How Soccer finally gained its U.S. citizenship

First appeared on June 24, 2014
in The Lebanon Reporter

So the U.S. had Portugal on the ropes only to come up short. I say ‘short’ as a fan of the three big North American sports where to end in a tie remains a largely foreign concept (all apologies to the occasional NFL game and hockey, who will forever remain one rung above Disney on ice).
For those American’s still easing their way into the water, soccer can seem unnecessarily complicated. Red cards, yellow cards and a vaguely accurate extended period of play known as stoppage time all serve to muddy their understanding of the game.

Not to mention the fact the United States couldn’t dominate Portugal in the way the U.S. should dominate Portugal in absolutely everything known to man. Lowly Portugal, who’ve given what to the world in the last 200 years? The list is predictably short and is highlighted by cork production and the invention of the pre-paid mobile phone card. Certainly not on the same level as the car, airplane, computer or "Jersey Shore".

Still the World Cup finally appears to be making inroads in the United States. Part of this movement lies in the unique way the tournament brings so many together. It is the great unifier. Be it a local bar, gathering at ones house or public viewing party, when it comes to the World Cup at least, everyone finds themselves on the same team; save the stray exchange student or vociferous ex-pat snarking at those knuckle-dragging Americans only now waking to the allure of the draw.

For the longest time Americans couldn’t wrap their bulbous heads around the fact half the world is actually watching this thing, preferring instead to pretend half the world is far too busy marveling at the innovation and sophistication of Americans to ever have enough free time to watch sports on television.

Many Americans are beginning to see the World Cup for what it is however. The pageantry of the SuperBowl and nationalism of the Olympics combined with the kind of over-the-top acting generally reserved for a poorly directed production of community theatre. The real question begs however, as far as the U.S. sports consumer is concerned, has soccer finally arrived?

From the inception of the MLS down to the Indy Eleven, a burgeoning nationwide youth system and the fact the tiny 1A school I attended many moons ago, one where football has long been king, has finally formed a soccer club, all signs point to yes.

Considering socialized medicine, the death of imperialism and the rise of soccer, it would seem we as Americans have a history of arriving late to the all the best parties. With a national hysteria over the ending of the match with Portugal and the fevered anticipation of a faceoff with Germany that could propel us out of the vaunted Group of Death, soccer suddenly finds itself part of the national lexicon.

So it would appear the time has come to elbow Germany and England aside and assume our place at the trough. On the surface it’s a match made in heaven, for Bernie Madoff and those in the FIFA front office should hit it off smashingly.

So for all those years spent largely ignoring the World Cup. All those who gawked in bewilderment at Euro League jerseys tootling about the malls and theme parks of America. All the backyard fortune tellers espousing so passionately how “It’s catching on” or “One of these days it’ll be huge”. Mark this date on your calendars sports fans for, as far as American culture is concerned, it would seem soccer has finally arrived.

© 2014 Eric Walker Williams

Don't Feel Sorry for Captain Comeback

First appeared on September 25th, 2013
in The Lebanon Reporter

The San Francisco 49ers have gone from their SuperBowl appearance to preseason favorites to win the NFC West to a team racked with desperation after a 1-2 start. In the throes of Sunday’s 27-7 win, euphoric Colts fans became strangely conflicted over images of a lonely man on the sidelines. The one sporting the black turtleneck, sharpie clipped to his neck hole. A laconic face forced to look on helplessly, anguishing over every play, staring at his team in disbelief. That’s not the Jim Harbaugh we remember.

Sunday Indy was flawless. The defense reacting from perfect position, tackling with textbook precision. And in a league fawning over the pass, the Colts jettisoned one of the best defenses in the NFL by promptly running the ball down their throat in the Fourth Quarter. So with four minutes remaining and their team leading, a long forgotten part of every Colts fan began thinking comeback.
For, Colin Kaepernick voodoo doll or not, the tide simply had to turn at some point. This is completely understandable considering Captain Comeback himself was at the helm of the enemy ship.
But in the end Harbaugh came up short again.

Alas, don’t feel sorry for the man and don’t offer a hand up. The sons of football coaches line their bird cages with “Get Well Soon” cards. Besides, Harbaugh’s Midas touch from last year only meant his clipper ship was bound to hit rough waters some time. That’s Murphy’s Law and nobody’s exempt from it except apparently Bashar Al-Assad and the Chicago Cubs.

And while they exchanged a quick handshake at midfield, perhaps Chuck Pagano owed his opponent more. After all Harbaugh’s prints are all over Pagano’s team and the franchise. From his Captain Comeback days to the grooming of Andrew Luck at Stanford to helping Colts Offensive Coordinator Pep Hamilton author a ball control running style that, at least on Sunday, looks very promising, this latest incarnation of the Indianapolis Colts were built following a blueprint Harbaugh authored.

To Colts Fans Harbaugh remains a hero whose fate is tied to one play. One that again saw their quarterback scrambling for his life trying to avoid one of the 36 sacks he survived that season. One play from David, clutching a well worn copy of Football for Dummies, the chapter on ‘Winning Football’ still bookmarked with a Mayflower packing slip, versus the Goliath that was the Pittsburgh Steelers defense.

One play, one Hail Mary that would determine the AFC representative in the SuperBowl. One wobbly pass that seemed to hang in the frigid Pittsburgh air for an entire season, pulling Colts fans one and all from their couches in unison only to watch as it ricocheted off players like Oswald’s magic bullet before falling to the cold, hard, Three Rivers turf.

We recognized Harbaugh’s steely stare, his fiery bravado. But by Sunday’s Fourth Quarter, the stare was blank and the Colts had doused the bravado, if only temporarily. There was no better time for Indianapolis to play their best game. Falling to 1-2 after a disappointing home loss the week before and the earth-shaking trade it prompted would have been bad. And by bad, we’re talking a “Jim Irsay lobbying Twitter for more than 140 characters” kind of bad.

So many are quick to credit Peyton Manning with creating a football culture in Indiana. But history tells us it was more likely the run the Colts made in 1995, primarily under Harbaugh’s guidance, that first planted the seed. A magical season that saw Captain Comeback, and a once hapless franchise, come one play away from the SuperBowl.

© 2013 Eric Walker Williams