Jozy Altidore is one of the most exciting athletes I’ve ever seen play. It was like watching Jordan or Gretzky or every Brazilian player ever.  He just fucks motherfuckers up. Fakes bitches out of their jock straps and appears as if from nowhere to break up passes. Although HefNasty’s man-crush Landon Donovan didn’t play. Altidore’s sheer athleticism, skill and speed, along with the stellar play of both goaltenders provided one hell of a lot of excitement.

Soccer is perhaps the greatest test of human endurance outside of the Ironman. A soccer pitch is huge. Just massive. Around 15 yards longer and about 10 yards wider than an American football field, there’s barely enough grass in most football stadiums to contain a pitch. More importantly, these guys run. And run. And run. Then run some more – for ninety goddamn minutes. No turnovers. No huddles. No stopping the clock when the ball goes out of bounds. Just straight running. To give you some idea of how impressive this is, an NBA game is 48 minutes long – a little longer than ONE HALF of a soccer match when you factor in stoppage time. And there’s no hanging on your shorts and sucking wind during free-throws, no substitutions, no 20 second timeouts. Just fucking running – oh and trying to push a 6 foot 200 pound guy off the ball all goddamn night. Holy shit. These guys are athletes. Too bad no one in this country notices.

But it’s not so much about what happens on the pitch. The experience of going to a FIFA game is out of this world. You get this awesome sense of absolute fanaticism (The good kind. Not the creepy, “Cameron Crazies” kind), lawlessness, and pure joy of the game with a dash of anarchy and a heaping dose of national pride thrown in.

The best way to describe the anarchy in the arena would be the following: “Dear NFL, You are a bunch of fucking pussies. – Always, FIFA”. “Alcohol free section”? Fuck you! “No smoking in the concourse/bathrooms”? Blow me! “No fighting”? What? Nobody died right? Oh, and you know at NFL games, how they pour the beer out of the can into a cup and if you get a bottle of water, they keep the cap so you can’t use it as a projectile? Not FIFA, baby! “Here’s a full, unopened, 16 oz Budweiser. We trust you to drink it and not hurl it at someone as a result of the previous 6 you just drank. Thanks!” Oh, and even if the hooligan in the row above you mercifully opens and begins to drink his beer, just wait until his team scores a goal, because you’re most likely getting a shower. Security guards in every aisle? Not bloody likely. Those poor bastards had their hands full containing the fights up in the concourse. George Steinbrenner would shit a brick if he saw such lawlessness at a sporting event. Perhaps my favorite dangerous/illegal activity of the night took place during the Polish National Anthem. As the song reached its crescendo, fans lit off 2 Roman Candles (!) one releasing white smoke, the other, red, creating a perfect amateur pyrotechnic Polish flag. This made the arena smell like gunpowder for the majority of the first half. Fun stuff.

This is how sports were meant to be watched! Stupid American legal system. Beyond the delightfully unapologetic hooliganism**, what truly completes the fan experience is the competitive cheering. From the time the lineups were announced, the (woefully outnumbered) American fans attempted to drown out chants of “POLSKA! (Clap, clap clap) POLSKA! (clap, clap, clap)” with the old standby “USA! USA!” And when the US scored its two goals (each time to take the lead), Soldier Field was rocked with “USA!” Chants that could be rivaled only by a Christine O’Donnell rally or a Toby Keith concert. My sense of national pride was at an all-time high***. But the Poles (who had draped most of the surfaces in Soldier Field with various red and white banners, representing various regions and cities of Poland) struck back loudly with a cheer I won’t even attempt to spell or pronounce that we were told translates to “Never give up!” (I wanted to amend it to “Never give up, unless Germany invades, then give up and call America,” but it’s kind of a long-winded translation). These people DO NOT FUCK AROUND about soccer. As the masses chanted “Never Give Up!” in their native tongue, the looks on their faces were more impassioned than any Cheesehead, Masshole, RaiderNation member or booing Philly fan has ever looked or will ever look. It’s more than just a game to these people. I turned around to see looks that can only be described as sheer desperation combined with an intense sense of pride on the faces of the women sitting behind us. It brought to mind the scene in Casablanca in which Victor Laslo orders the band at Rick’s to play La Marseillaise, culminating in a tearful Madeleine LeBeau crying out “Viva La France!” The desperation and national pride of a young refugee hearing her home country’s anthem after nearly sleeping with the enemy almost equaled the passion on the faces of Poland's fans as they implored their beloved footballers to “Never give up!” and it gave me chills.

A few things to keep in mind when attending your first FIFA match:

Don’t expect to sit for anything resembling an extended period of time. We stood for the majority of the first half, finally grabbing some bench around the 13:00 mark – for about 15 seconds until Altidore scored off a pass from midfielder Jermaine Jones – who was making his international debut. The goal would kick off another intense cheer battle – and sitting would be kept to a minimum. It was as if the fiercely competitive fans were sending a message to each other “We’re not tired and neither is our squad!” Every other opportunity to ride the pine that came along would be interrupted almost as quickly as the first by a steal, a corner, a free kick, a hard slide tackle (incidentally, the stereotypes are true. Footballers flop. More than a few times, a guy would lie in a fetal position until the ref came over and administered the appropriate punishment, at which point, he’s spring to his feet and get back in position.) or an odd-man rush. There’s no “down in front” or “wait for the whistle” etiquette. There’s only leaving it all out there for your squad. Showing loyalty to one’s country, one’s squad is all that matters.

Just go with it. Things like “personal space” aren’t really at the top of anyone’s list. There’s this mentality that we’re all in this together and if we can see a good match and make it out alive, it’s all good. Seating isn’t really enforced. There are massive crowds in the aisles and concourses. You’ll probably have beer spilled on you, you’ll probably have to contend with the smell of some guy’s unfiltered Camel and another’s sleeveless, unshowered, deodorant-free pits. It’s not like a normal American pro sporting event. It’s not about “ensuring everyone has a fun and safe experience” or whatever the Christ they announce at MLB games. It’s not about “respecting each fan’s rights to blah blah blah…”. The experience is the insanity, the lawlessness, the anarchy. Take the jostles, jolts, spilled beer and occasional slight to you or your country in stride and don’t start shit unless you’re prepared to go the distance. And truth be told, if you don’t fuck with anyone, you’ll probably be ok. Just sit back and take it all in.

