Rudderless

rud·der·less

ˈrədərləs/

adjective

adjective: rudderless

1. lacking a rudder.

   • lacking a clear sense of one's aims or principles.

     "today's leadership is rudderless"

Rudderless.

That's the one word that kept creeping into my mind, over and over again, as I watched another U.S. National Soccer team, this time the women, be outclassed and outworked.

Yes, we lost 2-0 to a very good French national team that has beaten Germany and Brazil in the past few months.

Yes, the U.S. was without some of its key players as Megan Rapinoe, Christine Rampone, Hope Solo, and Sydney Leroux didn't dress for the match and the first three didn't even make the trip for the friendlies with France and England.

Yes, the rest of the world is catching us along with the other members of the formerly exclusive club of countries that can contend for the women's World Cup.

All the more reason to need, to have to rely on and have confidence in, your coach. And in my opinion the game against the French demonstrated that the team appears to be a rudderless ship.

When, just seven months ago, U.S. Soccer decided to unceremoniously dump national team coach Tom Sermanni I wrote that the candidates to replace him were uninspiring and that, if the powers-that-be had concluded that they had made the wrong decision in hiring Sermanni, they did not have the luxury of making a second mistake in choosing his replacement with the World Cup a year away. 

One of those candidates, Jill Ellis, was chosen as the temporary and then permanent replacement for Sermanni. Ellis was born in England and her father John was a soccer coach as well. After playing for William & Mary, Ellis embarked on a coaching career in college that culminated at UCLA, where the program made eight NCAA Final Fours in her 12 years as coach. She then moved to U.S. Soccer on a full-time basis in 2011. Ellis was the temporary head coach for the team when Pia Sundhage departed in 2012 as well.

Ellis may be a fine coach. She may have the ear of her players. She may be a good organizer. She may be a good practice coach.

But she's never won anything. 

A couple of Nordic Cups, whatever that is. But no NCAA titles (in eight visits). No U-20 World Cups (the team that she coached in 2010 didn't make the semi-finals). 

When it mattered, when it came time to play the game that was the difference between finishing second or third or fourth best or hoisting the trophy in triumph, her teams always came up short. And, while sports are a perfect venue for second chances and new opportunities, nothing that has occurred since Ellis took permanent control of arguably the most prominent women's national sports team in the World indicates that things will be different this time around.

Strategically, the handling of the team, and its goalkeeper/diva Hope Solo in particular, has been troubling. While Ellis was quoted in the New York Times yesterday as saying "for every player, you have to have a Plan B" there was clearly no Plan B for the U.S. at the position that has always been one of the biggest strengths of its men's and women's teams (keeper, not diva). Julie Foudy pointed out as much in ESPNW the day before Ellis' comment was published, and I submit that I did the same over two years ago.

Tactically, the Americans were always "on the back foot," as Ian Darke likes to say, against the French. Second best in effort and ideas. Reduced by bad passes in the mid-field to booting it forward and hoping for the best. Unable, even, to take advantage of a huge potential break when the referee gifted them a penalty for a foul that both wasn't a foul and wasn't in the penalty box, only for Abby Wambach to hit a weak penalty kick that was easily saved. The midfield chased the game, with Lauren Holiday practically invisible unless she was passing to the team in the blue shirts (and, in case you didn't watch, the U.S. wore white).

I understand, and often state, that too much shouldn't be read into friendly matches. But this was one that the U.S. was apparently pointing to. Yes, Ellis wants to review her options in game situations for the World Cup. And it was encouraging to see Alex Morgan put in a full 90 minutes in her return from injury.

Morgan's presence (although not necessarily her play) was one
of the few bright spots against France. (photo from ussoccer.com)

But the lack of ideas and skill and just plain work (excepting the always solid Carli Lloyd and Tobin Heath) transcend the issue of whether this was "just a friendly." Foudy made the comment shortly after Wambach entered the game that you could sense a lift in the other U.S. players' emotions when she was on the field. But neither they, nor Ellis, should have to rely on a simple tactical change to inject energy or ingenuity into the game. And, even if it works, you can only go to that particular well so many times before it becomes routine and by definition unremarkable.

The U.S. plays England in that next friendly on Friday. After that comes the Algarve Cup, the tournament that was presumably Sermanni's undoing when the U.S. finished seventh out of eight teams a year ago. We'd better hope that Ellis has figured some things out between now and then. Because, much like Solo, I doubt that there's a "Plan B" when it comes to who will coach our national team at the World Cup in June.

