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| Thursday, June 27, 2002 18:10 EST |
A Cupful of memories
By Marc Connolly
[ESPN.com]
Taking the bus down Central Park West on Monday, I was encountered by the usual sights: tourists hoping they'd come across a "Sex and the City" film shoot, millionaire moms running with jogging strollers and an endless flow of cabs cutting each other off to pick up the next Armani suit.
A flash of red caught my eye to my left, and before the bus could storm through the next traffic light I turned to see a middle-aged man wearing a U.S. National Team jersey circa 1998 complete with the number eight and "Stewart" stitched on the back.
Bruce Arena showed a strong, steady hand coaching the United States. |
"How 'bout that?" I thought, knowing that no one else on the bus could likely give me the player's first name, even with a lifeline.
It reminded me how just a few days ago I'd watched Earnie Stewart play in his last World Cup game, and the indelible image of the 13-year National Team vet helping Landon Donovan off the ground, putting his arm around him and forcing the 20-year-old budding superstar to keep his chin up as if to say, "You have nothing to be ashamed about. The future is yours."
In looking back upon the incredible run made by Bruce Arena's squad, that is one of several moments that will always occupy space in my memory. In no particular order, here are a few of the others:
The bewildered look on Donovan's face after his cross to the box was magically deflected
past Portugal's goalkeeper for an own goal and a 2-0 lead. That stunned, yet glowing, expression really summed up the situation, as the rest of us were surely looking quite the same no matter where we were or who we were with.
The shots of Frankie Hejduk, too revved up to stand still, during the National Anthem, which was enough to make even the most tired fans back home sit a bit straighter on the couch and open their eyes to full capacity for the first time since the evil alarm clock roared in the middle of the night.
Cobi Jones holding the ball in the right corner, displaying veteran smarts in order to run the clock out against Portugal. If Italy had a Cobi Jones, it would have played against Spain in the quarterfinal rather than South Korea.
Listening to Brian McBride tell ESPN's Lisa Salters how he and Tony Sanneh were joking about how they scored many goals with the Milwaukee Rampage on the same cross and head ball strike that gave the U.S. a three-goal lead over the Portuguese. It made me think of all the guys who are now high school soccer coaches, insurance salesman and real estate brokers that filled with pride because they remember sharing the field with those two nearly a decade ago.
Speaking to Eric Wynalda shortly after the upset victory over Portugal, who told me how he and several of his former teammates on the National Team called each other on their cells like gossiping teenage girls and shared the moment once the U.S. jumped out to a lead. He mentioned how special it was for him to speak to his good friend and former teammate on the Chicago Fire, Chris Armas, while both of their sons, who were born on the same day last fall, sat on their respective laps. In the future, whenever that game is mentioned, both Chris and Eric will be able to say, "You don't remember, but you watched it with me." Gotta love that.
The world-class trap and finish by Clint Mathis against Korea, that was perfectly punctuated with the "That's why he's here!" call of Jack Edwards. You could practically feel all of the anger of not playing against Portugal, the relief of coming through in the clutch after endless pre-Cup hype and the immense joy for his team come out of him when he triumphantly ran to the Sam's Army section of Daegu Stadium with his arms spread wide and his hands giving the peace sign.
The awkward one-arm raised celebrations by Bruce Arena on the sidelines. For a non-emotional type like Arena, that was his version of Roberto Benigni's Oscar night celebration.
Catching a quick glimpse of a relieved Jeff Agoos patting Brad Friedel on the back after the U.S. goalkeeper bailed him out by saving the penalty kick in the South Korea match.
Noticing that David Regis, banished to the bench after starting eight of 10 qualifiers and most every friendly before, after or in between, was the first player to reach Donovan after his goal against Mexico to tackle him in celebration. That sort of scene would not have happened in 1998.
The look on John O'Brien's face after the loss to Poland when he found out that the U.S. would be advancing to the next round due to South Korea's win over Portugal. The cameraman caught him saying, "Hey, we'll take it." Exactly.
The picture-perfect Eddie Lewis cross from the left flank to Donovan for the second goal against Mexico made me think exactly what Edwards had said about Mathis: "That's why he's here."
Seeing Luis Hernandez check into the match for Mexico in the first half. There was something comforting about seeing the favored Mexicans turn to a has-been flunky who couldn't cut it in MLS.
The "Hand of John." Say what you want about the other gaffes, but this definite hand ball by O'Brien in front of the goal was the biggest non-call in the tournament.
