose goals were entirely different.

For Manson, the issue was not ideological.

It was structural.

Two Missions, One League​

Affiliated teams did not exist to win leagues or build local identities. They existed to:

• Develop players
• Rehabilitate injuries
• Maintain tactical alignment with parent clubs

Their success was measured internally, not in trophies or attendances.

Independent clubs were the opposite.

They needed:

• Gate revenue
• Local engagement
• Long-term stability
• Competitive integrity

Placing both in the same league created friction that no rulebook could resolve.

The Core Idea​

The solution was simple—but politically delicate.

All affiliated teams would be moved into a separate league structure, fully controlled by MLS.

This new competition would house:

• MLS II teams
• U21 / U23 squads
• Development-focused sides
• Clubs with no requirement for independent stadium ownership

It would operate on MLS timelines, MLS priorities, and MLS rules.

USL, in turn, would become exactly what it needed to be:

A fully independent professional league.

Clarity Instead of Compromise​

This was not about exclusion.

Affiliated clubs would still exist. They would still play meaningful matches. But they would do so in an environment aligned with their purpose.

For USL clubs, the benefits were immediate:

• No competitive imbalance from teams unconcerned with results
• Clearer licensing standards
• Stronger commercial narrative
• A league identity rooted in place, not parentage

For MLS, it offered something equally valuable:

• Full control over player development
• A closed, predictable environment
• Freedom from external scheduling pressures

Everyone gained—once separation was accepted.

A New “MLS League”​

Internally, the concept was referred to simply as the MLS League.

Not a second division.
Not a reserve league in name only.

A professional development competition designed to bridge academy football and the first team—without distorting the professional pyramid beneath it.

Age limits would be flexible, not rigid.
Competitive standards would be high, but results secondary.
Geography would matter less than logistics and efficiency.

It was not meant to be visible to the casual fan.

It was meant to work.

Resistance and Reality​

The pushback was predictable.

Some MLS owners worried about cost.
Others feared optics.
A few simply resisted change out of habit.

But the logic was difficult to argue against.

If USL was to be the foundation of a future pyramid, it could not remain half-developmental and half-professional.

It had to choose.

Setting the Stage​

By the end of 2017, the idea was no longer hypothetical.

It was discussed seriously, quietly, and increasingly often.

Nothing was announced.
Nothing was promised.

But for the first time, the pathway forward felt clean.

Separate the purposes.
Define the leagues.
Let each system grow without undermining the other.

The architecture was taking shape.

The next step would be convincing people that separation was not a loss of control—but the beginning of real growth.

 

[PWC2017]

Chapter 20: Building the Middle​

Late 2018 – 2019

Once the lines were drawn, the work became relentless.

The creation of MLS NEXT had resolved one long-standing tension, but it also exposed a larger opportunity. With affiliated teams moving out of the professional ecosystem, USL finally had the space to define itself—not as a feeder, but as a structure.

This was where Manson’s focus narrowed.

Not the top.
Not the bottom.

The middle.

The Daily Work​

By late 2018, Manson was working almost daily alongside Paul McDonough, often in long, unglamorous sessions that stretched late into the evening. There were no grand presentations, no press conferences—just documents, maps, spreadsheets, and legal frameworks.

The goal was clear:

Create a true professional ladder inside USL.

One that:

• Made sense geographically
• Was scalable across the United States and Canada
• Allowed clubs to grow without being trapped

Three Clear Tiers​

The framework that began to emerge was simple in concept and complex in execution:

• USL Championship – the highest professional tier outside MLS
• USL League One – a national league for smaller but stable markets
• USL League Two – a developmental and semi-professional bridge

This was not about branding.

It was about order.

Each tier would have:

• Distinct financial expectations
• Stadium and training ground requirements
• Clear licensing standards

No more ambiguity about what a club was supposed to be.

Licensing Over Hype​

One of Manson’s strongest positions was uncompromising:

A club should not exist professionally without infrastructure.

That meant:

• Stadium control or long-term lease security
• Dedicated training facilities
• Ownership groups with multi-year funding capacity

Expansion fees mattered less than proof of intent.

If a club could not demonstrate a pathway to permanence, it did not belong in the system.

Geography First​

North America was not Europe.

That reality shaped everything.

Travel costs, time zones, regional rivalries—these were not side notes. They were structural realities. The three-tier system allowed USL to cluster clubs intelligently, reduce financial strain, and create regional identity before national ambition.

It was slow work.
Deliberate work.

And absolutely necessary.

Quiet Alignment​

There was no public declaration that this was the foundation of a future pyramid.

No talk of promotion or relegation.

But internally, the language was precise.

“Movement.”
“Pathways.”
“Progression.”

Words chosen carefully, but intentionally.

Why It Mattered​

For the first time, there was a professional system that could:

• Absorb new markets
• Allow clubs to grow organically
• Survive without MLS dependency

USL was no longer just a league.

It was becoming a platform.

The Long View​

By the end of 2019, the foundations were in place.

They were not perfect.
They were not finished.

But they existed.

And for Manson, that mattered more than speed or spectacle.

He had seen what happened when leagues grew without structure.

This time, the middle would hold.

And if it held, everything above and below it would have a chance to follow.