Participate. Have a few beers, loosen up and cheer your balls off. Unlike most American sports, vocally supporting your team throughout the game isn’t considered poor sportsmanship. Fans of opposing teams practically dare each other to cheer louder and most fans successfully walk the perilous line between good-natured fanaticism and violent over-aggression. This is aided in part by the group mentality. At an American sporting event, a boisterous, drunken fan is noticeable due the relative subdued nature of others in the arena. Additionally, this dynamic causes one on one, usually threatening shit-talking ie: “hey you fuck! I don’t like your stupid hat! [the star player from your team] is a faggot! Go back to [the town the opposing team hails from]!” These scenarios inevitably end badly. I only saw one instance of this type of singled out, verbal hostility at the soccer match. It was a drunken American sporting a Poland jersey in line for the men’s room. This dude would literally talk shit to anyone who walked by (including some poor bastard in Chelsea Blue who he blindsided with “Fuck you and fuck Chelsea”). Pretty sure this dude got the shit beat out of him. Hopefully, right? For some reason, this guy’s actions and words seemed more disturbing than even the few physical fights I witnessed. But the great thing about the group mentality of a soccer crowd is that it allows fans to sidestep the potentially awkward one on one confrontation. It’s all of us versus all of you. As I stood shoulder to shoulder with Americans chanting USA! USA! And Poles chanting POLSAK! POLSKA! I noticed half smirks as I made eye contact with opposing fans as if we were saying to each other “I get it. Bring it on!”

*side note on the tie: at the end of the game, the Americans, who came to see a US win, were understandably bummed. The Poland fans however, seemed ecstatic to have avoided an L.

**side note on hooliganism: if you want to fully understand the term “ugly American” look no further than international soccer. While fans in other countries have a far worse reputation when it comes to over the top cheering and violence, it stems from a different place. Most of the fights I saw were clearly started by mouthy Americans (it was a friendly for chrissakes) and the event was clearly just an excuse for most of these guys to get drunk and start a fight, later chalking it up to “hey, it’s soccer.” The Polish fans, while no less rowdy or violent, were motivated by more than knocking a few back and having a good time. It was clear they truly lived and died with this team to a degree that even the most die hard American fans would have difficulty comprehending.

***HefNasty and my dad had both joked during the weeks leading up to the game that I should sport the Polska Reds as a tribute to my heritage. I considered it until I had to watch a week of smug European journalist hurling asinine queries at America’s golf heroes during the Ryder Cup. Following the heartbreaking American defeat, I decided there was no fucking way I could support anything but the Red, White and Blue and thanks to HefNasty’s ever-growing wardrobe of US Soccer gear, I got to cheer my ass off in style.

-Wild

Bye, Bye Spain?

The transfer saga over American forward Jozy Altidore  has come to its end as the 19-year-old has signed a one year loan deal to play for Hull City in the English Premier League. Altidore announced via twitter that he will join the Tigers pending a work permit. Villarreal spokeswoman Marian Solsana told yanks-abroad.com that "Altidore is in England right now. We expect to make an announcement either today or tomorrow." Hull City has set up a press conference for tomorrow to introduce. Fulham and Everton were also in the mix for the teenage sensation, but Hull City had the most need for a striker with midfielder Geovanni leading the scoring for the Tigers in the 2008/09 season.  Jozy will be joining fellow countrymen Clint Dempsey (Fulham) in the Premiership this coming season as the second American attacker in the EPL. There were rumors of Altidore being loaned to another club in Spain or  Greece, but Hull City might actually be the best place for the former New York Red Bulls striker to see field even though the club plays  in one of the world's top leagues.
 
Hull City was promoted to the top tier of English football last season where they barely escaped regulation to England's second tier league. Five years ago Hull City was in the lowest tier of English football with the club in steady decline. New ownership breathed life into the club and in 2005 and 2006 Hull City moved from Division Three to League One to the Championship. Then in the 2007-08 campaign the club was promoted to the English Premier League making Hull City's move to the top the third fastest of all time.
 
Hull City is in the process of signing South African midfielder Seyi Olofinjana and is after another striker in Cardiff's Ross McCormack. Currently, Altidore will have to compete against Craig Fagan (3 goals in 22 appearences in 2008) and Caleb Folan (9 goals in 44 appearences since 2007) for playing time. We shall see if young Jozy will be the next American to make his way in England.

Is this the best move for Jozy? Comment below.

Sean Heffernan

Rock, Pitch, Catch.

You know it's a good moment when you feel like the credits are about to roll in a John Cusack movie.

Every sound drowns out as white noise and every movement seems to be in slow motion--especially in retrospect.

Allow me to set the scene:

I'm at my desk in Manhattan's Midtown East--a stone's throw from the Chrysler Building. The amount of work I have in front of me is suffocating. My desk is another area FEMA hasn't yet gotten to. I have publisher contracts, terms & conditions documents, notes, to-do lists, and empty bags of delivered deli sandwiches.

The game is in the top of the 6th and I'm using a supervisor's MLB.tv password, watching the game on "Mini View" positioned on the lower right hand corner of my screen, scrolling through the box score to get caught up. "God Dammit," I thought to myself, "I need to put the day games into my Outlook calendar." I always forget about day games until about an hour after first pitch. I remember them when I first sit down to my desk in the morning, but I never seem to be able to keep the thought around the time the game's set to start. As I scroll through the box score, I'm seeing a string of zeros that I need to double check.

Numbers are about 73% of my day in Excel. Check the formulas, check the format, make sure everything lines up, make sure nothing stands out, each row of numbers tells a story. The story in this string of zeros in the box score through 5.2 innings isn't something I've ever seen before while looking at the box score to see how the game's been going. No hits. Seveteen at-bats for the Rays, no hits. Errors? I scroll down to the Sox defensive notes below the offensive stats. None. No Errors. "Alexei must be awake this afternoon," I said to myself. Holy Shit! The White Sox have a perfect game going. Who's pitching? It's Buerhle. Wait... Buerhle?

Baby Buerhle

He's been the Sox's staff ace for 8 years now. I remember seeing him as a rookie in 2000 in the ALDS against Seattle, a series in which the Sox were swept. He hasn't changed much since. In fact, the only thing about Mark Buerhle that has changed is his now-I-have-it-now-I-don't facial hair (remember 2002's mutton chop sideburns? yeesh... And, yes, I had them too. Eventually.) and his habit of sliding on the tarp covering the infield during rain delays (a habit broken by threats of $5,000 fines from the front office). Mark Buerhle is the Everyman. He's such a relatable, regular guy that nobody ever gives him his due. Even I, the South Siders' biggest ambassador in New York when Obama's not in town, seem to glance over Buerhle when thinking of my Sox. And you know what? That's by design. That's exactly how Buerhle wants it. He takes the mound once every five days and follows a robotic pattern: rock into motion, pitch into the strike zone, and catch the return throw from the catcher. Rock, pitch, catch. Rock, pitch, catch.

