A Country Defeated....

My title actually sounds much more melodramatic than I actually feel. I really only picked the US as one of the two teams from Group E to advance to the next round of the World Cup out of loyalty to my country, but in reality, I really only cared about Italy making it. How's that for un-patriotic?

It's not that I don't care about my country's team; I do. In fact, I sat here at work anxiously watching the match updates, and feeling the elation when they finally scored a goal and defeat when Ghana scored another one almost immediately after. Unfortunately, it became pretty clear the USA boys were just struggling. I think my apathy towards the US team has a lot to do with the fact that soccer isn't nearly as big here as it is in just about every other country in the world. And it is, quite frankly, a lot more fun to watch it in other countries.

In 1994, I was lucky to be in Europe for the World Cup. We were staying in Stresa, Italy, when the Italians were playing the match that ultimately put them in the final game against Brazil. Stresa is a fairly typical European lakeside village, complete with cobblestone streets, gaslight street lamps, dozens of ourdoor cafes with plenty of local people ready to chat with tourists, and a breathtaking view of Lake Maggiore and the surrounding islands.

That night a friend and I wandered down to the beaches of the lake and found an oceanside pub tucked under one of the cliffs. They had set up a huge screen and were broadcasting the game live (ironically, from the US). We decided to stay and watch, and settled ourselves into the sand. Little did we know we'd spend very little time actually sitting down.

The place was electric. I'd never felt such energy and celebration from a group of people before and we were quickly swept up in the pride these Italians felt for not only their team, but for the game, as well. You couldn't help but root for the Italian team as our fellow spectators clung to each other in anticipation, and handed out hugs and kisses when something good happened. I don't think they knew who were were, nor did they care; we were there sharing the moment, sharing the experience, and that was all that mattered. We screamed and cheered as though we were a part of their country, too and for that night, I honestly believe we were. And when the Italians won, securing their place in the final World Cup game, the entire village exploded in cheers. And I really do mean the entire village. As we walked back to the hotel, we could hear car horns, and cheering from all over and well into the night.

Twelve years later that night remains ingrained in my memory as one of the best of my life. It's disappointing that soccer hasn't caught on in the US the way it has around the world because to me, the game and the World Cup stand for unity, celebration, pride, and a common love for playing and/or watching the game. At a time when it feels like everyone is busy taking sides on issues, the US could use a little bit of unity. As for me, I hope that someday I can re-live my Italian World Cup experience, but for now I'll settle for remembering how happy and I excited I felt for a country that really knows how to celebrate a victory.