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Us-Brazil Soccer: We've Still Come A Long Way, Baby

by Christopher McIntosh
07/01/2009

I think I'm finally ready to talk about this, doctor.

I think what hurts the most is that I truly believed. Having been raised Catholic and a Braves fan to boot, I've learned that the most effective way to maintain sanity is to assume the worst.

That way, you'll never be disappointed.

And truth be told, there was a part of me that did. I knew deep down that it could happen. 45 minutes is a *long* time when you're dealing with the most attractive one on the planet. No matter how well things were going, I knew they were out of our league.

In the end the one from South America broke my heart. I can deal with it. But it doesn't mean I have to like it.

I should have known it was coming. I set myself up for disaster by watching the game, in, of all places, a Mexican restaurant. Aside from the Brazilians themselves, there was only one group of people rooting as hard, if not harder for a Yankee whipping--Mexican soccer fans. Mexican soccer fans root against the US as hard as Scottish fans root for England to fall flat on their [rhymes with class].

I even went so far as to look sympathetically at the kid in the yellow number 10 shirt who I encountered on my way to the bathroom at halftime and mumble, "Sorry, guy".

He looked at me like I was an idiot. He was right.

I am a soccer fan. I root for the United States and have my entire life. I started playing well before the US could even make the World Cup finals without a hosts exemption and have watched the game evolve in ways I never could have imagined as a kid.

Did I have any idea that the little twerp I played against (and even tried to fight me) when I was ten with the prodigious mullet and absolutely *sick* speed would end up not only playing professionally, but doing it in the United States? And then move on to score for a team that reached the World Cup quarterfinals? Hell, could I even imagine that this mythical "league" he played in would have a regular game of the week on ESPN and spot in the highlight cycle of the innumerable Sportscenters that run each and every day?

Could I have imagined that a *different guy* we specifically game planned against for years known by only one name, "Clint" would end up one of the handful of US players to ever fully grace the cover of Sports Illustrated?

What do you think I would have said if you'd looked at me when I was thirteen and we were promptly failing to qualify for the 1990 cup in Italy with a collection of ex-pats, immigrant sons, semi-pro, and college players, that the biggest concern for the 2009 version of the US team was that we were in fact *too good* for our region and that until we had some real competition in our region for qualification we would have problems competing with the rest of the world?

Could I possibly imagine at that time that a major Spanish club would pay 10 million dollars for a teenage prodigy from the US? A man who was so young and gifted that he had not even been born yet.

What about telling this young part-time goalkeeper that in less than fifteen years there would come a time where fully twenty percent of the starting keepers in the top league in the world would be from the United States? Or that roughly two thirds of the team would play for teams in Europe--many starting and some even legitimate stars for teams in the best league in the world?

What if you said that the US team--after getting embarrassed by Brazil and Italy by a combined 6-1, would whip the African champions 3 nil? And then end the number one team in the world's record win streak of 15 games and 35 games without a loss? In a legitimate, competitive tournament. Fielding a full strength team and playing with 100% effort--no friendly here.

I would have laughed. I would have ignored you. I would have completely discounted it as bluster from just another soccerhead who'd drank the kool-aid. I was (and am) fully in love with the game, but I've never been stupid.

I went to lunch with some people before the US-Spain game and they asked two questions. Incredulously, one was which team did I support? Given that the only foreign connections I have are a great-grandfather who lived all of his first two years in Scotland and have no obvious ties to any other country I found this to be among the stupidest questions I've received in years. And I teach for a living. This was also coming from a woman who will very soon be a prominent professor in international relations. I know.

The other question? What did I think was going to happen? I told them the odds (7-1 on a US win outright) and said I thought that that was absolutely silly. They thought I meant they were too long. I thought anywhere between 12 and 25 to 1 would have been about right. But what did I think was going to happen? I told them one of two things. Either Spain was going to fire and we were going to catch a deserved whipping by a team composed of players worth more than most of our squad combined.