Back to the top of the 6th: Kapler's up. I can never count Kapler out of anything. He's a stubborn son of a gun. Somebody told this guy he's too old to play. Somebody else set him up as a manager of a minor league team. What happens next? He says, "Screw these punk kids in the minors. I got somethin' else to give." Now he's in the second season of his second career as a big league ball player. Disney made "The Rookie" one Ray too early.

Gabe Kapler would have been a better story than Jim Morris.

Kapler grounds out to Boy Wonder Gordon Beckham at third: 5-3. Six innings perfect. It's still early though. There's still 3 more innings. That's one full swing through the line-up that includes 5 All-Stars (Pena, Longoria, Zobrist, Crawford, and Bartlett). Three more perfect innings is a lot to ask for from a guy that hopes--no,wants--you to hit the ball.

Bottom of the sixth. I have a meeting about a presentation for a campaign not set to launch until September. I sit through a re-group itching to get back to my desk to see what happens with Buerhle. Does he close or does flirting with the perfecto end at rubbing the small of its back? Meeting over. Perfect.

I get back to my computer, wake up my screen, put in my password just in time to see Gordon pop out to Pena at first to end the inning. But I don't care. I've already filed through the highlights of Josh Fields' grand slam (See what you did there, Josh? Job well done, sir. That's called hitting and we'd like to do be able to do it at a consistent clip. Thanks.) Great. Inning over, now let's get to the good stuff.

I scramble for my headphones during the commercial break between innings. "Hawk has got to be going nuts. I'll bet he's vibrating in his seat and Stoney is just wondering how the hell he could be sitting next to such a impartial homer of a Sox fan," I say to nobody in particular. Nobody outside Chicago knows or appreciates the greatness of listening to a Hawk Harrelson in the booth during a game. You don't feel like you're watching the game having to deal with intermittent comments about this pitch, what the manager said about that player, or any of that nonsense. No, you're watching the game with your overexcited old friend, uncle, grandfather. You're watching the game with somebody who shares your passion for the Good Guys--somebody who's heart is as black as yours during the summer.

He doesn't call the game. He cheers with you.

Found 'em. Earbuds go from my iTouch to my computer. And, yes, as I expected (hoped?), Hawk can barely contain himself. First batter of the inning, B.J. Upton. I don't care how much he struggles, he's nasty. And I'm willing to bet at this point, he's reeling to redeem himself for misplaying Alexei's line drive the night before. Not this time, B.J. grounds out to Alexei. 6-3. 8 outs to go.

Carl Crawford: Changeup right back at ya, Mark. 1-3. 7 outs to go.

The crowd's really getting into now. Every strike, every foul ball: it's all the most anticipated event of the day. In fact, I don't think I can handle this. I have enough work to keep me busy for the next millenia. I have approximately 175 unread emails sitting in my inbox. I really do have to get this stuff done, though. I don't want to create more work for my team as a result of my watching a perfect game that can very possibly still go sour any minute. But when will this ever happen again? I don't know. I can't predict things like this. My grandfather went an entire lifetime without having seen a White Sox World Series Winner. Nope, can't do it. I'm watching every second of this god damn game. Work's going to be there for the next 60 years of my life; perfect games and no hitters happen to your team once or twice in your life if you're lucky.

Evan Longoria: One pitch. Changeup. One can-of-corn fly ball to Jermaine Dye in right. 7 innings of perfect baseball.

I end up straying back to my Outlook to see if anybody's freaking on an "ASAP" basis. Blow it out your ass, ASAP. You'll get your deliverables, I'll hit my deadlines. Just work with me here. I answer 3 emails, organize 2 powerpoint slides, and manage to escape to take a leak so I won't have to miss any of the 8th or 9th.

I'm so excited that I can't handle it. My stomach's tighter than the OTHER Jay Cutler. The bodybuilding Jay Cutler. I haven't had a feeling this tight in my stomach since high school when, you know, I wasn't 25 pounds of beer and chicken wings. Without thinking, I commit the cardinal sin. I'm going straight to baseball fandom hell. "Hey, Buerhle's perfect through 7." And to the next guy, "Buerhle's perfect through 7." And to the VP of Research who knows everything there is to know about baseball, "Hey, Brad, Mark Buerhle is pitching into the 8th. Hasn't let a runner reach first. No hits, no walks."

No... I never had a single muscle like that. But you could imagine if I did, right?

Brad won't ever know it, but he's getting the call from the bullpen today. Dad couldn't make it to New York on such short notice. Brad's getting the spot start as the closest thing I can relate to as family. "Buerhle's got a perfect game going? Aw, come on, Will, I don't care about those Pale Hose," he says with a young man's antagonistic smirk on an old advertising VP man's face. "Let me turn on the radio. You can sit in my office and listen." I love this guy. "Man, act like I don't got this game on my computer taking up the full screen right now. Come on over, Brad. It's about to get wild over here." He lets out a knowing laugh. "My mistake, Will. How could I call you into question like that."

I forgot to take my piss. Jesus Christ... The game's back on and I've got a crowd around my desk. Three guys from the other side of the office floor, the guy who sits kitty corner to my desk, and a mix of people who pass by my desk but get tractor beamed back, I imagine, by the crowd hovering at my desk and what ends up being on the screen. A couple of women unhook themselves after they find out "it's only baseball". Thanks for coming, but this wasn't meant for you anyways. A couple others stay, "A perfect game? That's all strikes, right? I only know Randy Johnson did it like 2 years ago or something." Fair enough, A for effort. Please stay. Enjoy this with me.

