Wayne Rooney arrived at Hawthorne, a popular watering hole on D.C.’s U St., around 11 p.m. on a warm Saturday night last summer. Just a few hours earlier, the English striker had scored his first MLS goal for D.C. United, an angled strike put through the legs of former U.S. national team goalkeeper Tim Howard. Moments after that, he had received his first taste of the league’s physicality, left bloodied and battered by an elbow to the face. At the bar, a baseball cap hung low over his face to mask a shiner and a broken nose.



Rooney had counted dozens of the game’s all-time greats as teammates over his lengthy career, but found himself surrounded by far humbler company that night; a crowd that included a United homegrown player, team staffers and curious onlookers. Strangely enough, he fit right in. Drinks flowed. Bonds were formed. Last call came and went.



Eventually, Rooney and company poured out onto the sidewalk, into the mass of humanity...