This kind of fan involvement seems to be working.
Fueled by the Internet, Sounders booster clubs popped up not only in Seattle, but in L.A. and Denver. Fans chose the team's name, pushed for more seating, created the pregame parade and lobbied to relocate the band to another part of Qwest Field after some complained about being too close to such a loud ensemble.
"We'll help set the bar for what success is," says Roth, the council member, noting that the team is adding 4,000 seats. "We feel we're part of this grass-roots process."
Still, despite Carey's cheeky promise that the Sounders "will give fans pitchforks and torches" so they can remake the team if they're not happy, at this early stage it's not clear how much power fans will have -- or should have.
"Fans operate with their hearts and not their heads," warns USC's Carter. "The key will be how do the Sounders balance fan interaction and input with smart decision making? . . . They have to be very careful not to turn this into a circus."
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Greg Mockos, another Sounders council member and leader of the rambunctious Emerald City Supporters, understands such caution.
"There's still a lot up in the air, but the way this team is doing its business is helping build an incredibly positive feeling here," he says. "Drew is a huge part of that. . . . I e-mail back and forth with Drew. Who can say they do that with a dude who owns a sports team?"
At Occidental Park, the marching band, with its fondness for Red Hot Chili Peppers tunes, is going strong an hour before game time, and Carey is 10 feet in front of the band. The attention is nonstop. He poses for pictures, shakes hands.
"Cleveland rocks," says one passing fan, repeating "The Drew Carey Show's" catchphrase. "But Seattle rocks harder, don't ya think?"
Carey nods. "Funny thing," he says, "everyone here always thinks I'm the majority owner of this team, when I'm not. They think I brought them soccer. I didn't. I just jumped on board with some of my ideas."
It is time to begin moving to the stadium, the band in the lead. Carey walks with the fans, holding his Sounders scarf high, never at a loss for ideas. "How about we throw a huge, pregame fan barbecue this summer?" he blurts out, to no one in particular. "Right here, in the park; it'd be awesome."
By the start of the game, Carey is in his box and Qwest Field is rocking with rhythmic chants: "Ooooh to be a Sounder! Oooo. Ooooh to be a Sounder!"