The bottom of the 7th passes with my co-workers asking me to fill them in as if I've been watching the whole game. I haven't, but I talk like I do. After all, I've seen the highlights, right? The volume of the game is on my speakers now. No more earbuds, this is getting full volume. My dad ends up calling me, "Did you hear? We're trying to get it on the TV, but I don't think we have cable." He's always amazed when I tell him that I'm watching the game, or listening to it, at work. "They let you get away with that?" It's as if I'm stealing from the vault at Fort Knox. My brother IMs me. He pulls odd jobs and random tasks for one of the people in my dad's office. It's not a career choice, it's just a place to be online to bullshit with his older brother and his friends on AIM. He tells me they can't get the game on the TV because A.) the company doesn't have cable set up and B.) WhiteSox.com, MLB.com, ESPN.com, et al are all blocked. Nobody can see this unless they file into a bar on Clark St in downtown Chicago, which is funny because imagine how the office came to find out about it when the people coming in from the bars on Clark St came to talk--too many non-sequiturs and discrepancies to talk about here. If you're watching a PERFECT GAME over a Liquid Lunch on a Thursday, why go back to the office? You smell like booze and you're only thinking about the perfect game, right? Just go back to the bar and then go home.

Top of the 8th. I'm still on the phone with my dad, crowd's still around my desk. Here's where it starts to get surreal.

I can hear people talking behind me, almost as if I'm not there, while I'm on the phone with my old man.

"Look at this kid... he's gonna lose it with 2 outs in the 9th and we're just gonna move on. This is the biggest thing of his summer and we're sitting here trying to figure out how we forgot Chicago has two teams?"

"Yeah, really. I don't even like baseball. I just know that a perfect game is a big deal, I guess. Look at him. On the phone with Dad, his AIM's blowin' up all orange. This is pretty cool for him, I guess. I'm actually pretty jealous."

"Okay, Will." The voices are directed at me now. "Enough with the small talk with Dad, close the IMs, maximize the game. What are you doin' here?"

"Hey, Dad?" I say, "Lemme call you back in a bit. I got a crowd of anxious New Yorkers to deal with here."

First Up, Carlos Pena. His stats show up across the screen. 24 HRs? Jesus, this guy's a monster. Glad I drafted him in fantasy. But to hell with my "High School Never-Weres" ESPN.com fantasy team. I'm watching a fantasy right this second. First pitch to Pena, called strike. The crowd at the Cell cheers nervously with excitement. I'm getting chills and my right starts bouncing (I get antsy when I get worked up. You won't see it in my face, you'll see it building in my right leg. If you see it in my face, it's already too late. I'm about to snap.) It doesn't matter how quickly Buerhle works here. Each pitch, each stall between his rocking into motion, his pitching, and the umpire's call all culminate into held breaths and exhales mixed of relief, torture, and anticipation for the next pitch.

Second pitch to Pena: Changeup fouled off. OH, MAN! Did he just miss that, I thought.

Third pitch: STEEEEE! Pena goes down looking on a fastball on the outside corner, belt high. In other words, Pena looked at a meatball. He should have put that ball into Indiana. He knows it. Tail between his legs, Pena goes back to the dugout.

Ben Zobrist. I love this guy too. Goes about his business; and business is good. I'm nervous.

First pitch curveball fouled off. Ball. Foul ball for strike 2. Ball 2. Ball 3. Zobrist fouls out to Gordon Beckham on a changeup.

Two outs in the eighth. This is happening. It's going to happen. No way can he just let it go from here.

Pat Burrell. New to Tampa this year after a World Series Championship in Philadelphia and a career of underachieving.

Changeup called strike 1. YEAH, BABY! Here we go! Slider is absolutely RIPPED just barely foul of the left field line. It's so close to ruining everything that the ball spun around the umpire up the line. Any closer and it would have had been up to the home plate umpire to make the call. Thankfully, replays showed the 3rd base umpire to have seen it before his less than graceful twirl. Foul ball. Honest to God, that just felt like the final scene in Rookie of the Year when that guy who looked like Ogre from Revenge of the Nerds hammered the pitch from Hen-hen-ree-ree Row-ow-wen-wen-gard-gard-ner-ner-ner.

After everybody's settled down, Buerhle throws a fastball for ball 1. Fastball fouled off. Changeup fouled off. 1-2 count. Ball 2. 2-2. Changeup low and away softly lined to Beckham. Still perfect. Even more nervous. Jesus Christmas! Your mother fries good eggs!

Bottom of the 8th, the conversations continue. "I can't watch this. I don't know what you want from me... I blame my parents for making me a typical utterly neurotic New York Jew." My, that's a revealing statement. I'm going to leave that alone.

"CALL YOUR SONS! CALL YOUR DAUGHTERS! CALL YOUR FRIENDS! CALL YOUR NEIGHBORS! MARK BUERHLE HAS A PERFECT GAME GOING INTO THE 9TH!" ugh... Hawk said the same thing when Gavin Floyd had a no-hitter going last season against Detroit. Floyd ended up giving up a hit almost as soon as Hawk dropped that line. I swear to God if the same happens here...

The bottom of the 8th isn't much. Nobody cares. The Sox had already put up 5 runs. The game is won, but the perfect game remains. Oh, Carlos Quentin? You're back? Nice! Turn it on for us in the second half, big guy.

The camera's on Buerhle in the dugout. He's not by himself... no, this isn't the YES Network whereby once a week I'm subjected to a shot of David Cone or David Wells sitting by himself in the dugout. Buerhle's openly talking about it, it appears. He's playing grabass in the dugout. Hawk and Stoney are making note of it too. "Buerhle's not that type of player. He's not superstitious whereas so many other ball players traditionally have been. Yeah, he's throwing a perfect game and everybody knows it. He's not going to keep it a secret."

"Hopefully this doesn't backfire," I think to myself.

The bottom of the 8th passes with Beckham flying out and Jason Nix striking out. Sox fans at US Cellular go wild in anticipation of what's coming next. The stage is set for Mark Buerhle to, again, etch his name into history. What song do you think is running through his head right now? If it were me, I'd definitely be a Bruce Springsteen song. "Darkness on the Edge of Town", maybe? Does he go out for the ninth the same way he went out for the first with AC/DC's "Thunderstruck"? Or does he go out there only with the chills on his neck?

For the ninth, Ozzie puts Dewayne Wise into centerfield, moves Scott Podsednik to left, and takes out Carlos Quentin. Sorry, big guy, we aren't going to risk a perfect game on a dieing quail and your plantar fasciitis.

First batter of the ninth inning, Gabe Kapler. I'm fine with this. The 7, 8 ,9 batters are up in the ninth and Buerhle's been dealing all day long. We're good.

First pitch is a changeup called for a ball. The crowd moans. The umpire isn't going to give Buerhle's place in history to him easily.

