I’ve been a soccer fan and player all my life. I grew up in the far outer suburbs of Chicago, and I played in my first game sometime during the middle 1970’s. Soccer hadn’t really caught on in the rest of the country, but Chicago was one of those places where the many ethnicities had brought the game to the States. And it thrived in our little pocket of the US. I didn’t realize that it wasn’t “big” in the rest of the country. Sure, I knew that baseball, football, basketball, and to some extent hockey were popular, but I didn’t know that soccer wasn’t.

I went to my first professional game as a spectator about 1977, and I saw the Chicago Sting play the New York Cosmos. I watched Pelé and Franz Beckenbauer play in an awesome game. I don’t remember many specifics about the game, but I do know that I took a lot of heat for rambling on and on about the amazing skills of players from the Cosmos, especially those two giants of soccer. I got an NASL (North American Soccer League) ball at that game, and several of the Sting players autographed it. I had the ball until two years ago when it finally was sent to the trash, battered beyond recognition from years of play.

We didn’t have very many youth leagues in the “super boonies” of Chicago, so I played a lot of pickup games of soccer in my small town. I was ok with my feet, but my real desire was to be a goalie. I remember my Mom continually asking me why I would choose to be a target, when I could be kicking the ball at someone. I just couldn’t explain it, so I simply quit trying. I do know that she was happy that I wasn’t playing football (both were played in the Fall in Illinois High School sports), so I guess it was an acceptable compromise.

I attended a moderately small, Catholic college-prep high school in far outer Chicago suburbs. Due to our size and lack of interest, we didn’t have a soccer team my first two years of high school. But several of us worked hard to organize a club. My Junior year we managed to scrape together enough interest and funds to have a very rudimentary club team with a handful of games. We didn’t get our act together early enough in the season, so we basically played in several scrimmages and called it a season. But my Senior year we managed to coordinate better and fielded not only a fully club team, but had a full schedule. Midway through the season I broke my ankle in a freak collision with an oncoming forward, and my soccer days were over. In fact, the orthopedic surgeon that I saw told me that I probably would walk with a limp for the rest of my life, and my days as a Track & Field jumper (long jump, triple jump, and high jump) were over. Fortunately, I proved him wrong and competed four months later, but that’s fodder for another story. This one is about soccer…

Through the years, I played on a college dorm-based club team, and in a couple of recreational leagues (both indoors and out). When we moved to Texas I had a couple of stints coaching younger kids. Then we moved to Kansas in 1990 and discovered that soccer was just beginning in this area. When the director of the local league learned that I had not only coached, but that I’d played, I was considered prime instructional-coach material. I was paired with two wanna-be coaches who desired to learn about the game. By the end of the third season, I was coaching five teams, and had ten assistants working with me (none of whom had ever played soccer, and only one of whom had ever coached anything). As my kids came up through the ranks I was running from game to game, coaching my own kids, working with other coaches and teams, and generally spreading the gospel of soccer to a lot of folks.

I avidly watched Barclay’s Premier League games from the UK whenever I could catch them, and specifically got satellite TV so that I could watch them. I continued to play a little bit, and watched more games that I can count both with my kids playing and with them sitting beside me, discussing strategy, tactics, and playing.

Despite all the soccer games that I’ve watched, I never had the opportunity to see the US Men’s National Team in live action. I’d seen the Women play a couple of times, I’d seen many indoor, and a handful of outdoor professional games, but the USMNT hadn’t made it onto my docket. Then one of my daughters seized the opportunity to get tickets to a World Cup Qualifier match in Denver. As a student at the University of Colorado – Boulder, she wasn’t too far from the venue, and since it was during her and her twin’s Spring Break it seemed like the ideal opportunity to share our love of soccer from the stands. Little did we know that March 22, 2013 would serve host to a blizzard of record proportions.  This video gives you some idea of what the conditions were like. The funny thing is, while I remember that it was snowing like crazy, that we had some difficulty coordinating our entry into the park, and that it was moderately cold…my clearer memories are of watching a world class soccer game with two of my kids. Sure, we had snow piling up on our heads (accumulating up to 8 inches high in these crazy looking inverted snow cones), but we were watching the beautiful game together. The US scored early on, and held onto a single goal lead through the rest of the game. When play was at one end of the field, the field attendants would run out with snow shovels and clear the lines. It was utter craziness, and the Costa Rican team, fans, and federation weren’t very happy about the conditions, nor the outcome. But I’d seen the USMNT, and I had forged a personal bond with this team.

