The USMNT is back, and so are we - the fans who just wanted to care again
It's been 2,533 days since the USMNT that we fell in love died. But it's back. And we're back.
This is turning into a U.S. Soccer newsletter isn’t it? I’m not mad about it. If you like this stuff, go ahead and subscribe and tell your friends.
The referee went over to watch some TV. That’s basically what VAR is, which is pretty stupid and, weirdly, a thing we just decided was normal and should be part of the entertainment product that is soccer. But he did go over there, and then Tata Martino also went over there, lovingly putting his arm around the referee. It was sweet, really. But also not allowed, so he got a red card and was sent off. Then Martino and Gregg Berhalter had a laugh and, for a minute you forgot it was extra time of a cup final because what the hell was actually happening out there?
Everything about the sequence was hilarious and ridiculous. But the referee finished watching some TV and pointed to the penalty spot.
HOLY CRAP WE HAD A PENALTY.
A penalty. A chance to beat Mexico in a final, take the crown of Concacaf’s best, if only for a month because the Gold Cup is coming up then qualifying and honestly how do we even crown a champion in this region anymore? Is the Nations League even a real competition? Again, nothing makes sense, but it didn’t matter.
PENALTY.
So Christian Pulisic put the ball down on the spot and stepped back. The bar held their breath and went silent. At least I think that’s what happened; I wasn’t entirely clear because I had retreated from all the fans in the bar and was hiding in the corner where I could hide behind the wall.
Me, actually hiding in the corner last night before the Pulisic penalty kick.
Nervous. Anxious. Putting my whole heart into the outcome of 22 guys running around in short shorts - specifically how 11 of them do because they wear the generic crest of the country I was born and raised in (and don’t even really like all that much).
That’s when I realized “I’m all the way back in on the USMNT again, aren’t I? Like ALL. THE. WAY. BACK.”
The years of wandering in the darkness were over. It felt like it used to. That this was my team.
Pulisic made the penalty. Another round of referee watching the TV gave Mexico a penalty, which Ethan Horvath saved, and then the final whistle went. The U.S. were kings of Concacaf again. The USMNT was back. But, maybe more importantly, I was back. We were back. Those of us who poured ourselves into this team for so many years were back, and it wasn’t the win that did it, although I really did enjoy the winning.
At some point in those 120 minutes, even before we won, I think it hit all of us. Maybe it hit you during Pulisic’s penalty, or maybe it was during one of the skirmishes, or maybe it was seeing Claudio Reyna watching his son score for the USMNT and making us all feel incredibly old. But I think we all had a moment when we realized something - the dear, sweet, soaring, unhealthy love of the USMNT was back.
It’s been so long since the USMNT could capture us that there is an entire generation of people who don’t know what it’s like to be enraptured by this national team. To believe in them. To feel like we’re all climbing a ladder together. It’s a beautiful and often painful thing to be a part of, but damn if it isn’t intoxicating.
We hopped onto this train a decade ago, or two, or three. For me it goes back to the 1998 World Cup, and when that team imploded, the 1999 USWNT brought me back in, then qualifying for 2002 and that amazing run in South Korea locked me in. For others it may have been the 2006 World Cup, or 2010, or something else. But if you became a fan before 2014, you were on this ride. There were dips and rough times, but you felt like you were part of something growing, and that’s what kept you coming back.
The momentum the USMNT had from 1990 until 2014 was constantly growing. The team was getting better and better, breaking new ground, doing new things. It mattered to be part of that. To go on that ride. And that optimism and belief, born out by a team that was continually improving drove that. It’s why we lived and died with the team, even in those small moments where it crushed us.
We had that incredible match against Portugal in the 2002 World Cup, where Brian McBride’s third goal sent us into delirium in the middle of the night. Where Landon Donovan announced himself to the world against Mexico, and where even Hugh Dallas screwing us against Germany and denying us a World Cup semifinal couldn’t wipe a smile off our faces. We lived through a team we overhyped four years later only to get crushed, cry, and come back in 2007 with Benny and his Jets at Soldier Field. We overcame near disaster against Slovenia in South Africa, dogpiled on Landon as Algeria cried, then broke down when Ghana ruined us again. But John Brooks got us revenge in Brazil, and Clint Dempsey scored with his dick. In between we made Crew Stadium a fortress and built a real culture around a team that most of the world laughed at, but we couldn’t stop believing in.
But five days after the 2014 World Cup group stage ended - where Brooks finally beat Ghana, Dempsey got us a result against Portugal and we survived a downpour against Germany to make it out of the group - the USMNT that we loved, grew with and never stopped believing in died.
Tim Howard had a match for the ages, an offside flag made Chris Wondolowski’s miss not even matter, Julian Green convinced us he might be the truth, but in the end Belgium were just better than us. It happens. There was nothing to be ashamed of. Our USMNT battled and, while hurt, we thought it was just another step. We’d been through this before. But what we didn’t know is that was the last time our USMNT would be the USMNT we fell in love with.
From our living rooms, bars or on the road in miserable weather, it was our team.
For three years, the team wandered aimlessly, through the collapse under Jurgen Klinsmann and Bruce Arena driving us straight into the darkness - missing the 2018 World Cup. And while that loss in Couva was the day of reckoning, the truth was the team had died already, it just took missing the World Cup to make everyone realize that the growth, the belief, the team we loved had really died with that loss to Belgium.
July 1, 2014 was the day it all ended.
Since that day we’ve been looking for our USMNT. Even since Couva, we still put in the time, watching the best generation of young talent the team has ever had come up, star at big European clubs and even show us a little promise in friendlies, but it wasn’t the same. We were still searching. Trying to fill that emptiness and get back to not just hoping for the future or thinking it will get there eventually, but for that day we really believed again. The day the team was ours again.
That day was Sunday. After 2,533 days, our USMNT was back.
At some point in those 120 minutes, you found yourself feeling like it was 2014 again. Or 2010. Or 2001. Or 1998. Anytime in that glorious 24-year time when the USMNT became the team you fell in love with. The team we fell in love with.
I don’t know if this new USMNT will take on the same identity of those teams from 1990 to 2014. Probably not. After all, those teams weren’t that talented. These kids are. And there’s a big difference between starting something and revitalizing it. What the USMNT is doing now is very different from the teams of the 90’s and 2000’s, but they’re growing. They’re building towards something. That ephemeral something is what we had before. And what we have again. A reason to believe. To be optimistic. That this team is worth our everything.
Weston McKennie, Tyler Adams, Christian Pulisic, Gio Reyna and the rest of these kids are going to chart a new path and take the team somewhere new. Hopefully beyond anything we have seen from the USMNT before. Something more akin to the USWNT. But wherever they go, we’re going to be there with them again. We’re going to pour our heart and souls into them again. And you can find me hiding in the corner, because we’re all the way back, baby.