By Chris Higginbotham
After watching the United States National Team get run over by the Italians and the Brazilians in the Confederations Cup in South Africa, I had given up on the Americans, my national team. When my alarm went off at 2:25 this morning, I dismissed it – rolled over and pulled the blanket up over my shoulder. No point in waking up to watch our side get steamrolled by another team in another disappointing international tournament.
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USA's Charlie Davies, back to camera, and teammate Michael Bradley, right, react after fellow team member Clint Dempsey, background left, scored their third goal during their Confederations Cup Group B soccer match at the Royal Bafokeng Stadium in Rustenburg, South Africa, Sunday, June 21, 2009. Davies scored the first goal. [CFP] |
So I was simultaneously stung and elated when I read the news this morning: U.S. moves on, Italy and Egypt go home.
On my computer was saved a draft of the article I originally planned to send today. The opening sentence: "Few understand the pain of the American soccer fan."
Now, in my own defense, the article focused primarily on the word "soccer," which is really a pretty stupid word. I hate it. We give the name "football" to a sport in which only two people actually touch the ball with their feet and they're generally regarded as the two softest positions on the team. Then we take a silly word no one but a few snooty English use and ascribe it to the most popular game in the world.
But I did go on from there in my description of disappointment. The relatively few Americans who keep up with football have grown accustomed to poor shows in international tournaments. The U.S. sent what many dubbed the best American football team in history to Germany in 2006. I watched the opening game on the big screen in the official fan zone in Kaiserslautern, one of the tournament host cities. I sat next to a nine-year-old kid from the Czech Republic who was very polite as his countrymen ran circles around the Americans. He said, in halting English, "American football ist not so goot."
After two losses and a draw, a flight home for the Americans proved him right.
It was humiliating, but the U.S. side has had some success since then, mostly against CONCACAF teams. They didn't get coach Juergen Klinsmann like many hoped, but Bob Bradley won the Gold Cup and led his boys to some success in international friendlies. The U.S. beat southern rival Mexico on my birthday this year – thanks for that, by the way – and looked good in World Cup qualifiers.
But the last month has been like a bad dream. In a four-game stretch beginning with the decimation at the hands of Costa Rica and ending with the non-starter against Brazil, the U.S. side scored four goals. Three of them came on penalty kicks. They managed only five shots against the Brazilians, zero of which were on target. Going into the game against the African champions, it was kind of easy to feel down about the Red, White and Blue.
Then, seemingly against all odds, our side came out and pummeled an Egyptian team that had embarrassed Italy a couple of days earlier. Some help from the Brazilians sent the Americans on. It's excellent news, even if most Americans will likely not pay any attention.
But let's not go too far; it isn't a sign that the U.S. is about to dominate. American football is still a forgotten sport at home and the team is young and without the superstars other squads boast. The next opponent on the list, Spain, is unbeaten in 35 games and has two of the world's most formidable scorers in Fernando Torres and David Villa. The American advance to stage two of the Confederations Cup is a reminder to fans like me, though, that when your team looks to be struggling, you have to keep your head high.
"All of the critics in America who said we were no good after losing to Italy and Brazil, let's see what they say now," said Michael Bradley, who scored a goal for his father, the team's coach, on Father's Day.
Well, Michael, I'll say two things: first, congratulations. I'm sorry I doubted.
Second, I hope Italy's trip home is especially somber for New Jersey-born Giuseppe Rossi. Have a nice trip, pal.
You better believe that when my alarm goes off at 2:00 Thursday morning, I'll be getting up without complaint and I'll be cheering our boys on against Spain, no matter how long the odds against them.
(China.org.cn June 23, 2009)