Fast forward to June 22, 2014 exactly fifteen months later. The USMNT was playing Portugal. In a seesaw game the US had carved out a 2-1 lead with only extra-time remaining. As the seconds ticked off, I kept looking at the clock. With 1:34 left all I could think was “don’t have a defensive breakdown”. Despite his amazing foot skills, Cristiano Ronaldo…arguably one of the best players in the world…had been completely ineffective the entire game. He’d hurt his team with offsides, theatrical displays (nothing new for him), and generally lackluster play the entire evening. But with just seconds remaining, he sent a perfectly placed crossing ball to Varela Silvestre who dove headfirst to the ball and beat his defender and Tim Howard the US goal keeper. The game ended mere seconds later. Rather than the win we were all getting ready to celebrate, we had to accept a tie. This complicated the road ahead for the US team. The win would have guaranteed a spot in the round of 16, but now the team would have to play a tough German squad and either tie or win to advance.

I’ve been around a lot of soccer. I’ve watched games where there were blowouts. I’ve watched nil-nil ties. I’ve seen lots of goals scored, and I’ve seen defensive battles for the ages. I’m a true soccer fan, and I believe that ties are a normal result, not some aberration. They are part of the culture of soccer, and I’m OK with them. I hated to see this game end in a tie, but it was just one of those examples where you have to compete at 100% until the final whistle. Portugal did that.

That single pass by Ronaldo, seemed to define the USMNT. And it didn’t define them in a positive light. I’ve been bantering back and forth with a few people about the game (which will be played tomorrow), and the mood is hopeful, but lacks a certain degree of confidence. While the USMNT has played extraordinarily well for most of every game, there have been moments where the other teams have taken advantage. There have been gaffes that the team has been forced to overcome. This has led a lot of people to withhold their judgment about what will happen tomorrow.

I’ve jokingly told people that I banished all sauerkraut, bratwurst, hamburgers, frankfurters, and German Potato Salad from my house. We’ll eat American food until the game is over. When we win, and I believe that we will win, I will make a full blown German dinner. While it’s not quite eating the heart of your vanquished enemy, it will be our symbolic gesture along those lines.

But I’ll admit, my confidence was a bit shaky. Then I saw this video and everything changed. Ted Harrison has created a 2:40 video that encapsulates all the joys and the heartbreak of the last game. He captures the emotions that I have so often felt about soccer…the highs and lows, and everything in between. Many Americans don’t get soccer. It’s a weird culture, and a sport that doesn’t resonate with a lot of people I know. Some of the biggest sports fans I know have zero interest in soccer. None. Zilch. Nada. But I shared this video with a couple of them, and however reluctantly, they agreed that this was cool.

This video shows that it’s not just a game. It’s a cultural and sporting event that transcends the battle on the field. It’s encapsulates what it means to be part of something, something larger than yourself. It’s nationalism in a nutshell. Not the goose-stepping kind of nationalism, but a pride in being an American. Being for something rather than against something. Sure, the German national team is our opponent, but this video isn’t about them. It’s about us. All of us. Americans, standing side-by-side. Putting our differences in the cupboard and celebrating what it means to be part of this motley nation.

Even if you’re not a soccer fan, and you think I’m nuts, do me one little favor. Watch Ted’s video One Moment Does not Define Us. Then put on your Red, White, and Blue and scream at the top of your lungs as the US Men’s National Team takes on the Germans tomorrow. If you’re reading this after the game, don’t worry, I won’t spoil it for you. I’m not going to update this post, no matter how much I’m tempted. Those thoughts will be elsewhere.

For right now, just watch the video and then let your pride take over. Some days it’s good to be an American. Heck, every day it’s good to be an American. Thanks Ted Harrison for reminding me of that!