20^th March 2000

A devoted following

BY GREG COUCH STAFF REPORTER The collection plate made its way around St. Sophia, the Bulgarian Orthodox Church in a converted two-flat on the Northwest Side. Sonny Ilcov, who was outside having a smoke a few minutes earlier, smiled, passed the plate to a stranger in the back row and said, "He made two goals yesterday." "He," of course, is the big guy. Hristo Stoitchkov. Such a reference was hardly sacrilege Sunday at Chicago's only Bulgarian church at 3827 N. Lawndale. Stoitchkov is a hero, a legend to his people. In the 1994 World Cup in the United States, he was the star of the Bulgarian team that not only won a World Cup game for the first time, but also took fourth place. Late last week, he joined the Fire and scored two goals Saturday in his first Major League Soccer game, a 4-2 loss at Dallas. Stoitchkov comes to Chicago today for an introductory news conference. "It's beyond belief," said Sam Krumrov, a senior at Rolling Meadows High School who moved to the United States in 1993. "To Bulgarians, he means more than Michael Jordan does here. Soccer is life in Bulgaria. In 1998, when I went back to Bulgaria during the World Cup, nobody was even out on the streets during the games. "A friend of mine in school told me a month ago that Stoitchkov is coming. I said, `That's not possible.' Did you see the game? Two goals. Two. Oh, my God." Stoitchkov is more than a magical goal-scorer and passer from the homeland. He represents a chance to see the name "Bulgaria" shine with heroics. A chance for the country's name to enter the city's consciousness. "When we moved here, I told our neighbors we were from Bulgaria," Antonnette Ivanov said. "And everyone told us, `Oh, Stoitchkov.' They compare us to Stoitchkov." Father Grouu Zomkov delivered his mass in Bulgarian. Late in the service, if you don't know the language, two words popped out of nowhere. Did he just say, "Chicago Fire"? "Yes," whispered Vassil Antonoff, who immigrated in 1956. "He said that Stoitchkov is raising our national pride. "And he is. He's going to put the Bulgarian name in the paper. When I came here, I told people I was Bulgarian, and they said, `Yes, Hungarian.' Not Hungarian. Bulgarian." Antonoff proudly and politely gives a Bulgarian history lesson without provocation. By the end, he tells of how the Communists gave up control in 1991. While some of the churchgoers Sunday had come to Chicago before that, it was then that the doors truly opened. Most of those at St. Sophia were born in Bulgaria, recent immigrants. They talked about the beauty of the country and how wonderful a place it can be. "But we have some economic problems there," Vesselin Alexandrov said. "And this is a good opportunity for us to move here and get jobs." Bulgaria, the size of Ohio with the population of greater Chicago, has not had an easy time with the transition from communism. Two years ago, inflation was over 100 percent. So Chicago's Bulgarians are grateful for the chance to have Stoitchkov spread a positive word to others about the country. But it's a word they need to hear, too. "He pulls us all together," Ivanov said, "like a community." And that community is talking nonstop about him. At Mario's Caffe, a Bulgarian restaurant at Harlem and Foster, you can enjoy the Shopska salad buried under Feta cheese, skinless sausage and discussion about you-know-who. "Everybody talks about him," said Mike Valkov, the restaurant's owner. "Everybody. And we get the Bulgarian newspapers here, and they are writing about him. Everybody is going to go see him." But just how many is "everybody"? When Stoitchkov signed with the Fire, team officials said it would be a big day for Chicago's Bulgarian community of 40,000. In truth, it is more like 10,000, spread all over. But the numbers are growing. For now, there are two Bulgarian restaurants, one coffee shop and the community's home base: St. Sophia. "When I started the church here a few years ago, only about 20, 30 people attended," Father Zomkov said. "Now we have 150 to 200. Five years and we have collected money and purchased the land to build a new church and complex in Des Plaines. We're working on paperwork and blueprints now." After mass on the second floor, about 100 people went to the big tables set up in the basement to congregate and sip on cool, thick Boza. Diana Daneva brought her camera. She had heard Stoitchkov might come to church Sunday and was going to get a picture with him. The hope now is he will come next week. She'll be ready again. "I watched the game yesterday on TV and I was so excited," she said. "Everybody was." Daneva remembers when Stoitchkov was in Chicago for the World Cup six years ago. The entire Bulgarian team came to St. Sophia for mass, shocking the congregation nearly to tears. Stoitchkov took the time to meet with the Chicago Bulgarians afterward. "Oh, yeah, we remember," Alexandrov said. "Everyone wanted to talk to him, touch him, see him." George Karov, who proudly announced Stoitchkov is from his hometown of Plovdic, also remembers. "When the whole team came to the church, the priest gave him a blessing," Karov said. "And then they beat the Greeks." At the same time, there is realism. Krumrov said at 34, Stoitchkov will be slowing down some. But MLS is not at World Cup level, he said, and Stoitchkov should be able to dominate the league for five years. On top of his age, several at church pointed out Stoitchkov's temper. "He is not the perfect gentleman," Krumrov said. "He's like [Dennis] Rodman, swearing at the refs all the time." But that's OK. He also is scoring goals in the name of Bulgaria. "He's the perfect example of a Bulgarian man," Krumrov said. "I hope everyone goes and brings flags. We're blessed." Amen.