Two Not So Fitting Farewells - Part One

You could take two recent decisions involving the U.S. Men's and Women's national teams as good signs. As indications that we are big time now, that we make heartless decisions based on what we think is best for our programs, nothing more and nothing less.

Or you could see it as the passing of an era, from a time when our national soccer teams, perhaps to a fault, recognized past service or gave longer leash to a coach because it was the right thing, even if it wasn't necessarily in the best interests of the team (Briana Scurry starting in the 2007 World Cup semifinals instead of Hope Solo comes to mind, but perhaps then-coach Greg Ryan would disagree, since the fallout from that determination cost him his job).

The first decision involved the "shocking" dismissal last month of Women's head coach Tom Sermanni. Unlike Pia Sundhage's last game, there was no celebration after Sermanni's last match as coach, in which the U.S. beat China 3-0. In fact, other than Sunil Gulati and perhaps handful of others, no one knew that it was Sermanni's last match.

That victory came on the heels of a disappointing performance by the squad in the Algrave Cup, an annual women's tournament held in Portugal. The U.S. drew with eventual runners-up Japan in their first group match before losing to Sweden 1-0 and to Denmark by a shocking 5-3 score. Sweden is now coached by Sundhage, adding insult to the injury of a seventh place finish.

Sermanni coaching during the match vs. Japan at the Algrave
Cup. The team's performance at the tournament was at least a
part of his undoing. (photo from soccerblog.dallasnews.com)

While the team's performance in Portugal was admittedly underwhelming, it did not seem to be sufficient justification for a change. The termination came as a shock to Sermanni who is universally beloved by his players and seemingly deserved better, or, at the least, some notice that a change was being considered.

In the aftermath of the firing, pundits offered varying theories on the reasons for and the timing of Sermanni's departure. With CONCACAF Wold Cup qualifying set to take place in October for the 2015 Women's World Cup to be held in Canada, time is short for another coach to impose his or her vision on the team.

Gulati denied that a player revolt provoked Sermanni's dismissal, but it's hard to believe that the veterans of the squad were happy with Sermanni's habit of thrusting players new to the national team into starting spots (and, in particular, leaving Abby Wambach on the bench for the entire match against Japan and for all but five minutes against Denmark). Gulati did admit in his press conference that he gained information from "people in and around the team" that played a role in the decision, along with an assessment of "where the team's going and heading," and the performance in Portugal.

It's inconceivable that the decision was made with anything other than the best of intentions - clearly, Gulati and others in the U.S. Soccer brain trust thought the team was headed in the wrong direction (or, more likely, in no particular direction). With a qualification tournament upcoming that was nearly the team's undoing four years ago (remember the loss to Mexico? the play-off matches against Italy?) surely part of what played into Sermanni's firing was that if a change had to be made, it had to be made soon.

So, Sermanni wasn't the answer. Fair enough. But who is? The anticipation was that a new coach would be named by early May, but it's nearly the middle of the month and still no new coach. The list of candidates, frankly, isn't that inspiring (although Sundhage's former assistant, Tony Gustavsson, is an intriguing option). And time is growing short.

One thing is certain: if we are in a new, cold world of soccer with our women's national team, the choice this time had better be the right one. Or heads other than just the next coach's ought to roll.

Looking Back

I've been stuck in a rut with writing my next post for over a month now. 

I started one about Ryan Braun's half-hearted explanation/apology and how it reflected what a bully he is, particularly with regard to the sample collector, Dino Laurenzi, Jr., about whom and his suspected biases he went on at great length in his "I'm innocent" press conference in 2012, but who only merited the following in his admission of guilt: "I sincerely apologize to everybody involved in the arbitration process, including the collector, Dino Laurenzi, Jr." when Braun finally fessed up and admitted to cheating this summer.

But I have grown bored with Braun and his ego-centric behavior, and, frankly, bored with my loathing of him.

I began another post about my prediction at the start of the year that this was a seminal year for the status of soccer in the U.S., from the Men's National Team, which was largely in turmoil and not playing particularly well at the time, to the Women's National Team which was trying to adjust to Life With(out) Pia, to the new women's league and where each was at now. But work and vacation got in the way, and I decided to wait until after the U.S. v. Mexico matches (the women this week, the men next week) to proclaim my current judgment on those issues. (But here's a teaser - Sydney Leroux is good.)