Kapler tips the fastball from Buerhle. Just missed it. There's been a lot more foul balls in the late innings. The batters are seeing the ball better and getting a feel for how catcher Ramon Castro is calling the game.

Changeup fouled off. Two strikes. COME ON!!

Fastball. Ball 2. 2-2. Here we go, Buerhle. C'mon, kid. In my head, I'm reverting back to talking like I actually still play baseball as opposed to being fat just watching it. God damn, I want this to happen. I want to see this go all the way through.

Another fastball fouled off. Now I'm getting sick. Kapler's seeing the ball well enough to put his bat on it. It's only a matter of time before he puts it in play--

Oh, God. He just smacked a fastball--thigh high, inner half of the plate--to the power alley in left-center. He didn't hit the cover off the ball, but that's solid contact.

Wise is on his horse. He's going to run through the wall to catch this ball. He better. For his sake. The crowd around my desk just gave up on perfection. Not me. No way. Dewayne Wise might not be able to hit, but he can play the outfield for damn certain. Keep on goin, D-Wise. Keep Goin... Keep... Goin...

Holy Hell!

He's at the track... Leaps... THE BALL IS IN HIS GLOVE... at the wall, his body snaps like a crash test dummy... he hits the ground... he's getting up... AND SHOWS THE BALL!! HE GOT IT! YES! YES! YES! DEWAYNE WISE CAUGHT THE BALL! HE STOLE A HOME RUN FROM GABE KAPLER TO KEEP PERFECTION IN TACT!

The replay shows Wise bobbled the ball and almost put the perfect game into the centerfield grass. Nobody would have blamed him for the effort, but disappointment would have settled over US Cellular Field and Second City's Second Summer Franchise. Hawk calls it the greatest catch he's ever seen consider the circumstances. (Yeah, hyperbolic. But that's a different discussion.)

Everybody in the stadium, in my office, goes absolutely nuts after that catch. Nobody could actually believe a no-name defensive substitute made the play of the game to keep the perfect game intact.

The replay of Buerhle's reaction to the catch shows his stomach dropping and hopes crushed and then a facial expression that only said, "Thanks, Dewayne." He deals with it and moves on to whoever's up next.

Michel Hernandez. Strikes on swinging. I do my own strike 3 arm pumps and the crowd at The Cell is on its feet.

2 outs in the 9th. 1 out to go.

Hawk Harrelson can barely contain himself and Steve Stone can't get so much as a word in between Hawk's cheers.

Jason Bartlett comes to the plate hoping to be the guy to break up the perfect game. No team wants to be no-hit. There's just no dignity in not registering a single runner in a Major League Baseball game.

First pitch fastball. Called strike 1.

This cheer is notably louder than in the 7th and 8th innings. You can feel the excitement, the electricity. After Wise's catch, there's absolutely no chance that this perfect game isn't going through.

Fastball. Ball 1. Another fastball. Another ball. 2-1, hitter's count. Against an All-Star.

Unbelievable

Buerhle snaps off a slider. It will be his last pitch. And, appropriately so, a ground ball. A tailor-made ground ball, at that, to Alexei Ramirez at short. Alexei scoops the ball, flings it over to Josh Fields at first, and Celebrate. Exhale. Go Nuts. Soak it in. 6-3 in your scorebook to close out the perfect game for Mark Buerhle.

Hawk goes nuts, "Alexeeeeeiiiiii... YES! YES! YES! MARK BUERHLE! A PERFECT GAME!"

People now begin to linger back to work--back to reality. Myself included. But for those 45 minutes, I felt absolutely amazing witnessing a piece of history for my team.

We witness history more regularly than we'd all realize. Whether it be a Presidential news conference, an issue of the New York Times, or a baseball game, we all witness history but sometimes fail to acknowledge it.

Not this time, though; not for me. I rode that high of Mark Buerhle's perfect game for the rest of the afternoon as I received hand shakes and congratulations from every baseball fan in the office as though I had pitched the game myself. Silly, right? Wrong. Other fans appreciate the feeling of witnessing a player on your team accomplishing something so surreal that it's only happened twice in franchise history.

Before he left that day, Brad walked by my desk on his way out. "The Pale Hose! That Ozzie Guillen... he looks like a genius with that defensive substitution. Not bad, Will. Not bad at all," a ribbing is coming. I feel it, "Now only if people cared about the White Sox..." Yup, there it is. I know he's kidding. I've grown accustomed to the different type of humor on the East Coast and it serves me well.

A very typical New York sentiment, though, about so many topics: "Now only if people cared..."

Here's the thing, I don't need anybody else to care about my White Sox. I know I love my team more than I detest anybody else's. I'm content with that. And Mark Buerhle doesn't need anybody to recognize his perfect game. He knows he did it, he'll talk about it until his next start and possibly for the White Sox 2009 Season commemoration DVD. He doesn't need everybody to fawn over his accomplishment. In fact, he's already sick of talking about it. He's on to the main goal here: Win. Or Die Trying. Because, really, that's all that matters to Buerhle, whose outlook is representative of the entire team. Just go out there, do your job, and do it right. Rock, pitch, catch. Rock, pitch, catch.

Roll the credits. Happy ending. And with no White Sox to watch tonight, I've just added a slew of John Cusack movies to my Netflix.

Dr. Feel Good

-Wild

by Sean Heffernan

The storm over David Beckham’s return to America came to a head in an awkward moment during a press conference prior to the LA Galaxy’s match with the New York Red Bulls last Thursday. Beckham responded to a question from Sports Illustrated writer Grant Wahl by asking if Wahl’s question was for his second unofficial book or his magazine. The unofficial book Beckham referred to was Wahl’s The Beckham Experiment, which has been the biggest source of negative media coverage that has met the midfielder since he’s returned stateside from his loan deal with AC Milan. ...Wahl’s book included comments from Galaxy captain Landon Donovan criticizing the way Beckham handled himself the past few years in Los Angeles.

To add to the media fire during the half time of last weekend’s friendly between the Galaxy and AC Milan (the game was negotiated as part of Beckham’s loan deal) Beckham almost got in a physical altercation with an angry Galaxy fan who had jumped onto the field.  Yet, despite all the hullabaloo surrounding the international star, on the pitch things have turned around for Beckham and the Galaxy. L.A. is the hottest team in MLS at the moment, riding a three game win streak into this weekend’s clash with the Kansas City Wizards. As for the controversy, Beckham and Donovan met with each other in a meeting set up by Galaxy manager Bruce Arena upon the Englishmen’s return and worked out their differences. Still, as much as the Galaxy may want to put the disturbances aside and focus on soccer, I get the feeling that the rest of the season in L.A. won’t go drama-free.

