Entering the great unknown

Time U.S. fans stop falling back on successes of '02

Posted: Sunday June 11, 2006 9:08PM; Updated: Sunday June 11, 2006 9:08PM

	If the U.S. hopes for another Round of Eight run, look for Brian McBride to play a key role. Andy Lyons/Getty Images

Mark Mravic, SI.com

I stood on my seat at the stadium in Jeonju, a U.S. flag draped over my shoulders, screaming out at the top of my lungs. "Na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na, hey, hey, goodbye!" I'd long since abandoned any semblance of journalistic objectivity.

The old rules -- "no cheering in the press box" -- didn't apply. I was in the stands, a fan now, one of several thousand vastly outnumbered Americans who'd made it to the Round of 16 game against Mexico in 2002. And we had good reason to serenade El Tri. Our despised archrivals were going out in the ugliest way imaginable. If I had lost my objectivity, the Mexican players had lost their minds. Down 2-0, they gave up any attempt at a comeback, expending what little energy remained in blind fury, flailing at poor Cobi Jones with feet and heads and generally acting like poor sports. It was a good day to be an American soccer fan.

The intervening four years have been good ones for American fans, a kind of golden age. U.S. Soccer has earned begrudging respect from the rest of the football world (though too few foreign journos can ID Pablo Mastroeni and too many still wonder why Freddy Adu isn't in Germany.) The last World Cup announced the arrival of the U.S. as a team to be reckoned with on the international stage. The successes beyond that point -- the Gold Cup championship in '05, the relatively easy run through qualification for '06 could be seen as building off of 2002. The setbacks-failures at the Confederations Cup and Gold Cup in 2003, losses to Mexico in Olympic qualifying in '04 and at Azteca Stadium in '05 -- could be explained away or simply overlooked. We had 2002. We had the win against Mexico when it counted most. 2-0. The quarterfinals. Scoreboard, baby.

But have U.S. fans been a little too quick to fall back on 2002? Are we a little too caught up in the memories of that phenomenal run, too happy to repeat the "quarterfinals" mantra? That thought crossed my mind last week as I screened FIFA's official U.S. highlight video from 2002, Coming of Age, for the umpteenth time. And watched Our Way, U.S. Soccer's own compilation from Korea. And tuned in to ESPN Classic's rebroadcasts of the Yanks' games against Portugal and Mexico. Not for the first time, I was thrilled to the shock of the British announcer on the FIFA video as he awakened to the Americans' prowess in the first 35 minutes of the Portugal game: "It's 3-0 to the U.S. More than that, it's scarcely believable!" I reveled in Jack Edwards' breaking voice on his goal calls on ESPN, and his cheesy attempts to convey the momentousness of what was happening in front of his eyes: "I can guarantee you traffic is stopped all over Europe!"; "The Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave is into the Round of Eight!" And I relived every memorable moment: O'Brien's thump-in, Donovan's excuse-me goal, McBride's diving header, Mathis's left-footed cannon, Friedel's saves, Reyna's near-miss from near midfield, Sanneh's heartbreaker into the side netting....

For better or worse, at noon ET on Monday, all that will become obsolete. For U.S. fans, the kickoff against the Czech Republic in Gelsenkirchen will signal the moment to let go of Korea. The 2002 World Cup will be part of the past. No longer will the roll call of triumphs and moral victories -- Portugal, Korea, Mexico, Germany -- stand as evidence of American soccer's ascendance. Those great moments will be relegated to history.

I have to admit, it's a scary thought. On Monday, U.S. Soccer enters the great unknown. Was 2002 merely a fluke? (After all, there wasn't just Jeonju. I remember my head sinking to the table in a bar in Tokyo as Poland went up 3-0 on the U.S., then cheering crazily when the Koreans scored against Portugal and held off a furious late rally, allowing the U.S. to sneak out of the group through the back door.) If we put up a good fight in Germany but fail to advance out of our tough group or, heaven forbid, bomb out like in '98, the skeptics and the soccer bashers, in the U.S. and abroad, will sharpen their knives. For American fans, there'll be no quick comeback.

But we can't let fear govern our soccer-loving lives, can we? There are great memories to come in the next few weeks, in Gelsenkirchen, Kaiserslautern, Nuremberg and -- fingers crossed -- beyond. So to Korea 2002 I stand up for the last time, tie my flag around my neck and sing out: Hey, hey, goodbye.

Parting is such sweet sorrow.

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