The third one that I started and never finished is the one I regret the most not completing. It celebrated the achievements of two friends, one a coach, the other a golfer. The coach achieved this June what he had long deserved - the right to call himself a State Championship coach. I considered him one of my closest coaching colleagues at Charleston Catholic, and I intended to recognize his achievement, not just in winning a championship (finally), but in always doing things the right way as well as his success in mentoring several generations of athletes, which far outweighs anything he or they will ever accomplish on the field.

Catholic players celebrate their state championship
(photo from WVMetroNews).

The other friend is a far better golfer than me, but had never had a hole-in-one (although he did have a double eagle - an "albatross" - which is a far more difficult and rare achievement) before making his first ace late this year. I would have held him up as use an example of how good things come to those who wait.

But that post, too, went unpublished as it seemed that timeliness was important and ultimately unachievable.

Then today I had an epiphany of sorts as I listened to an NPR interview with Trent Reznor and realized that I am closing in on the 100th post of this blog that began with a whimper more than three years ago.

Reznor spoke in the interview of the changes in his perspective and his music; from the angry but "meticulous" noise of Nine Inch Nails to that of his new album which is much more melodic and at times downright mainstream. He also talked about writing about what he's feeling, what he believes in, and how he wants his music to sound at any particular time. And about trying not to care about what his fans (or former fans) may think.

I appreciate what Reznor is saying. When I first decided to write a blog, I admit it was largely self-promotion (or "business development" as lawyers like to say). I did, though, have enough self-awareness to realize that if I started another employment or internet law blog I'd soon lose interest and hate the idea, the writing, and the idea of writing.

Where I differ with Reznor is that I do care about whether anyone reads my posts and what they think about them. Unlike Reznor, I'm hardly a recognized member of this particular community. And just as importantly because it would be pure narcissism to write and not care whether my readers enjoy, or at least give thought to, what I write.

So, no retrospective as we near another landmark (the two I did near the first and second anniversaries of this blog are among the least read of all my posts -- I'm a little slow but I come around eventually). But an acknowledgement that I've found topics that have kept my interest for almost 100 times now and the hope that occasionally they've done the same for you.

Now if you'll excuse my I've got a black t-shirt to put on and some NIN to listen to ...

Learning to Live with It

If you follow women's soccer, or the tabloids, you've probably heard about Hope Solo's drunken bachelorette/bachelor party/melee, followed by her appearance at a hearing on domestic battery charges that she brought against her fiancee (now husband), a former NFL player with an impressive history of run-ins with the law including DUI, possession with intent to distribute, and, most disturbingly, sexual assault.

Various folks have weighed in on what should or should not be off limits with regard to Solo and what appear to be some questionable life choices (not that that should be particularly shocking given her public declarations in the past). But my take is a little different. It's about the choices that coaches and teams are sometimes forced to make.

Coaches are fond of saying that they have one set of rules that applies to all players. But they know, and the players know, that that's not always the case.

At any level, coaches have to make adjustments and even exceptions for exceptional players. And they have to depend on the players to understand that it's for the good of the team that they do so, even if  the players that exceptions are made for aren't "team players."

After watching the U.S. Women's team in the Olympics, reading Solo's controversial comments regarding Brandi Chastain's commentary and the lack of public support that she received for those comments from her teammates and coaches, and then watch the last two friendlies that the team played against the Republic of Ireland, I wonder how much tongue biting and eye rolling goes on inside the team when Solo opens her mouth. Because two things are clear: first, Solo, true to her name, is not a team player; and, second, the team really, really needs her.

Um, that look pretty much says it all.

Admittedly, it may not be fair to evaluate based on two halves of two friendlies, but Solo's backup, Nicole Barnhart, looked very shaky in her two appearances. While her decision-making would undoubtedly benefit from more game time, she looked indecisive on crosses and balls in the box.

Keepers are like left-handed pitchers in baseball -- they're often viewed as the odd-balls, marching to the beat of a different drummer (no doubt in part because they are the only players allowed to use their hands). But that doesn't mean they can't or don't have to be good teammates.

It will be interesting to see how the new head coach of the National Team, Tom Sermanni, deals with Solo. Perhaps, like Pia Sundhage before him, he will decide that regardless of the distractions, it's best for the team that he tolerate them as best as he and the team can. But we should also probably hope (pun intended) that somewhere in the program a replacement is being groomed.

A Fitting Farewell

Pia Sundhage's final match as the U.S. Women's soccer coach had all the right elements to encapsulate her nearly five years in charge. An early deficit, some dodgy defending, lots of goals, and in the end, a victory as the Americans beat Australia 6-2.