Arena extending his hands in front of him in triumph at the end of the Mexico game. For a moment, that usual cat-ate-the-canary smirk or that intense glare of his was gone. All he could do was smile wide and hug the first player to rush off the field, who happened to be Tony Sanneh. How apropos. Here was a player Arena gave new life to at D.C. United by making him a right back and midfielder instead of a striker. It was this decision that ultimately got Sanneh a chance to make it in Germany and on the National Team. And it was his sticking by the 31-year-old during the spring that paid off in the end, as Sanneh played like a world-class defender and was one of the true MVP candidates on the U.S. side.
The Mexicans refusing to trade shirts. No matter what calls went against them or how physical the game was played -- when isn't it against the U.S.? -- you would have thought that not only the Mexican players would have traded shirts, but also would have pleaded with their CONCACAF "brothers" to whip some German butt and bring more respect to our much-maligned region. (Give credit to Cuauhtemoc Blanco, who was probably involved in more fouls than any player on the field, as he was the only player from Mexico to exchange jerseys.)
Getting an e-mail from Chris Baldwin, a solider at the U.S. Army base in Uzbekistan, who wrote the following: "Today we will be out of the 100-plus degree heat, away from the dust, packed in tight with former KGB officers and some ex-Soviet fighter pilots, our
handkerchiefs knotted in nervous anticipation of THE QUARTERFINAL MATCH! No beer, no chips, no air conditioning. Let's hope the 'war' can take a break while we're at it."
The killer nutmeg during Donovan's Owen-like run through the German defense before Oliver "King" Kahn came out of nowhere to block his wicked lefty drive in the first half.
The German goal. I'll admit, I wonder what would have happened had Kasey Keller been in goal on that free kick.
Claudio Reyna's side-winding volley from midfield off of Kahn's save at the top of the box. From the time it hit Reyna's cleat to when it finally landed just over the crossbar, the lofted shot at the open net seemed to take minutes rather than seconds. And it certainly took days or years off many of our lives.
Kahn dropping to the ground like a cement bag after the final whistle blew, spent from 93 straight minutes of severe concentration mixed in with the most athletic and acrobatic of moves to fend off the steady U.S. onslaught on his goal. When you play for a top-tier club like Bayern Munich and for a world power like Germany, you don't get tested like that too often.
The embrace between Reyna and nemesis Jens Jeremies.
Mathis talking with Kahn after the match. It was almost as if they were saying, "Maybe we'll be wearing the same shirt in a month or so" to each other since Mathis and Bayern Munich have been in talks for two months now.
The tear-inducing sight of Reyna walking around the stadium with Old Glory strung along his back as his cape while saluting the fans. He looked like a superhero. But then again, he already is to the English fans who call him "Captain America." On that night against the Germans, there was no one else on the planet you'd rather have in your midfield not only running the show, but representing everything you stood for as an upstart soccer-playing nation. I know that if I called up 10 random members of Sam's Army, seven or eight of them would likely have an image of Reyna with the flag as the wallpaper on their computers. Rightly so.
The look of confidence on Donovan's face and the sound of it in his voice throughout the tournament. He was the catalyst and truly believed the U.S. could win the whole damn thing.
The pride I felt listening to non-soccer fans talk about this team and their courage.
The amusement I felt listening to the detractors who knew nothing, but said everything.
The excitement of watching a team that entered the quarterfinals looking like Cinderella, yet despite the loss, left looking like Britney.
How it was secretly fun to watch soccer at the oddest possible hours, as though you were a part of some twisted cult that is loyal to the bone and won't let sleep or convenience get in the way of your greatest passion. (Oh wait, I am. And it's an unbelievable club to be a part of.)
And finally, wondering when in my lifetime the U.S. will ever get back to such a place in the World Cup. The more you know this game, the more you realize what an achievement it is just to qualify for the World Cup. More established soccer countries such as England, Holland, Portugal and Colombia have all missed out in recent years. Even if you qualify in stunning fashion, the draw can be crippling and make it a monumental challenge just to advance out of the group.
Gaining a berth to a quarterfinal is nothing to take for granted once you've been there. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if the U.S. didn't get this far over the next three or four World Cup, no matter how the sport takes off or what type of players are produced. It's that tough. Ask France and Argentina.
I just know that if my heart is still ticking when the U.S. advances once again to the quarterfinals, and perhaps to the Great Beyond of the semifinals and finals, I'll be watching it live -- no matter what time it's at -- and definitely writing about it. Even if it's for free.
Perhaps wearing a vintage Earnie Stewart jersey.
Marc Connolly is a senior writer at ABC Sports Online. He can be reached at marc.connolly@abc.com.
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