It is now the next morning, my Eurostar train just popped out of the chunnel and the farmlands of France now fly by outside my train window. It is time to put down my Sunday Telegraph, since I just saw a quote from Glen Beck denouncing soccer and the World Cup. Apparently he is just as big a jackass on this side of the pond.
It is only fitting that England is now behind me (well, I am sitting backward so it is still in front of me technically but you know what I mean) as the US national soccer team now must move beyond last night’s emotional 1-1 tie with England and begin preparing for their next match against Slovenia. But before moving forward we should look back at the game one last time. Especially since it was the core of this trip I am on.
When a possible trip to the World Cup in South Africa fell through due to logistical and cost challenges (unpaid internet blogging doesn’t pay that well), I decided that the next best option would be to come to Europe and watch some of the games with the locals. Soccer has begun to grow as a spectator sport in the US, but in Europe it is a religion. A first stop to be among the Brits for the 2010 World Cup debut of their men against their former colonists seemed like an opportunity too good to pass up. So I didn’t.
Truth be told, I was apprehensive about the game. I like England and will cheer for them in every game they play the rest of this tournament (assuming they don’t play the US again), so I was never going to come into the game as Captain America. But last night I easily shook off any English bias and proudly cheered on the Stars and Stripes. I was even prepared to run down to the Thames and throw in a bunch of tea in the event of a US win.
About two hours before kick-off, the Mrs. and I left our hotel and weaved through the quiet streets of the upscale London neighborhood of Mayfair (think diplomats and oil money) to our destination for the evening – the Audley Pub. A perfect local neighborhood pub. Assuming getting there 2 hours early would provide ample time for securing a table, we walked in only to find every open table had been reserved through some advance reservation system we weren’t aware of. After some anxious moments we lucked upon a couple leaving a small corner table at the back of the room and leapt at it before it could be claimed.
Over the next two hours, we ate some food (the wings were surprisingly excellent, which as I tweeted seemed a bad omen for the Americans – if we can’t even have chicken wings….), drank beer and watched the British version of Wipeout with a mixture of shame and delight. The Mrs. huddled in the corner with her head buried in a British gossip magazine getting caught up on the latest news on the WAGs (that would be wives and girlfriends of National team players to the rest of us – sort of a print version of Basketball Wives with fewer weaves). Around us, the crowd began filing in as those with reserved tables began arriving and others without as much foresight hovered, looking for any place to sit.
Soon the place was packed, with every seat taken and large groups stuck in a standing room only area directly in front of the bar, which was not ideal for those of us trying to get another round. Fighting through a throng of fans whose attention is glued to the TV above your head is almost enough to get someone to stop drinking. However, given I was in a pub for a US/England World Cup game, I pushed on and was rewarded with a fresh London Pride. Score one for US perseverance.
Finally kick-off came and before I could even take my first in-game sip of beer, Steven Gerrard flashed across the penalty box and flicked a kick past US goalkeeper Tim Howard. 1-0 England 4 minutes into the game. Maybe those chicken wings weren’t as good as I thought.
The surprising number of US fans at this small pub reacted with groans and drooped heads while the English fans celebrated and relaxed. Maybe England was on to an easy opening win. Maybe this really is their year.
Much of the rest of the first half was spent in a sort of relaxed daze: joking about a BBC announcer calling one of the US players the ‘pace-iest player on the team’ (which I assume means quickest or fastest but could mean cheapest for all I know); talking with our neighbors; fighting to the bar for another round. That is until the 40th minute when Clint Dempsey sent a shot at British goalie Robert Green who let it trickle by and in for the equalizing goal. In real time, it looked like Dempsey had just powered it by Green but replays confirmed that Green simply dropped the ball like Hank Baskett fielding an on-side kick.
Now, I should note before going any further that one of the unexpected benefits of traveling to the UK for the game is that gambling is legal. Earlier in the week, I had dropped in one of the betting parlours and picked up some sheets for the game to study. While wandering Soho earlier in the day I had found another parlour and placed three bets:
1 –USA to win at odds of 11 to 2
2 – Clint Dempsey to score a goal at 10 to 3
3 – The game to be tied at half with England ultimately winning (Halftime/Full time: Draw/England) at 11 to 4. Think of this as a higher odds hedge to England winning
I mention this as an attempt to excuse the unconscious jump/yell/arm pump I did as the ball entered the net. Not only had the US tied the game prior to halftime but Dempsey had paid one bet while bringing back into play both of my other bets. As long as the game didn’t end in a tie, I would win 2 of my 3 bets. So, it was beyond patriotic pride that caused me to leap from my chair and chant “USA”in the face of the elderly woman sitting next to me, it was my own personal financial interests.
Which, I guess is as American as it gets.
The goal had a strange effect on the second half of the game in the pub. Where the majority of the first half was relaxed and fun for everyone in the bar, the second half became more and more tense with every passing minute as each opportunity was met with loud oohs and ahhs. While long minutes had passed in the first half without a single cheering comment, now every goalie stop or defensive steal was treated by a cheer and clap, while the other side would offer an encouraging word for their team.
A secret I wouldn’t reveal until after the game was that by about the 70th minute I started hoping for a draw, fairly confident that was as much as we could really ask for from the US side. Yes, this was in spite of my financial interests, I was willing to sacrifice for the greater good.
I guess that is the socialist in me that Fox News is always railing against.
As time wound down, it was immediately apparent the difference a tie can have depending on the expectations coming in. The US contingent clapped and commended the team, if anything like me, more relieved than anything that the US team didn’t embarrass themselves on the world’s biggest stage. The English fans were aghast that the lowly Americans had tied them at their game and once again began resigning themselves to a less than stellar performance at the World Cup.
This morning, while packing up our hotel room, I turned on TV and got much the same reaction. British fans and commentators were disappointed by the team, frustrated by the manager Fabio Capello’s decisions and the now legendary gaffe by Green in goal (though, he should get credit for making a great save on a Jozy Altidore shot in the second half. He lets that one in and saves the Dempsey shot and the result is the same, with the only one feeling different about the outcome is me after losing all my bets).
There was still no respect for an American side that had as many chances to take a lead as the British and was led by a phenomenal effort in their own goal by Tim Howard, but maybe they are still underestimating the American side. For the first time, the majority of the US team plays in European professional leagues. Where eight years ago, our team was an insulated team playing against each other in the MLS, the Americans are now not afraid of these great players. Howard has spent the last 9 months playing against all of these same players while starting in goal for Everton of the EPL, why would seeing Wayne Rooney or Frank Lampard now make him nervous? Clearly it didn’t.
So the US team moves on and so do I. First game down, on to the next one. For them that will be Friday versus Slovenia. For me, it will be the France vs. Mexico game on Thursday. Where the US/English game was seen from a pub in the heart of the Capital city amongst the ‘other team’, we are going old-school for Le Bleus – cheering along with the locals in a small village in the far eastern portion of France.
I sure hope they have HD TVs.