When David Beckham first came to the Los Angeles Galaxy from Real Madrid, the Englishmen arrived in a media whirlwind as a soccer missionary to the United States. The American public underwent Beckham-mania leaving a lot of people wondering “Who was this extremely famous soccer player who talks like the GEICO gecko?” Beckham increased America’s awareness of soccer and the MLS, but the league was unable to fully capitalize on Beckham’s marketability as the midfielder’s first two years in the league were marred by injury and losing.

Beckham had come to Los Angeles with his tenure with England's national team seemingly on its last legs following his involvement in the 2006 World Cup. Then his former manager at Real Madrid, Fabio Capello, was hired as England manager following the Three Lions’ failure to qualify for EURO 2008. Capello began to call Beckham back into the England roster, but made it clear that if he wanted to be a part of the World Cup in 2010 that he needed to be playing at a top level European club. Bunkered in the terror that was last season for the Los Angeles Galaxy, Beckham made the decision to honor his Capello’s request and go overseas to super-club AC Milan on a loan deal.

Upon the Englishmen's arrival to Milan, Beckham answered his critics quickly earning a spot in the starting lineup chock full of elite players. Beckham’s playmaking abilities meshed well with the world class finishing of Alexander Pato, Filippo Inzaghi, and Ricardo Kaka helping the Italian club rediscover its form after a disappointing start to the season. Enjoying his success in Milan, Beckham announced that he'd like to stay beyond the original loan deal infuriating some Galaxy fans back across the pond. Was Beckham abandoning his American expedition?

His aspirations to lead the great conversion of America to “the beautiful game” had fallen to the wayside with his revised personal goals forging a new future for the world famous footballer. However, the LA Galaxy refused to topple over in negotiations when many European pundits thought the MLS club would cave in quickly to Beckham and mighty AC Milan’s demands. The Galaxy awarded Beckham an extension to his loan deal on the condition that returned for the second half of the Galaxy’s 2009 campaign and forked over a healthy amount of his own money to finance the loan.

 The debate over Beckham’s act of self interest was on display in his return to the Home Depot Center against AC Milan as the Galaxy’s supporters’ club the “LA Riot Squad” waved banners calling Beckham a fraud and a traitor. In the game of soccer playing for your country is everything. The World Cup is the biggest stage in the world of sports and you can't really fault any human being for wanting to be a part of that. If Beckham went against Capello's advice and thrown away his national team chances he would have been thrashed in the U.K. for turning his back on his country. The fact is that despite being in the latter stages of his career, Beckham’s skill set hasn’t deteriorated with his age. Beckham has made his living making his teammates better with his intelligent, deadly accurate passing. Prior to coming to America, Beckham should have known that his England days were not quite behind him yet. He’s guilty of underestimating himself, but Beckham doing what he needs to do to make it to South Africa next year isn’t something that should keep Galaxy fans up at night. However, there may be a few inebriated “Riot Squad” members that just think it’s too much fun to not harass Beckham now that he’s challenged them to a fight once already.

In the first half of Saturdy's friendly whenever Beckham touched the ball an amalgamation of cheers and boos cascaded onto the field from the stands evocative of the spilt amongst American soccer fans over #23. At half time Beckham approached the “Riot Squad” to make peace, but his efforts seemed to only encourage the section’s taunting of the superstar. Then uncharacteristically Beckham lost his cool and attempted to hop the barrier to confront the “Riot Squad” member. Thankfully security and the players on the field got a hold of Beckham before the situation got completely out of hand.

Earlier in his career Beckham had flicked off raucous soccer hooligans, but never had the former England captain lost his cool to the point of almost getting in a physical altercation with a fan. In the second half Beckham had the last word, rifling a hurling corner kick off teammate Bryan Jordan’s head and into the back of the AC Milan goal. Beckham turned around to find most of the Riot Squad cheering for the goal, a sign that in the end winning cures all. The Galaxy are a better team with Beckham is on the field and I don’t think it will take long for the fans to realize that.

Does this incident show that Beckham does care about salvaging something from his time in L.A. and even willing to go blows over it? I don’t blame Beckham for going to Italy, but I do think that he does owe an apology to Galaxy fans for the team’s poor play the last two seasons. The Galaxy invested a fortune in him and the least he can do is apologize for his mistakes and other commitments and move on. It doesn’t matter if leaving the Galaxy was the best option for Beckham, it matters that he takes responsibility for his actions. Honesty goes a long way with people.

I can see why Galaxy fans would be upset over not having Beckham for the first half of their season, but I think the fans have a lot more to gain by embracing Beckham than they do booing him. What does turning Beckham into a backstabbing villain do for the growth of soccer in this country? Nothing. All it is cannon fodder for Beckham haters and soccer haters.

MLS has learned its lesson in that one player can’t turn America into a soccer nation overnight, but at this juncture the best thing for this league is to get the most out of Beckham as they can before he leaves for Europe on another probably loan deal. Hopefully, the Galaxy will do everything in their power to secure Beckham’s return following next summer’s World Cup. His family will be settled in Los Angeles and Beckham can finish what he started in America.

Running the most marketable soccer player in the world out of the league is not a good business strategy for the MLS. The best thing for the development of soccer in America is for the Galaxy to continue to play the way they’re playing and make a run deep into the playoffs. It might even be ideal that LA comes up just short in the playoffs so that Beckham has additional incentive to return in 2010 and claim the MLS Cup.

We may not know what the future holds for the world’s most well known footballer and his foray into the American sports landscape, but the coming months will certainly help to define what David Beckham’s legacy will be in the United States when all is said and done.

by Sean Heffernan

After announcing  he's through with Italian football, Pavel Nedved (Czech soccer legend and now former Juventus star) is considering a move to the United States to professionally. Recently, the MLS has been an attractive setting for players who are nearing the twilight of their careers.  Late career moves to MLS have played out successfully for players like Cuauhtémoc Blanco (Chicago Fire), Guillermo Barros Schelotto (Columbus Crew), and Freddie Ljungberg (Seattle Sounders FC). At 35, Nedved is coming off a stellar season with his long time club Juventus and can still perform at a very high level for at least a few more years.

