Spirit of 1776

For me, there's nothing like a game between the USA and England. They're not our biggest rivals; that honor goes, of course, to Mexico. And while I'd gladly watch us lose 10 games against England to watch one victory over Mexico, there's still something special about these games.

The thing is that we expect to beat Mexico, at least anywhere outside of the Azteca. We don't expect to beat England. We as Americans are so used to dominating sports that the events we really remember are the rare ones where we were the underdogs. The 1980 Miracle on Ice is probably the best example. There were Cold War overtones but what really made is special was that a team of American college boys defeated the might of the Soviet Red Army. The best example I can recall from my lifetime was the 4 x 100m Olympic relay from the 2008 Olympics. Everyone fancied the French to win it; the French swimmers themselves said they were going to "smash" us. For a long while it looked like that prediction would come true until Jason Lezak somehow pulled off the fastest relay split in history, winning by a split second and presenting us with the glorious sight of the French team in tears of bitter defeat. In my apartment you could hear my neighbors cheering and jumping around; my parents told me that the victory brought people into the streets to celebrate. The recent improbably defeat of Spain and the narrow defeat to Brazil at the 2009 Confederations Cup certainly ranks among these.

A lesser-known but perhaps more impressive example is the famous 1-0 victory over England in the 1950 World Cup, retroactively labeled the "Miracle on Grass." I strongly recommend reading Geoffrey Douglas' outstanding The Game of Their Lives, describing how a bunch of part-time second-generation immigrants managed to overturn the mighty England in Belo Horizonte, Brazil. These are the events that stand out to Americans because they are so uncommon. We all have fond memories of the 1992 Olympic basketball gold medal and the "Dream Team." But when you compare that - Michael Jordan and Larry Bird beating up on countries that barely even knew what a free throw is - to a rag-tag bunch of teachers, mail carriers, and dishwashers defeating the likes of Stanley Mortensen and Sir Tom Finney, beating Croatia 117-85 for the gold seems somehow hollow.

There are times when I feel disappointed that America as a whole has yet to embrace the "beautiful game." Yet I also know that should it become as popular as the "Big 4," then we would be expected to dominate the game the way we dominate other international sports. When that happens the burden of expectation will rob us of that glorious possibility of overcoming the odds and recording what is referred to in England as a "famous victory." As it stands, this game still feels like the battle between colonizer and colonized, of Inventors of the Game vs. Emerging Soccer Power.

Ironically, as I write this I'm sitting at Wimpy eating a full English breakfast. But I'm also clad in the 1950 USA World Cup jersey, fervently believing that we can win this game. There are footballing reasons to think this is possible - England are traditionally slow starters in international tournaments and they have suffered injuries to important players like Rio Ferdinand and Gareth Barry. But perhaps I am just relying on the hope that as in 1950 - and as in 1776 - the unfancied Americans can defeat the might of the British Empire.