It's easy to forget that when Sundhage took over the team it was in complete disarray. The women had finished third in the World Cup in 2007, a result with which most countries (Canada comes to mind) would be ecstatic, but which was disappointing for the Americans in part because it constituted the second straight World Cup that they had failed to win, but mostly because of the way it had happened.

Then-coach Greg Ryan benched keeper Hope Solo in favor of long-time starter Brianna Scurry for the semi-final match against Brazil, which the U.S. promptly and embarrassingly lost 4-0. After the game, Solo publicly blasted Ryan for the decision (where have we heard that since?), splitting the team into two camps.

Alex Morgan, one of the fast, skilled young players
that Sundhage included in the U.S. Women's National team.

While the team regrouped to defeat Norway in the consolation game, the damage had been done. Ryan was dismissed and U.S. Soccer President Sunil Gulati eventually named Sundhage, the first non-American to hold the job, in his place.

Nine months later, the U.S. Women won the Gold Medal at the Beijing Olympics. Sundhage found a winning formula, based primarily on Abby Wambach and Solo, and stuck with it.

While the play wasn't always pretty, and there were some rough stretches (particularly during World Cup qualifying, when the U.S. lost to Mexico and had to defeat Italy in home-and-home matches to squeak into the Finals) the team began to play exciting, attractive soccer. Sure, there were more bumps along the way - especially the World Cup Final against Japan when the Americans twice surrendered leads and their slow defenders (yes, Hope, slow defenders) were exposed.

But two matches in particular, the World Cup quarterfinal against Brazil in 2011 and the Olympic semifinal against Canada this summer, were two of the most compelling soccer matches, men's or women's, I've ever watched. And Sundhage should also be credited for bringing youth into the team, Megan Rapinoe, Alex Morgan, and Sydney Leroux being the best examples of quality players who blossomed under Sundhage's leadership.

Perhaps most importantly, Sundhage clearly enjoys coaching and imparts that joy to her players. Undoubtedly she worked them hard. But she has a whimsical side that occasionally causes her to dance or break into song.

Whoever replaces Sundhage will have big shoes to fill, and will inherit a team with high expectations for the next World Cup, to be held in Canada in 2015. He or she may well bring the Cup back across the border. But I doubt that whoever it is will do so with as much panache as Sundhage brought to our team.

Pouring It On

The United States women's national soccer team qualified for the Olympics this past week at the CONCACAF tournament held in Vancouver, beating Canada 4-0 in the Final. The women also avenged their loss to Mexico in World Cup qualifying a year ago, beating them 4-0 in the group stage.

All told, the U.S. outscored their opponents 38-0 in the five game, ten day tournament. Those gaudy statistics were aided by a 14-0 thrashing of the Dominican Republic in the first game of group play and a 13-0 stomping of Guatemala in the second. 

Those two wins had some people grumbling that the Americans' coach, Pia Sundhage, had lost her sense of sportsmanship. Adding fuel to the fire was the fact that substitute Amy Rodriguez scored five second half goals against the Dominicans and Sydney Leroux the same number (also in the second half as a substitute) against Guatemala.

Sydney Leroux, celebrating after a goal
against North Korea in the U-20 World Cup.

It's easy for someone who isn't a coach in general, or the coach of a national team in particular, to make a judgment call about what is or isn't sporting. But, having been in Sundhage's position a few times myself, I am convinced that there are no simple answers to the question of when, or whether, to call off the dogs.

In my third season as a head coach my high school team beat a school, which happened to be our biggest rival in all sports, 13-0. We didn't start the game intending to inflict that type of humiliation, but things got out of control on the pitch and before I knew it, it was too late to try to save the dignity of the opposing team. I apologized after the match to the opposing coach, who I like very much. He graciously deflected my genuine remorse with a simple "it's our job to stop you and we couldn't" but if anything that just made me feel worse.

After that, my team never scored more than nine goals in a game against any team, no matter how badly out-matched they were. As we strengthened our schedule those breathers got fewer and farther between, but there were always a few matches each year where it was more work to not embarrass the other team than it was to win. I would devise various games within a game to try to keep the score down - after six or seven goals we could only shoot outside the 18, or shoot after five consecutive passes, score on a header, or only a player who had not scored that season, or had never scored, could shoot.