 The best situation for the MLS would be if Nedved went to one of the bigger media markets America so to maxmize the exposure Nedved would garner. The L.A. Galaxy already has enough invested in David Beckham so I doubt they’d be in the market for another big name. Likewise, the Galaxy's Los Angeles rival, Chivas U.S.A., typically doesn’t splash money around on non-Latino players. Whereas the New York Red Bulls have big plans for next season with their new stadium opening and signing Nedved could be a good step in turning the club around after a dismal start to this year's season. I hope Pavel and his representation take Beckham's hardship in LA as a good lesson to go to a team that can win right away (unlike the NYRB). The Red Bulls might already have their sights set on bringing in Frenchmen Thierry Henry after next year’s World Cup.

 The New England Revolution are a step up from the NYRBs talent wise, especially if they ever get healthy with good veteran players in Taylor Twellman, Sharlie Joseph, and Steve Ralston on roster. Boston is still a pretty large media market and the Revs have a strong following. On the downside ,the Revolution have gotten off to a bad start so far this season and would need to come on strong the second half of the season to have any chance at making the playoffs. Also, the Revs don't have a soccer specific stadium so Pavel would be playing his home games in a half empty Gillette Stadium.

Chicago and Houston have the largest Czech populations in the United States according to the 2000 census so the Fire or the Dynamo would both be good fits for Nedved (who represented the Czech Republic in the 2006 World Cup). With the rumors that Blanco might leave Chicago after this season, Nedved could be seen as a replacement for the Mexican playmaker in the Windy City. Both Houston and Chicago are in first place in Western and Eastern Conferences currently, so the need for a player of Nedved's quality isn’t a immediate necessity for either club. However, Chicago has seen a dip in attendance this year so adding another big name might give them a badly needed boost in ticket sales.

Toronto FC is a good team with one of the best fan bases in the league and  BMO Field  is one of best soccer stadiums in the MLS. Yet, Nedved's agent remarked that the United States was a country that interested his client so based solely on those remarks you wouldn't expect Nedved to play for a Canadian team. D.C. United seemed to be in the mix for the Czech, but they signed former U.S. Olympic midfielder Danny Szetela this week making a move for Nedved unlikely. Real Salt Lake would benefit from a player like Nedved, but Salt Lake City may be too small of a market to attract that big of a fish.

I wouldn’t blame next year’s expansion team, the Philadelphia Union, to model themselves after the business model Seattle laid out last year when they signed former Arsenal star Freddy Ljungberg prior to their inaugural season. Ljungberg has been a real hit on and off the field in Seattle who've been selling out home games all year. The Union could sign Nedved and make him the face of the franchise before their club ever plays a game creating excitement around the club in Philly. If you’re going to model your sports team around a player, Pavel Nedved is not a bad choice. He’s a consistent professional who’s had a great career for both club and country.

Regardless of what teams are in contact with Nedved, I hope the MLS is doing everything in their power to make this move a reality. When David Beckham hit stateside two years ago the league hoped his arrival would convince more of the world’s stars to come to the MLS. Pavel Nedved coming to America would be nice victory for the soccer movement in this country. I hope it happens.

What MLS club should Pavel play for? Please leave your comments below.

I hope Jozy likes Gyros

By Sean Heffernan

Young striker Jozy Altidore could be joining fellow countrymen Oguchi Onyweu (AC Milan in Serie A) and Charlie Davies (Sochaux of the French Ligue 1) to switch clubs this week as a loan deal is in the works with the Greek Super League defending champions, Olympiacos, according to Goal.com. ... Altidore made worldwide news earlier this summer in South Africa, scoring the winning goal for the United States in their impromptu defeat of FIFA #1 ranked Spain in the Confederations Cup. After putting the ball past Spanish keeper Iker Casillas and running to the sideline ripping his shirt off I had a feeling someone was going to take the 19-year-0ld forward off Villarreal's hands this season.

Last summer Altidore set a record transfer fee for Major League Soccer when the Spanish club bought the former New York Red Bull for $10 million. The youngster looked promising in his six appearances for Villarreal scoring one goal. However, a loan deal to second tier club Xerez in Spain was struck where Altidore oddly was never given an opportunity to play.

Altidore's prospects for finding the field in Greece will be much better. Olympiacos does have two promising young forwards in Brazilian Diogo and Englishmen Matt Derbyshire on roster. Diogo's time with the club has been plagued by injury, but is still regarded as one of the most promising young exports from Brazil playing in Europe today. Derbyshire spent time in the English Premier League with Blackburn Rovers seeing some success, but was loaned to Olympiacos last year where he flourished in his 13 appearances scoring 8 goals. The Greek side bought the former England U-20 prospect outright from Blackburn after the season.

Without ever stepping on the field one would assume Altidore will at least be the first striker off the bench at Olympiacos. Last season the Athens based club's leading scorer was Argentine midfielder Luciano Galletti leaving manager Temuri Ketsbaia expecting more goal production out of the club's forwards for the coming Greek Super League season.  

For now the deal has not been announced by either parties and agent Lyle Yorks has suggested Altidore has other options other than Greece, "There is also interest in Spain (La Liga), Germany and the EPL," Yorks told Goal.com.  The striker's agent hinted that Altidore'sfuture will be solidified shortly "We should finalize something in the coming week or two."

When all is said and done I hope that Jozy finds himself in Athens. United States Men's National Team fans will hope that wherever their budding goal scorer ends up that he finds himself in the starting 11 on a regular basis so that he is fit for next summer's World Cup in South Africa. At Olympiacos Jozy will compete for a starting spot on a good team and will have ample opportunitieswith the club's involvement in Greek Cup competitions and the Champions League in addition to the domestic campaign. Let's hope for an official announcement in the coming days.

 Leave your comments below!!

Oguchi Onyweu: American Bad Ass

Oguchi Onyweu to AC Milan
After his performance in South Africa, American center back Oguchi "Gooch" Onyweu was signed by Italian giants AC Milan at the last hour. I'm sure Onyweu was a bargain for Milan, but I think the 6'4 towering defender has a real shot to earn some playing time this next season. ...The Serie A in Italy has been a largely unexplored league for American players and if Gooch finds success it could open some doors for US players abroad.

US Off and Running in the Gold Cup
As expected the US continued its good form from the Confederations Cup running over Grenada 4-0 in their opening round then outlasting a cagey Honduras squad scoring two goals in the second half to win 2-0. After the final game against Brazil in South Africa, Head Coach Bob Bradley was criticized for his substitutions that didn't prevent the Samba Kings for scoring 3 unanswered goals in the second half. However, in the Honduras game Bradley's insertion of Charlie Davies and Benny Feilhaber in remaining half hour of the game really made the difference.

