Soccer Log: June 22 2006

USA VS Ghana June 22 2006

Sometimes as a fan you begin to think that no one else understands. Sitting in a poor excuse for an airport bar I realized that no one else understood me or the US National Team. Even as the minutes wound down and it become clear the US would not win, something inside of me wanted to scream. I wanted to scream at the only mildly disappointed faces around me, at the off hand comments about the US loosing, the very tone that seemed to say 'of course' or 'it was inevitable'.

I wanted them to know they were wrong, the US was brilliant, they were going to win the cup and shock the world. There had just been some mistake.

I walked out of the bar and away from the TV before the final whistle. I think something inside of me still thought a miracle would save us. Maybe if I wasn't watching God would give us a hand, or maybe it just wasn't happening at all. At some point you begin to wander if it was all just a dream and sooner or later you are bound to wake up so you can go see the real game. Of course I haven't woken up yet. I'm still hopeful, but I have a nagging feeling its just not going to happen.

Its hard to accept reality is not what you knew it was. The US did not win the World Cup. Kesey Keller was not the stone wall I knew he was. Donovan, Beasely, they had all betrayed me and had a good laugh about it. Somewhere inside of me I know they must have taken this harder than anyone else, but in the aftermath of disaster its hard to feel sorry for anyone but yourself.

And so I began my day proudly wearing my new US away jersey only to feel embarrassed by lunch. I woke up knowing victory was at hand and that by wearing my jersey I would be bathed in a prideful radiance all day. However, as I walked out of the bar in shock I realized I was now covered in the filth of shame (and air travel). My jersey was not a glorious badge of pride, but a dirty reminder of the reality that was melting away.

Its hard for any fan to stay in that mood forever though. Before I finished my flying the jersey had again become a source of pride. The doom that befalls all of us lifts after a while, sometimes remarkably quick as we again begin to believe the hype and something inside of us begins to remind us how brilliant the team really is. The immaculate runs of Dempsey, the leadership of Reyna and the courage of McBride. We construct our own beautiful realities. The jersey became a badge of honor, proclaiming that I was a real fan, no matter the struggles or harsh results, that I had faith the team would win and even elimination could not stop our World Cup triumph.