When the final whistle blew on the United States’ World Cup run, I was happy.
The team had just been eliminated by Ghana, the same nation that knocked it out of the 2006 tournament (by the same 2-1 score, no less).
So why was I happy?
Because the U.S. team kindled the hopes and dreams of an entire nation. Our boys brought the country together.
The World Cup came at a perfect time for the U.S.
The Gulf of Mexico continues to be devastated by the worst man-made ecological disaster in world history, and the right is attacking the left for the way it is handling the issue. Anyone remember when the Democrats did the same thing to the Republicans about Katrina?
The economy isn’t great. I couldn’t find a job waiting tables, so I took one as a restaurant mascot (my training consisted of repeating the phrase “What would Herky do?”). Of course, I actually have a job — two, if you count writing this column — at a time when plenty of people don’t.
No matter what dire straits the country finds itself in, however, it always has something to pull it out of the muck and bring the people together — sports.
If only for a few brief hours, sport allows the American people to band together in their love of Michael Jordan and hatred of the Yankees.
Even if you’re not normally a soccer fan — and a lot of you still aren’t — I bet you know about the botched call heard ’round the world in the U.S.-Slovenia game.
ABC kept cutting away from the Ghana match to show the thousands of people coming together to watch the game in Kansas City.
Landon Donovan reportedly cried after watching a YouTube compilation of American reactions to his miracle goal against Algeria.
America isn’t the only locale to experience unity during the World Cup. Whenever an African team has taken the field in this tournament, the decibel level of the vuvuzelas has increased dramatically (yes, it’s apparently very possible for those damn things to get louder).
In the first World Cup on the continent, all of Africa stood behind Côte d’Ivoire’s Didier Drogba, Ghana’s Asamoah Gyan, and Cameroon’s Samuel Eto’o. That’s unity.
The World Cup has ended a civil war (Côte d’Ivoire’s qualification for the 2006 tournament is credited with bringing together the country’s warring parties). The world speaks somewhere around 6,000 languages, but soccer transcends them all. It’s a simple game; a beautiful game; a game that makes the world stop for a month every four years.
Although the United States will no longer play in the 2010 World Cup, the team brought us together. During the team’s two-week run to the elimination stages, I was not a Democrat, Republican, Libertarian, Tea Party person (that’s the term, right?), gay, straight, pro-life, or pro-choice. I was American.
So thank you, Lando. Thank you, Tim-may. Thank you Clint, Boca, Gooch, Jozy, and BabyBradley. Thank you to all the U.S. players, coaches, trainers, and fans.
The World Cup has given America the soccer fever that has afflicted the world for decades.
And the only prescription is more vuvuzela.