And the players played by the rules or else. I remember at least one game when one of our stars (and one of the fiercest competitors that I ever coached) shot and scored during a blow-out when the rule in effect did not allow it. The goal made the score 9-0 and I immediately yanked her out of the match. She came to the touch-line with a "what did I do wrong?" look on her face, but she knew. And every other player on our team knew too.

My job of trying to keep the score down, though, was easier than Sundhage's. Most importantly, I had the ability to freely substitute players and did so. Sundhage, on the other hand, was limited to three substitutions per match in the tournament. And, let's face it, her bench is a wee bit more talented than mine was.

Another factor that was to my advantage was that when the score got to nine, we would simply pass the ball around. No shooting, no scoring. It was always a concern that it would look like we were toying with the other team. And, to some extent, we were. But we were playing on a field in West Virginia with 50 or so people in the stands most times. The memories of those who played or watched have faded with regard to how the score was reached, but the score itself has not.

To play "keep away" in front of 20,000 fans and television audience, however, is a very different proposition. Was it more humiliating for the Dominicans and Guatemalans to lose by two touchdowns (one with a missed extra point) or to lose 9-0 and have to chase the U.S. players for the last 20 minutes of the match, everyone knowing that they were not up to the task? Would that have been a more sporting way for the U.S. to play rather than continuing to try to score?

I'm not sure I know the answer, or that there is one. But I do know that anyone who says they are absolutely sure what the answer is has, very likely, never had to make that decision themselves.

C'mon In Girls, the Water's Fine

Yeah, yeah, you've read this before. Or something close to it anyway.

The difference is fans of women's soccer in the United States don't need an introduction to the sport or to World Cup thrills.

But just as a year ago Landon Donovan and the U.S. men gave us 90 minutes of tension and then jubilation, so too Abby Wambach and the U.S. women (and a less-than-helpful Australian referee) gave us 122 minutes of nail-biting thrills against Brazil in the Women's World Cup yesterday and then tacked on a penalty shootout for good measure.

Megan Rapinoe and Abby Wambach celebrate Wambach's goal
(and Rapinoe's cross that set it up) at the death against Brazil.

Yesterday's match was the re-invigoration of soccer in our country that we so needed. Instead of its earliest ever exit from the World Cup, Wambach and her resilient, never-say-die teammates gave us a match for the ages and a lesson that makes us all feel a little bit better about the sport in our country. And maybe ourselves.

There's still a long way to go, no doubt about that. The Americans have to beat the surprising French in the semifinal and, if they get past Les Blues, either a team that has already bested them in this tournament (Pia Sundhage's native Sweden), or a Japan team that knocked out the favorites Germany in the quarterfinals.

While you have to like their chances, regardless of what happens in the semifinals and final, this game will likely be remembered as the match of the 2011 Women's World Cup, or perhaps any women's World Cup. Just as Donovan's goal, while ultimately not leading to a World Cup (or even a spot in the quarterfinals), was an example of grit and determination, so to the women's victory demonstrated guts, and heart, and most of all belief in the value of team.

Wambach's perfect header.

At the very least, the women made a believer out of their coach. "I come from Sweden," said Sundhage after the match, "and this American attitude, pulling everything together and bringing out the best performance in each other, that is contagious. I am very, very proud, and I'm very, very happy to be the coach of the U.S. team."  

The U.S. women faced a daunting task when the match began against a squad with the five-time defending world player of the year in Marta and several other teammates with, honestly, more flair than that possessed by any American player. An early own goal by Brazil seemed at the time a gift (the only one the Yanks received all evening), but may have caused them to play more tentatively as a result.

It would be easy to dwell on the negatives of the next two hours of soccer that followed that first goal.  Horrible refereeing decision upon bad. Cynical play and play-acting by the Brazilians. Even, surprisingly, at times clueless commentary by the usually fine Ian Darke and Julie Fouty (90 plus 15 plus 15 equals 120, not 115 y'all). More globally, whether it's good that the women's game appears to be evolving into the same bad-tempered, cynical affair that marks the men's game. Or whether our apparent malaise regarding women's soccer is indicative of a misogynistic turn that my favorite soccer blogger, Fake Sigi, thinks our nation has taken in the last 12 years.

But we'll leave all that for another day (if ever). Now is the time to just revel. In the accomplishments of a team of resolute women who ignored at best horrible misfortune and at worst a stacking of the deck against them. In a team that stuck to the task at hand and believed, when all seemed lost, that they would persevere.

Or, as Wambach said after the match: "I think that is a perfect example of what this country is about. What the history of this team has always been. We never give up. We literally went to the last second it seems."

