I love the World Cup. I love that every four years, people from all over the world focus passionately on one thing: soccer. I love that, for a month or so, the world seems a better, safer, and more joyful place to be. 22 guys and a little white ball will do that.
I never played soccer as a kid. In northern Minnesota, “football” meant putting on pads and running into each other at full speed. It wasn’t until I got to college that I discovered the game. The soccer team needed a goalkeeper. Having grown up an athlete, I jumped at the challenge. Once I learned the rules, footwork, diving, and playing angles, it was a lot of fun. Unfortunately, my team sucked, so not only did I get beaten up frequently, my goals against average was atrocious. Even so, I learned to love the game unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. I haven’t stopped a shot in anger in 30+ years, but I still find myself reacting like a goalkeeper when I’m watching a game.
I missed my last season of eligibility because I’d suffered seven concussions (that I recall) over six months of playing during my junior year. This was well before much of anything was known then about the long-term effects of repeated concussions, but even then I realized another season of that would probably leave me with the IQ of a cauliflower.
For a brief moment, I toyed with the idea of going to England and trying to catch on with a 3rd or 4th division side. Even if I’d been able to get a work permit in England (not the easiest thing to do then) and somehow managed to find a side I could make, I probably would’ve starved. Then there was the concussion problem, so I eventually wised up and called it a career. I did a little bit of coaching, which kept me close to the game, but I missed (and still miss) being on the pitch between the posts. Thirty-plus years down the road, and I still miss playing. I still miss the butterflies and the terror of facing down an opposing forward on a breakaway and throwing myself into a crowd of leaping bodies to punch a corner kick out of harm’s way.
Thirty-plus years on I’ve learned to love the game from the standpoint of a fan. I’ve stood on the terraces at a Chelsea-Manchester United Match, and watched the best players in the world do their thing. Though I’ve lived and worked in three different war zones, I’ve never feared for my safety the way I did that day. I’ve attended games in Cyprus, and I’m a passionate fan of the MLS’ Portland Timbers. I love that the game is literally the universal language. Two fans may not speak the same language, but they’ll both understand the game and how it should be played. We can appreciate Leonel Messi’s artistry or Cristiano Ronaldo’s breathtaking skill.
One of the most gratifying things for me has been watching soccer develop in this country. It’s no longer unusual for young kids to play soccer, and the term “soccer mom” has become an accepted part of our vernacular. Major League Soccer took awhile to catch on, but the league finally seems to be gaining traction as the quality of play improves. No, it’s not the English Premier League, but MLS is improving. The top teams in MLS might be able to hold their own teams near the bottom of the EPL table. Increasing numbers of talented foreigners are discovering that they can play high-level soccer in America and be free of the madness that would surround them in Europe.
The level of competition on the world stage is beginning to even out. England and Spain (the defending World Cup champion) have already been eliminated, and Italy and Portugal are on the ropes. This year’s competition promises to have some unexpected flags in the knockout round. No longer is the World Cup seen by Americans as a quaint distraction best left to foreigners who can’t grasp our brand of football. Americans now appreciate the game in greater numbers, and ESPN has done its part to make the tournament ubiquitous.
I love that soccer is the one place where no American considers claiming American exceptionalism. We have a ways to go in order to be mentioned in the same breath as Germany, Brazil, Italy, and France- all previous World Cup champions. The gap is closing as the next generation of young players begin to come of age. I believe that America will win a World Cup in my lifetime…though I may have to live to a very old age to see it.
I’ve watched all or part of almost every World Cup match so far, and you can bet I’ll be sitting in front of a television this afternoon watching the US play Portugal.
I believe that we can win….