Or I was going to see what might be the greatest US victory of my life.

So you can see how I was more than ready to believe. If they could beat Spain, they could beat anyone.

Spain, truth be told, is a more talented team than Brazil. But Brazil is royalty. They are synonymous with soccer and no matter their current form, players, coaching staff, or state of their country, they are *always* the favorites at any tournament they enter.

Beating Spain was dreamland. One of the top five upsets of the twentieth century.

Beating Brazil would be bigger. No, it wouldn't have made soccer a major sport in the US. And it wouldn't have changed the mind of sportswriters around the country who consistently downplay the sport's significance. But it would have established the US team in the cultural psyche of the American sports fan. Tell your average sports fan that the US beat Spain, the number one team in the world, and they might be impressed. Tell them they beat Brazil and *everyone* would take notice. I know nothing about Opera but if you tell me someone's on par with Pavarotti, I'm impressed. Same with Brazil.

So, doc, you can see how I'm a little depressed. I've seen the full arc of American soccer. And while this wasn't quite the rainbow's end (it's not the World Cup), beating Brazil to win a FIFA tournament the year before the 2010 World Cup in South Africa would definitely feel like finding a pot of gold at the end of a long, arduous, slow, halting, journey.

45 minutes. That's all we needed. 45 more minutes of magic. 45 more minutes of effort, luck, and skill combining to capture the greatest achievement my country has ever and, still may ever see, in my lifetime.

46 seconds is all it took. One pass. One moment of magic. One bit of luck. And Brazil had cut the lead in half, chopped our legs out from under us and destroyed our confidence. Deep down, we knew it was just a matter of time. One quick turn and a shot through the legs of a defender who'd had nothing but a monster of a tournament and was marking his man as tightly as anyone could ask and it all evaporated.

Did we choke? If by that, do you mean did we climb the mountain so fast that we forgot to look down and once we did we realized that we were in way over our head and started to seize up rather than seize the opportunity, then yes, we did.

Did we get beat by a better team? Undoubtedly. Brazil scores goals as naturally as the rest of us breathe. With one or two possible exceptions, if they had to pick a single team from among the 46 players on both squads, every position would be held by a Portuguese speaking, one name wonder from south of the equator. A two goal lead--basically insurmountable in any other context--was nowhere near enough to feel comfortable against this group.

So how do I feel, you ask? As a soccer fan, I'm proud of how our team performed from the kickoff of the Egypt game on. Do I think we altered the landscape of American sports? Not a chance. Will the rest of the world now no longer look at the US as a pushover? Frankly, we reached that status about five years ago, so yes, but no.

Am I satisified? Was this a moral victory? Taking a two goal lead on Brazil into halftime and pushing them further than anyone else in awhile, are you content with that?

Not in the slightest. But that's why I'm ready to talk about this. If I were willing to accept this--as I gladly would have five-ten years ago--then it wouldn't mean that my team--and the sport--have progressed as far as they have.

I'm ready to debate Bradley's absurd substitutions. I'm wondering why Donovan can't produce like he did every other time he puts on a white shirt with red and blue trim. I want to know why Altidore can't turn his obvious talent into offensive production.

As one writer put it, Clint Dempsey's reaction--he of the goals that sealed qualification for the semi's, the victory against Spain, and appeared to put the game out of Brazil's reach--was what should provide solace for every American soccer fan.

After the game, the guy known as "Deuce" and a (semi) legitimate hip hop artist to boot, sobbed. Openly.

That's what players on good teams do when they catch a quick one-two to the stomach and jaw, knocking them unconscious, leaving them empty handed and wondering what happened to the trophy they thought they had fully in their grasp.

What it's not is the reaction of someone just happy to be there. And it's that image, as much as any of the goals, saves, or last ditch tackles that will give me solace.

We've earned the right to get depressed when we lose.

Even to Brazil.