Steve Nicol was brought up in a scheme — or housing project — in Irvine, a mid-size town in the west of Scotland. He was born into what he calls a "sporting family" — "My dad was a good golfer; my mother was very athletic; my sister played hockey; my brother played rugby." Nicol, though, was immediately drawn to soccer (or football, as it is known in Scotland and the rest of the world). For Nicol, every spare moment was spent kicking a ball around. When someone stole or vandalized the goalposts on the local field (as often happened), he and his friends would simply lay down a couple of shirts and keep playing. "I was always at football," he says. "You know what it’s like: football is the be-all and end-all of everything."

Every young soccer nut dreams of the big time, of scoring the winning goal in the cup final, your name rising in the throats of 50,000 adoring fans. For most, such scenarios are fantasy. By the time he had reached his teens, though, Nicol was showing enough flair for the game that pursuing a professional career was a real possibility. His father, a civil engineer, had other ideas.

"He was more interested in how I was doing at school," Nicol says. "But I wasn’t interested in school; all I wanted to do was play football. I remember him coming up to me one day and saying, ‘You should push yourself forward when you play, so people will see you more.’ That was very strange, for my dad to say that, because he was ... I had to pay petrol money to get him to take me to games."

At the age of 15, with his father’s tacit approval, Nicol joined a semi-professional club called Ayr United. "I remember the first time I played," he says. "It was at a place called Arbroath, and it was freezing. I remember getting onto the field and thinking, ‘You’re never going to be able to play against those guys.’ " But Nicol was able to play against those guys, and then some. At 19, having outgrown the dinky Ayr United outfit, he signed with the mighty Liverpool. The dream had become a reality.

Even so, Nicol found himself gripped by the same fear that had marked his first game for Ayr. "My debut was away to Birmingham City, and I went out there thinking, ‘Am I ever going to be as good as these guys?’ It’s the same thing all the way up. You walk out into a European Cup game, and it’s the same thing going through your head: ‘What’s going on here? Where am I?’ " This niggling self-doubt followed Nicol throughout his career: he was always out to prove to himself, and the world, that he was good enough. Though he wasn’t blessed with the natural grace of some of the sport’s big stars, Nicol’s must-do attitude made him one of the hardest-working, longest-serving players in the game — and one of the most successful.

But by 1991, Nicol, then 30, was starting to feel the strain. "I got to the point where I couldn’t do what I’d been doing," he says. "You know, bombing up and down the field. And then, of course, someone else is coming up behind you and you’re not playing every game, and then you’re out. It’s one of the things that every player goes through. When you’re a youngster and you get your chance, it’s because somebody else is, shwip!" — he hooks his thumb toward the door — "And the one thing you can guarantee is that eventually you’ll be that guy. But knowing it and having it happen are two different things."

Though he could feel the end of his playing days with Liverpool drawing near, Nicol refused to accept it. "The one thing you never want to do," he says, "is stop playing." Always a versatile player, Nicol became even more so as he grew older, constantly switching to positions that required less running, finding ways to compensate for his flagging stamina. By the time 1995 rolled around, though, there was no escaping it: Nicol’s Liverpool career was over. "I really should have gone sooner, to be honest," he says. "I should have gotten away before I did."

It’s a kind of cliché in England: the retired soccer star buys himself a pub and lives out the rest of his days in anonymity, regaling the regulars with tales of the time he scored three goals at Newcastle — the belly growing a little rounder, the nose a little redder, with each telling. The idea sends Nicol into one of his many laughing fits. "I don’t think that would have been a good idea for me," he says. "I don’t think I’d have lasted too long in a pub."

Yet you get the sense that it was Nicol’s enduring love for the game, rather than the fear of booze-fueled dissolution, that kept him out of the pubs and on the soccer field. For four years after he quit Liverpool, Nicol slogged away with a string of lesser clubs. And when the English leagues proved too much for him, he switched positions on a grand scale. In 1999, at the age of 38, he came to Boston, where he took on a role as player-coach for the Boston Bulldogs, a semi-pro team. While some might see this as a classic rise-and-fall story, Nicol insists he was happy with the move.

"I was going back to where I started," he says. "Ayr United ain’t exactly Anfield, either.... I hear some of these guys at home [in the UK], giving it, ‘Oh, I’m gonna finish at the top. I’m gonna retire playing for Arsenal.’ Well, what about the kids who are starting out? The thing is, I get so much pleasure out of working with the young kids. It’s a pleasure to try to pass something on. It keeps the whole thing moving."

Whether Nicol will succeed in passing something on to the players at the New England Revolution remains to be seen. He may have a long and illustrious career behind him, he may have the requisite passion for the game, but if the Revs fail to qualify for the playoffs yet again, Nicol could easily find himself being shown the door, just like Frank Stapleton, Thomas Rongen, Walter Zenga, and all the other passionate, accomplished soccer professionals who preceded him at the team.

While Nicol might not shoot himself in the head if he isn’t offered the Revolution’s head-coach position, you have to assume that this outcome would not make him jump for joy. He has a house in the area. His wife and kids are happy here. More important, perhaps, Nicol would find himself, for the first time since he was 15, playing no role in the game he adores. But Nicol has overcome adversity before — not through storybook miracles, but through grit and determination. It is this quality, more than any other, that may prove to be his saving grace. "Why concentrate on something that may or may not happen?" he says. "You concentrate on what you can do. You just get yourself in there and get on with it."

Already, Nicol’s must-do attitude may be having an impact on his team. In the past few weeks, the Revolution have won four games, drawn one, and lost none, a fact that hasn’t gone unnoticed by some of the club’s perennially disgruntled fans. "Two weeks ago, I’d have said he’s gone," says Monty Rodrigues of Nicol’s prospects. "But the Revs are starting to play attractive soccer. They’re starting to play well. The coaches are always the easiest ones to get rid of — there have been way too many managers here. That’s one reason I’d like to see Nicol stay around. Maybe he’ll help us get some hardware for a change."

While Nicol may be encouraged by such sentiments, he seems equally heartened by the fans who betray less-sunny dispositions. "People have actually started moaning," he says. "That shows they are thinking about what’s going on. People are watching the game more on television. They’re seeing what’s going on around the world, how fans behave in other countries. It’s beginning to sink in a wee bit. I had one guy screaming at me at the top of his lungs: ‘What’s wrong with this place?! Seven years and we haven’t won a thing! What’s wrong?’ " Nicol grins as he recalls the encounter. It may not have been "Ya fuckin’ scouse bastard!" But it was something.

Chris Wright can be reached at cwright[a]phx.com