If someone with zero knowledge of Major League Soccer took a quick look at the league standings after seven weeks of play, they might notice a few things: One, the LA Galaxy are the best team in the league, and two, the collection of mediocre teams is thick on the ground.
Four teams with ten points (all in the West, by the way), two with nine, one with eight, and two with seven; that's half the league within three points of each other, all battling it out in the second tier of clubs (or third if you put the Galaxy in their own tier). The idiosyncrasies of the league schedule add an element of cloudiness to the assessment, but nevertheless, there seems to be a shakeout occurring. There will likely be two or three teams better than everyone else, then a collection of clubs cannibalizing each other, then a group of poor teams taking a beating from the rest of the league.
Functional parity, in a nutshell.
What parity doesn't, or can't ever, do is create a league where every team is essentially the same. Coaches range in quality. Front office staff, the decision makers signing players and drafting young talent, range in quality. Systems, consistency, form, etc., all range widely in quality and application. Major League Soccer teams are hardly carbon copies of each other, no matter salary and roster restrictions.
But it does serve to create a clump of mediocrity, that much is clear. The differences between FC Dallas, Chivas USA, the Rapids (all with ten points) and several others, are slight; matches among this group comes down to form on the day, a call here or there, and a lucky break or two. Depending on the situation, this can either mean exceedingly boring slugfests or hotly contested games breaking one way or the other on a handful of crucial moments. The MLS fan existence boils down to hoping for the latter while dreading the former; detractors of league-mandated parity might argue that there should never be acceptance of mediocrity, though the situation creates more uncertainty, the very essence of following any sport, than exists in many other leagues. Where some competitions need upsets and shock results to provide weekly spice, MLS relies on complete uncertainty because it's often unclear which side is the better one.
The outliers, like the Galaxy at the top and DC United at the bottom, are what make parity palatable. For good or bad, MLS relies on parity to engage fans, even out the relative financial health of the league, and to prevent clubs in the biggest markets from running away from the rest of the pack. Playoffs might lessen that advantage, but there's a strong chance it would be season after season of one or two clubs battling it out for regular season supremacy.
Sure, fans of those teams would like that, but what about everyone else? Would there be enough intrigue in the playoff race to give people reason to show up or watch on TV? Professional soccer in the US doesn't have a historic base to rely upon, generations of supporters ready to watch their team play no matter their prospects from year to year. Practically speaking, it makes sense to pull the richest teams down while propping up the not-so-rich in a league built on the idea that everyone is in it together. MLS worships at the parity altar because it provides cost certainty, with the added benefit of giving fans across the country reason to believe their team can win; until there's reason no longer reason to worry about the financial aspect, nothing will change.
Widespread mediocrity: a distasteful pill to be rejected at every turn, or acceptable condition that ensures evenly-matched games from week to week?
This must be one of those "in the eye of the beholder" things...
