Do you remember the last time the United States Men’s National team was fun?
That’s not the same question as “do you remember the last time the United States Men’s National team was good,” or even “do you remember the last time the United States Men’s National team was competent.” Being good, or competent enough to win games, can be fun in its own right, sure. But when was the last time you felt joy watching the USMNT, not even in terms of a victory or series of victories, but just by virtue of the way they were playing the game?
I’m tempted to say 2009, in a Confederations Cup span of two-and-a-half games where the USMNT told Charlie Davies to run forever, told Jozy Altidore to occupy center backs, and let Landon Donovan, Clint Dempsey, and Benny Feilhaber (!) create havoc beneath them. More realistically, it was probably that game against Panama in 2017, where Christian Pulisic ran utter riot, the rest of the U.S. attack realized no one could stop him, and simply facilitated a masterclass for the teenager, the type of performance that made qualification for the 2018 World Cup look like a sure thing. Can’t miss. Never in a million years could that team drop a result in Trinidad.
There have been starts and stops since then, sure. But it’s been a long, long time since I’ve really had some pure, unadulterated fun watching the United States men play soccer. The last time I wrote on the subject almost exactly one year ago, I compared being a USMNT fan to having an existential embodiment of death chase you through the West Texas portions of the Internet. So, yeah. You could say it’s been a rough one.
This week? This week I’ve had a blast.
I honestly cannot recall enjoying watching a USMNT goal as much as I enjoyed watching Nico Gioacchini score this one yesterday. Not simply for the joy of watching my team score a goal, but watching my team score such an aesthetically pleasing one. The weight of the pass from Tyler Adams to Weston McKennie, darting diagonally through the box to the endline, the scrappiness and punctuality from Miazga and Gioacchini in the box to simply do the things that made the most sense, getting the ball into the back of the net. It wasn’t the most complex of moves that I’ve ever seen, but it was effective and beautiful. Four touches, four players, goal.
Part of it might simply be the amount of time spent waiting for the USMNT to just play a game at all, sure. And part of it is playing opponents that aren’t the strongest (read: that might have been the worst Panama side I’ve ever seen in my life). But it felt like many things. It felt like players like Weston McKennie and Tyler Adams, who we’ve waited for and expected to be good for so long, were finally clicking in the midfield in dominant fashion. It was seeing Yunus Musah instantly gel with those other two, and make Gregg Berhalter’s preferred midfield set-up look not only plausible for the US, but like it could actually match up against stern competition. It was seeing John Brooks pinpoint passes all over the field against Wales, and the Welsh looking like they simply could not do a thing about it. It was watching a bunch of these kids get out on the field and just look so damn happy they got to play for the U.S. at all.
Gio Reyna got a goal. Sebastian Soto got goals. Richie Ledezma got assists. Tim Weah got on the field at all. It was the culmination of the waiting, hoping, and dreaming the fanbase has done basically since beating France 3-2 in the U20 World Cup over a year ago. The kids were alright, and even some of the adults were, too.
And no, it wasn’t perfect. We basically only got to see Matt Miazga at right back over the course of the two games, where he was largely fine, did a couple decent things, and made a couple of poor errors. Chris Richards had to settle for a cameo, and we saw even less of Owen Otasowie. The false nine project of Sebastian Lletget didn’t bear much fruit, not so much by fault of Sebastian Lletget as much as by Konrad and Gio not really knowing how to go about their roles on the wing without a striker in front of them. Giving up two goals to, again, the weakest Panama side I’ve ever seen is less than ideal. And Tim Ream is still on the team, and growing his hair out has done nothing to really make me like his play more, which is a shame (the hair looks great, though, Tim).
A year ago, patience was preached to us. It’s possible that this was always going to be the outcome, that my concerns and sadness and the sheer misery I felt watching the USMNT all the time was all necessary to reach this point, and that we were always simple X amount of players away from the Berhalter process to come to fruition. That does not nullify the validity of the emotions and feelings watching a team in the present. And, once again, need I remind all of us that we hadn’t really been happy watching this team for over three years. Three years! I was still using Facebook three years ago!
For two meaningless, kind of sloppy, questionably-ethical-given-the-whole-global-pandemic-thing games, I was happy watching my team play. More than that, I was excited watching them play. I was having fun. In a year like 2020, sometimes that’s all you really need to be considered a success. There’s a dearth of fun, worldwide. Getting some from a USMNT soccer game was unexpected, but entirely welcome.
It’s a simply joy. A tiny thing. But it helps.