The reference in the title to this post is to the Donovan goal a year ago, and to Delmar's invitation to join the nation of believers in O Brother Where Art Thou? But perhaps a better observation from Delmar for yesterday's game, and our reaction to it, comes after Delmar thinks that he has discovered that his fellow escapee Pete in an altered state. "Them syreens did this to Pete." says Delmar. "They loved him up and turned him into a toad."

What's the state of U.S. soccer? For at least one day, it's about as good as it can get, thanks to the sirens of our national team. Color us grey and cover us with warts for all we care.

Can You Demand Support?

The recent National Team matches between the U.S. Men's soccer team and Mexico and the Women's team and Sweden have had me pondering the nature of support of national teams.

Ask anyone who is a fan raised in a football culture and they will tell you club comes before country. In America, however, it's a little different. Unless you're 15 years old or younger, you were born at a time when there was no major professional league in the country. So for my generation, and the one that preceded me, the national team was the team of first allegiance. Maybe that's why I have trouble understanding Americans who root for other countries against "their" nation in any competition.

My Grandfather emigrated from Sweden in his early adulthood and I am extremely proud of my Scandinavian heritage, as well as his accomplishments and assimilation into American life. But I would never think of rooting for Sweden to beat the U.S. Sweden is what I claim as my nation of origin, my heritage. The United States is my country.

The Swedish national team badge.

So while the Swedes made the American women look very ordinary in their World Cup match Wednesday, I felt no elation. Frustration, yes. But the team I was rooting for wore white and the badge of U.S. soccer and they were and are my team.


As noted in my previous post, that is not the case with Hispanic fans who root on Mexico against their adopted homeland, America. While I am far from those who insist on making English the official language of the United States, and have established a track record of non-jingoism, I am troubled by the fact that the American men are the "away" team when they play Mexico almost anywhere within the contiguous 48 states.

The rationalization of one Mexican national team supporter at the Gold Cup final was this: "I love this country, it has given me everything that I have, and I'm proud to be part of it," said Victor Sanchez, a 37-year-old Monrovia resident wearing a Mexico jersey. "But yet, I didn't have a choice to come here, I was born in Mexico, and that is where my heart will always be."

I'm sorry Victor, but, unless you were forced across the border at gun point, yes, in fact, you did have a choice. You chose to come to the land of opportunity over your native land, much as my Grandfather did. And now you turn your back on it.

There are several solutions to this situation. The most obvious is to cultivate a large enough following of the U.S. national team that supporters that they will purchase tickets instead of the Mexican fans. 

The second is to hold to matches in areas that are not traditional "strongholds" of Mexican national team support (i.e., Los Angeles). The most memorable soccer match I have ever attended was in Columbus, Ohio. In February. 


U.S. Soccer finally decided to turn the tables on our neighbors to the South, who generally make us play in the smog-filled thin air of Mexico City for our national team matches against them, and set our first qualifying match for the 2002 World Cup in Columbus. Mother Nature, with a wink and a nod, complied with the plan and served up weather that was 29F at kick-off, with the wind chill in the teens.



The Mexican team never had a chance, emerging shivering from its locker room only minutes before kick-off only to find the Americans already on the field, most memorably for me Tony Sanneh in shirt sleeves. Even with Brian McBride, local Columbus Crew hero and the Americans' top striker, forced out early with a golf ball sized knot on his face, the Yanks dominated and won 2-0.


The third solution is the one that the democrat (little "d") in me whispers in my ear while I curse the pro-Mexican crowds is to make those fans feel a little more American. Maybe, it says, it was easier for your Grandpa and his son and his son's son because they had fair hair and blue eyes. Maybe, if we spent a little less time building walls (real and metaphorical) to keep immigrants out they would feel a little more American.


Pia Sundhage, the U.S. women's national team coach, is Swedish. I seriously doubt that anyone will accuse her of throwing the game against Sweden (although why Megan Rapinoe played for 72 minutes is completely beyond me). Would the same be true if Bob Bradley was of Mexican heritage?


Regardless of why, or what the short-term solution may be, the bottom line is that you can't dictate allegiance. It has to be earned. So, at least for the short run, Victor and his many companions will continue to support their country of origin over their country of opportunity. And I (and Tim Howard) will just have to learn to deal with it. After all Tim, that match in Columbus? It's forever known in Mexico as La Guerra Fria ("The Cold War"). Sounds way cooler in Spanish.