Before the contest, the U.S. soccer team, having lost three games in a row, seemed in rather desperate straits in their bid to qualify for next June’s World Cup final in Japan and South Korea. The U.S. stood fourth in its group–behind Costa Rica, Honduras and Mexico–with only two games to go and three teams to qualify. It appeared that the Americans would have to win their last two games to earn their fourth straight Cup appearance. And first up were the Reggae Boys, a squad that had outperformed the U.S. at the World Cup in France in 1998 and which had tied the Americans the last five times they played. Coach Bruce Arena could only hope that his team would set aside all the distractions–the losing streak, the injuries that had kept three of his top forwards out of the lineup and, above all, the ominous rumblings in the world–and return to the early form that had folks dubbing the Yanks the region’s new soccer power.
But setting aside that last set of distractions would prove almost impossible. Just before the team was scheduled to go onto the field for its pre-game warm-up, American launched its attack on Afghanistan. Arena, who was informed of the military action, debated briefly whether to share the news with his players. Very briefly. “I wasn’t trying to use it as any way of motivating them because they were ready to play,” he said. “It was just right to tell them. They had a right to know.” Whatever his intent, Arena suspected the news would infuse his team with a little more energy and emotion. “If our country could make this kind of commitment, well then this was nothing…a commitment for 90 minutes in a stupid, little soccer game.”
Of course, soccer is Arena’s life, so he was quickly backpedaling from that “stupid” notion. But his players heard his message loud and clear. Pro soccer players are a bit more sophisticated about the larger world than, say, the NFL players who were also competing Sunday afternoon. More than half the U.S.’s starting lineup against Jamaica currently lives and plays abroad (in five different countries). And they were, after all, competing for the chance to play in the World Cup, which is a truly a world cup in a way that the World Series is not remotely a world series. “I think what the coach was doing was putting things in perspective,” says defender Eddie Pope. “You have to step back and realize that this is just game. If we lost, it wasn’t going to be the end of the world. There were far more important things out there.”
ABC certainly thought so, sticking with its newscast instead of the scheduled soccer telecast and scotching one of the rare network showcases for the national team. (The networks are very public-service-minded when their option is a low-rated sport. But nobody at CBS or Fox seriously considered staying with war rather than football. And reporters watching the president’s speech in the press box at Foxboro were a little stunned when the local CBS affiliate cut off Bush mid-sentence to pick up the New England Patriots game.) So only the 40,000 fans in Foxboro got to see a rather remarkable drama, as it played out on the field there and elsewhere.
With some 10 minutes to go in the game, the U.S., having squandered a one-goal lead, was desperately trying to mount a sustained attack. Landon Donovan, at 19 the youngest player on the American team and perhaps the most ballyhooed soccer player ever born in this country, gave a hint of his mettle. He streaked down the right side into the penalty area where he appeared to have a step on the defender but was taken down hard. The Salvadoran referee awarded the U.S. a penalty kick and you could practically hear the collective rumble of the American fans’ nervous stomachs.
It was a missed penalty kick, by the team’s all-time leading scorer Earnie Stewart, that cost the team its last home game against Honduras. And now Stewart and a few other players hovered around the ball, executing the curious soccer ritual of deciding who would take the kick. This is not the coach’s call. It is made on field in some ambiguous fashion by the players themselves. “I don’t care who takes it,” said Arena afterward. “I just care that it ends up in the back of the net.” Stewart was willing to give it a go again. So was veteran defender Jeff Agoos. But Joe-Max Moore, who scored the team’s first goal on a neat header, had the ball and didn’t intend to give it up. “You feel OK?” Stewart inquired. Moore, who once starred on the same field for the New England Revolution before going off to play in England, nodded, then placed the ball on the penalty spot. “I was thinking of turning my back,” says Arena. “But then I thought, if he has the courage to take it, I ought to at least be able to watch.”
Moore’s shot wasn’t perfect but it was a firmly struck ground ball that was tucked neatly inside the post–and would probably have still found net even if the keeper had guessed the right direction and timed his dive perfectly. When the final whistle sounded and the Americans had their precious victory and 3 points in the standings, the pervasive feeling was one of relief rather than jubilation. The jubilation, though, would come a few minutes later when the public address announcer informed exiting fans–and the team still milling about the field–that the U.S. had hit a stunning soccer trifecta. Costa Rica, which seemed to have little incentive, having already qualified for the World Cup, had held Mexico to a 0-0 draw. And Trinidad and Tobago, which hadn’t won a game in the qualifying round and was a 11-1 betting underdog in Honduras, had miraculously pulled off a 1-0 upset. The U.S. was suddenly in the World Cup, the 21st team to qualify for the 32-team field. Arena just shook his head trying to make sense the vagaries of the game. “I would have bet the house on the result in Honduras,” he said.
Sunday’s success is no assurance of more ahead, though Arena pledged that the U.S. would put a better team in the World Cup–at least better than the one that finished last out of the 32 teams in 1998. But, at the very least, qualification is essential to keep interest from flagging in a sport that is still struggling to take hold in this country. “To not go to the World Cup would be a big nose-dive for U.S. soccer,” said Donovan. But the players had begun this game with some real perspective and not even the magical result was going to change that. “We had a very special feeling, more special than any other time I can remember when the national anthem was played,” says Agoos, who, at 33, was the oldest American player on the field and was playing his 115th game for the national team. “Today we were playing for more than the guys on the field and our fans.”