Charlie Davies to France...
The hits keep coming for the US squad that shocked the world in South Africa. Forward Charlie Davies (who scored a pivotal goal against Egypt to help send the US through the group stage in South Africa) is headed to French club Sochaux from his former club in Sweden, Hammarby. Perhaps Davies will bring his trademark goal celebration "The Stankyleg" to Eastern France. I don't know a US international with a faster trajectory professionally right now. Congrats Charlie.

What to Watch
Saturday will be an action packed night for US Soccer fans as the Americans play Haiti in their final Gold Cup group stage game on FSC at 6 PM EST. At 7 EST ESPN is airing its MLS Game of the Week with a rematch of last year's Eastern Conference playoff clash between the Chicago Fire and Columbus Crew. Then after the US game Landon Donovan returns to LA to face intercity rival Chivas USA in the Superclasico on FSC.

Zak Whitebread
Perhaps the biggest surprise snub from Bob Bradley’s 23 players he has initially called in to the US camp is Milwall center back Zak Whitebread. The defender had a great season in England helping Milwall make a run at the championship. It was even rumored that he was getting looked at by a number of bigger clubs around Europe.

Chris Pontius
The DC United winger is an early candidate for rookie of the year award this season in the MLS. Pontius has size, speed, and the knack to make things happen around goal. This season the former University of California –Santa Barbra standout has already scored four goals and notched two assists.

Mikkel “Mix” Diskerud
The Norwegian-American recently played for the U-20 US squad in a friendly against Egypt scoring the only goal in 1-0 victory. Every time “Mix” is on the field he makes an impact with his club. The sooner we get him in the Men’s team the better. He’s only a year younger than Altidore who started every game of the Confederations Cup. I’d hate to lose him to Norway’s national team.

Jemal Johnson
The MK Dons regular is another Yank who has seen success in England’s League One division. The speedy winger can score goals as well cross dangerous balls into the box. His experience abroad would be a nice addition to a MLS-heavy Gold Cup squad.

Chris Rolfe
Partnered with Brian McBride in Chicago, Rolfe won back his starting striker position from Patrick Nyarko after coming off the bench the first few weeks of the season. Rolfe has “Landon Donovan” qualities and is a creator on the attack.

Nate Jaqua
The big bodied Seattle Sounders striker has found the back of the net six times already this season in the MLS. The US team seems to play well with at least one “big” striker who can hold up the ball and be dangerous in the air. Jaqua has five assists to go along with his goal scoring prowess anchoring the potent Sounders attack.

Jeremiah White
Teammate of Benny Feilhaber at AGF Aarhus has been a career journeymen in Europe who had one of the best years of his career this season in Denmark. His speed and experience as a natural right winger could benefit the US.

Honorable Mention: Bobby Boswell, Robbie Findley, and Brad Davis

The Americans’ defeat of the best soccer team in the world (Spain) today in Bloemfontein, South Africa will go down as one of the greatest sports victories internationally in the history of our country. The 2-0 victory in the semifinals of South Africa’s Confederations Cup is being dubbed “The Miracle on Grass” in honor of the 1980 “Miracle on Ice” over the Soviet Union at the Winter Olympics. ......

Like in 1980 the Americans were giant underdogs going up against a much more talented, experienced opponent, but with a fighting spirit and a refusal to quit the US was able to do what was thought to be impossible.

Sports pundits in this country aren’t forced to talk about soccer often so when confronted with the world’s game they typically resort to negativity. When the US Men’s National Team snuck its way into the semifinal game of the Confederations Cup in South Africa across the American sports media cited a sketchy rule in the tournament that allowed the US to advance. It was a miracle in itself that the US made it to the semifinals after losing their first two games of the tournament to Italy and Brazil respectably. It took a gutty 3-0 win against the champions of Africa, Egypt, and help from the Brazilians defeating Italy by the same score line to send the Americans through on goal deferential.

Unlikely as it was, the United States was set to face the FIFA ranked #1 team in the world with a chance to make the final. Spain had not lost a game since 2006 and in the Confederation Cup’s group stage they had not allowed a single goal. Spain’s starting eleven consisted of players from some of the best teams in Europe all of who get paid millions of dollars to play professionally. The arguable best player on the US, Landon Donovan, only makes $900,000 a year with his MLS side LA Galaxy. Spanish strikers Fernando Torres and David Villa are two of the most dangerous forwards in the world. It was expected by every sound soccer mind that the Spanish would pass the American defense to death.

US Coach Bob Bradley instructed his players to adopt a “bend but not break” attitude to containing the fearsome Spanish attack. From the kickoff Spain controlled the possession of the ball, but the Americans stayed true to their game plan. US goalie Tim Howard was tested early and often, but kept himself always in good position denying the defending champions of Europe again and again. In the 30th minute the US took a 1-0 lead when Clint Dempsey played a ball into 19-year-old forward Jozy Altidore who out-muscled defender Joan Capedevila and sending the ball off keeper Iker Casillas’s fingertips into the Spanish goal. In the second half Spain stepped up the onslaught on the United States defense.

The eleven Americans ran, jumped, slid, and dived all over the pitch to keep their opponents out of their net. It was evident that US squad began to believe more in themselves as the minutes ticked by drawing them closer and closer to sports history.

In the 73rd minute Clint Dempsey, who against Egypt helped the US out of the group stage scoring a late header, struck again as Landon Donovan crossed a dangerous ball into the Spanish box where Dempsey dislodged the ball from center back Gerad Pique and buried it into the net putting the underdogs up 2-0.

Though Spain continued to attack the Americans after going down by two you could almost see the air go out of the number one team in the world as they were unable to find a way past the gritty US. When the official’s final whistle blew in the Free State Stadium in Bloemfontein the crowd comprised of mostly South Africans applauded the United States for pulling of a historic upset.

The US will face the winner of Brazil and host nation South Africa on Sunday. When asked to express his feelings after the game Tim Howard struggled, “I can’t explain anymore than you can. Sports is funny sometimes, but when you put your mind to something you can achieve it.”

This victory doesn’t instantly push the United States into the upper echelon of soccer countries, but it does prove the point that the Americans can play with the best in the world on any given occasion and sometimes even beat them. Today is a great day to be a US Soccer fan and for anyone for that matter who takes pride in the good old Red, White, & Blue.