On This Day in 2007, the American Gave Fulham What They'd Been Waiting For
Clint Dempsey arrived at Craven Cottage in January 2007 carrying a price tag that announced him before he'd touched the ball. The $4 million Fulham had paid New England Revolution made him the most expensive American export to the Premier League in history, and it drew attention the way transfer records always do — the kind that turns every early misplaced pass into confirmation of doubt. He was 23, a World Cup scorer, the reigning Honda Player of the Year in MLS, and now part of a Fulham squad that already housed two of his countrymen in Brian McBride and Carlos Bocanegra. Manager Chris Coleman called him aggressive, offensively minded, a player with skill and the right attitude. "It may take a little time," Coleman said, carefully, "but when he does, I have no doubt that he will have an exciting impact."
Dempsey himself had no reservations. "It's been an ambition of mine to come to England and play in the Premiership," he said on the day his work permit came through. "I'm excited that I've been given the opportunity to do that."
The opportunity, as it turned out, would be rationed carefully. He made his league debut in a 1-1 draw against Tottenham on January 20, followed by an FA Cup run-out against Stoke. But regular minutes didn't follow. The early weeks went by in flashes—a training ground impression here, a cameo there—and Dempsey found himself watching more than playing. In the three games he did start up front, against Stoke, Arsenal, and eventually Liverpool, he was operating in a position he was still learning at this level. "The first game I played as a forward was against Stoke," he admitted. "I've only played this position three times with Fulham."
Fulham's season gave his situation a particular edge. The club had opened confidently enough, looking like a comfortable mid-table side, but a collapse of almost unprecedented grimness, one win from 18 league games, had dragged them toward the drop. Coleman paid for it with his job in April, replaced by caretaker Lawrie Sanchez, the Northern Ireland manager who arrived at Craven Cottage with 32 days to save the club's top-flight status. Sanchez hadn't won a game in charge. He hadn't won a game as a club manager in 14 attempts. When Liverpool came to town on May 5, Fulham sat in the danger zone, staring at the Championship.
Rafael Benítez had other things on his mind. The Champions League final against AC Milan in Athens was seventeen days away, and he treated the trip to Craven Cottage accordingly. Steven Gerrard didn't travel. Nor did Jamie Carragher, Javier Mascherano, Dirk Kuyt, Peter Crouch, John Arne Riise or Daniel Agger. Of the side that had beaten Chelsea in the semi-final just days earlier, only José Reina and Jermaine Pennant started. Benítez would defend his selections afterward, arguing his depleted side had created enough to win. The Craven Cottage crowd didn't care about his arithmetic.
The first half belonged to Craig Bellamy. Twice, he drove Antti Niemi into diving saves, and twice the Fulham goalkeeper held firm. Reina, at the other end, was equally sharp, hurling himself at a Tomasz Radzinski cross and punching it clear. The closest either side came to a goal was Vincenzo Montella's spectacular bicycle kick from the far post, which deflected off Xabi Alonso and thudded against the upright. Then, in the sort of moment that defines desperate afternoons, Pennant split Fulham open and found Robbie Fowler with the goal gaping. Fowler, a player who had made open goals look routine for a decade, somehow ended up on the turf with the ball screwed wide.
The first half also produced a moment of ill-tempered controversy. Alonso left the field briefly with blood pouring from his face after what appeared to be contact with Fulham captain Michael Brown. Benítez would spend much of his post-match press conference on the topic. Brown maintained it was an accidental clash of heads. Sanchez believed his captain. The referee had seen nothing.
Sanchez made his move on the hour, withdrawing Montella and sending on Dempsey. What followed took 16 minutes. Dempsey's running immediately unsettled Liverpool's makeshift backline. He was direct, physical, and difficult to track, and the visitors' defense, already stretched by a long season and a rotated lineup, couldn't find a way to contain him comfortably. Papa Bouba Diop tested Reina from range. Bellamy and Niemi resumed their private duel, with the goalkeeper saving again from a driven shot. Liverpool were still in it, still threatening, but something had shifted.
Then, in the 68th minute, Liam Rosenior broke down the right flank. His cross came in early and low. Dempsey, arriving at the far edge of the area, didn't hesitate. He swept the ball past Reina first time, bottom-left, and Craven Cottage erupted.
"It was a great ball by Liam, and I just tried to put it on frame, and it went in the back of the net," Dempsey said afterward, with the characteristic understatement of someone who understood exactly what he'd just done. "The defense played well, and it was nice to get the goal."
Reina had kept Fulham at bay for much of the afternoon. He'd been brilliant in the first half, athletic and commanding. But there was nothing he could do about this one. Dempsey had started and finished the move, and it was the kind of finish—composed, first-time, unhesitating—that tends to make a striker look like he always knew it was going in.
Diop was dismissed late on for a second booking, leaving Fulham to defend with ten men, but they held. Liverpool's nine changes had produced nine nothing moments at the end. The final score was 1-0. Benítez was furious, primarily about Brown and Alonso. "You can use 20 referees, 2,000 cameras and a lot of electronic systems," he said, "but if you don't want to see it, you won't. Unbelievable." It was a convoluted exit from a forgettable afternoon for a team with bigger matters ahead of them.
Sanchez allowed himself a single note of caution: "It was a big, big step today. But I won't talk about relief until it is mathematically impossible for us to go down."
The goal was Dempsey's first in the Premier League. It was also, practically speaking, the goal that kept Fulham in it. The win ended an 11-game losing run in the league and delivered three points that pushed the club far enough clear of the drop zone to breathe again. A few days after the match, Dempsey had admitted the spell on the sidelines had worn on him. "It's been disappointing. I haven't been playing much and didn't really feel like I was able to contribute much. It felt like today was payback for the club getting me from MLS. I was able to give something back to Fulham, who fought so hard to get me."
The price tag had followed him all the way from New England. The most expensive American the Premier League had ever seen had spent four months at Craven Cottage learning a new position, watching from the bench, and waiting. He'd come on with 16 minutes left and done what the number called for. For one May afternoon by the Thames, the investment had paid off in the most direct terms possible—one goal, three points, and a club still in the top flight to show for it. The rest, as Dempsey himself believed all along, was still to come.