We’ll get to the cynical part in a second.
Let’s start here:
HOLY MACKEREL! HOLY COW!
HOOOO-LEEEE @%#$#@&!!!
Because across every second of this splendid soccer match, the U.S. against Portugal, there were more highs, more lows, more thrills, more spills, more remarkable things happening than a novice set of eyes could possibly keep up with … yet even those novice eyes could detect something special.
“Football,” the terrific American goalkeeper, Tim Howard, would later say, “is cruel sometimes.”
But it can also be exceptional, and when it is played at the level of U.S.-Portugal, it can actually penetrate the barriers the non-believers erect around their hearts. Because it was difficult — damn near impossible — not to get captured by this match. Sport is sport and heart is heart and talent is talent, and it translates wordlessly.
And so do the visceral aspects of watching a game like this one, watching the Americans fall behind early on a giveaway, score twice to take a 2-1 lead, seconds away from clinching a berth in the knockout Round of 16 (and thereby becoming the first team from the so-called “Group of Death,” Group G, to advance) …
And then, Ronaldo.
Actually, sadly, it was a bit more than that. American midfielder Michael Bradley turned the ball over while the U.S. was trying to bleed the final few seconds of extra time like Carolina executing the old four corners. But Bradley couldn’t keep the ball, and suddenly it was on the foot of the great Portuguese star, streaking down the right side.
An aside here: Even its most ardent purists concede that soccer isn’t as obvious to appreciate as some sports. Rare are the big basketball games, for instance, on which LeBron James or Kobe Bryant won’t have a profound impact. Same deal with a big quarterback in American football.
Soccer? You can have a great game and never once have your name called. The believers know. The observers? Not so much. For Cristiano Ronaldo, it was different: You heard his name plenty Sunday, most of the time derisively.
There was one failed breakaway attempt that was, one soccer-loving friend explained, “Shaq missing a dunk.” There were plenty of offsides calls, and it seemed that even Ronaldo’s own teammates had grown weary of his half-hearted play.
And then …
Let’s backtrack 24 hours. Saturday, Argentina struggling in a scoreless match that, somehow, had temporarily turned Iran into the Dillon High Panthers. That duel went into extra time, too. And then … Lionel Messi, in an eyeblink, found the back of the net and Argentina won the game, 1-0.
Messi’s is a name that even the soccer illiterate know. So is Ronaldo’s. Now here was Ronaldo, seconds before the Americans would begin the greatest soccer celebration in the nation’s history, curling the ball across the field, in front of the American net … and perfectly onto the head of his teammate, Varela.
Now, as an American, your first reaction — and what may well be your lasting reaction Monday morning — was the same as a two-out, two-strike, walk-off grand slam would be. Or a half-court, buzzer-beating, game-winning 3-pointer. And it should be. It tells you how much these matches have come to matter.
But there are two things that should lessen the sting. The first? What we want when the world’s greatest athletes gather is for the best of the best to prove precisely why they are what they are. Within 24 hours Messi and Ronaldo gave the world that, both in the nick of time. That’s good for the game.
And now for that cynical thing — which, as it happens, is also a good thing for the U.S.: The Americans play Germany on Thursday, and both teams advance with a tie. And here’s the thing: If these are the rules that govern the World Cup, why wouldn’t those teams fiddle around for 90 minutes and secure their spots in the knockout round? Isn’t that the point?
Well, Jurgen Klinsmann, the U.S. coach who has crafted something extraordinary with this team, quickly insisted Sunday that no deal would be offered, and none accepted. And there is precedent: In 1982, Austria afforded West Germany a quick 1-0 lead in their final group match that allowed both nations to advance (and foiled feisty upstart Algeria’s hopes), and the echoing anger can still be heard in some soccer precincts. So we can remember that when we watch the inevitable 0-0 draw.
But we’ll also remember this:
“These finishes,” Klinsmann said, “are what the World Cup is all about.”
The world has been trying to tell us this for years. Maybe we’re finally willing to listen.