In the 17th minute of the first leg of their CONCACAF quarter-final against the L.A. Galaxy, Torsten Frings drifted over to the touchline near midfield to collect a ball.

Here, a crucial but understandable error was made.

The man closest to Frings, L.A. forward Edson Buddle, watched the German slow for an instant to think. Buddle slowed down, too. Hard to imagine that Frings could accomplish anything at that distance.

But one man thinking and one man drifting is the entire recipe for disaster in this sport.

Frings nudged the ball forward, then ran on to his own pass and struck it goalward. The ball floated 40 yards, swinging sharply toward the middle of the field.

The professionals of MLS do many things nearly as well as their counterparts overseas. Generally speaking, passing accurately over distance is not one of them.

In that regard, Frings is a breed apart. It’s a key reason he’s so much richer than most of his colleagues.

The ball hooked downward, gathering speed. The L.A. defence drifted backward, not clued in enough to worry. Toronto rookie Luis Silva was allowed to split their line.

All that was required of Silva was to do some basic geometry. The angle calculated, he headed the ball back across the face of goal and into the corner of the net.

It will not be remembered as the greatest goal in Toronto FC history (the subsequent come-from-behind L.A. draw ruined that), but it was one of the most quietly skilled.

Silva was mobbed by most of his teammates. Rather than run half the field to show off, Frings slowly returned to his position at the back to await the restart.

For good reason, Torsten Frings celebrates like he’s been there before.

Afterward, Silva would say it was the best pass he had ever received.

“Well, Silva’s still young,” Frings said after the compliment had been passed on. “He’ll get many more good balls.”

One hopes.

Frings brushes away compliments and criticisms as only a player with his international pedigree can.

Of that game, all Frings wanted to do was lament the team’s failure to sew up the win after taking fuss vom gas — it’s foot off the pedal.

He seems genuinely disinterested in what role he’s asked to perform, or how it best highlights his skill set — dead ball striking, muscular ball winning and telepathic passing.

He has been featured as the lone central defender in the team’s first two competitive matches. Has he made a permanent switch from his habitual spot tucked behind midfield?

“It depends on what the coach wants. For me, it makes no difference,” Frings says, as translated by teammate Stefan Frei.

No difference?

“If that’s what’s best for the team …” Frings says, shrugging and letting the possibility that he might care dissipate into nothingness.

But isn’t it a significant change in approach, mentality?

“It’s the same thing as midfield, just one level back,” Frings says, an answer so Teutonic in its flatness that one has to laugh. One does. Frings doesn’t.

He doesn’t quite see the humour.

This is not to say that Frings has no sense of humour. He does. Just not about soccer.

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Soccer he approaches with detached precision and an inability to suffer the game’s fools. One of his key self-imposed tasks this year is “use my experience in communicating with teammates,” which sounds slightly terrifying.

Every question circuitously winds back to the team.

What’s the goal this year?

“Playoffs … improving the team.”

What’s the key to that goal?

“We need to play as a unit.”

How close is this unit to being finished?

“There’s no timetable. We need to focus on our goal.”

Back up to the top and repeat.

Unit. Team. Goal. I’m not sure how you say these words in German, but as translated by Frei, they recur with metronomic regularity. By the end, Frei began every answer with, “He says, once again …”

If you’re looking for a celebrity talent-contest judge, skip this guy. You’ll have exactly as many winners as entrants.

And of course, Frings would not pick out a key player in that hive mind that is his ideal team, though the key player is clearly him.

Manager Aron Winter’s early gamble that Frings can contribute up front while living in the back will be a key determinant of the season. His footwork should help in the team’s weakest third. The healthy dose of fear he instills in colleagues should work even better.

“We have many players who are capable of delivering,” Frings said, once again reverting to his mantra. “In my career, this is how success comes. Not guys who want to score goals, but guys who want the team to win.”

Later, Frings and I walked out to the parking lot across the street from BMO Field.

I got into a Japanese compact. He got into a 450-horsepower Mercedes that sounded like a Harrier jet on start-up. Quite definitely foot on gas.

Apparently, concentrating on the collective can have its individual rewards.