World Cup Hangover
It’s been almost 4 weeks since the USMNT’s devastating loss to Ghana in the 2010 World Cup and yet I still can’t shake the thought of what might have been. Our effort and the subsequent result in Group Play was simultaneously historic, exciting, and in some small way disappointing. One particular ball rolled our way, a couple of questionable calls stifled a legendary albeit puzzling comeback, and then there was the shot heard round the world. The expectation was that we would make it to the Round of 16 and we exceeded that by stumbling our way to the top of Group play, with a little help from our friends.
I’ll admit, I hesitated. It is a constant theme in my adulthood to follow my favorite sports teams with caution. I fool myself into thinking it is some sign of maturity to not let myself get wrapped up in the emotion. In reality, it is self-preservation because me wrapped up in the emotion is no fun for everyone. Whatever you want to call it, I tempered my expectations of the USMNT, reminding myself that we are, after all, American and this is soccer we are talking about. Or is it football?
So despite all my talk of dropping a benjamin on a fresh-off-the-press Onyewu jersey, I held myself back. I didn’t even wear my Donovan branded Everton away kit to any of my treks to the bar at 10am to watch our matches. But then the shot happened. After nearly 2 hours of agony and impending heartbreak Landon finds the ball at his feet after a rare rebound seemingly inches away from the back of the net. In reality it was a very missable distance – a distance, in fact, that we had missed from multiple times throughout the match. But Donovan – and US soccer and its followers – would not be denied. This was a team – and Donovan a rejuvenated man – of destiny! Or so I thought.
And so I bought.
Fearing an overloaded Donovan bandwagon (and counting my aforementioned Donovan Everton kit a rare, unique gem), I shied from ordering the white US #10. So I was torn. I berated Onyewu for the entire tournament (it was probably too soon), Bradley was the hot pick, and Dempsey, well quite frankly I should have landed on Dempsey and his #8 that once adorned my junior varsity jersey. Wanting to pay homage to my fellow defenseman, I settled on the #3 of Carlos Bocanegra.
The wild popularity of the USMNT’s success caused a bit of shortage of official jerseys and so only just today I arrived home to a freshly minted Bocanegra Jersey awaiting me on my doorstep. It wasn’t with me when I watched us stage an incredible comeback against Slovenia. It didn’t suffer through numerous missed opportunities and the one more that it took and was taken. And it wasn’t there for me to wipe the tears from a crushing defeat. Although it’s 4 weeks late, I wear it with all of the joy in victory, agony in defeat, and pride in accomplishment that I felt for those two emotional weeks. Here’s to the World Cup and, more importantly, to the US Men’s National Team! Thanks for the ride!