U.S. Loses but Wins Respect
We’re not worthy, we’re not worthy. Ask the rest of the soccer world how it feels about the United States playing host to the World Cup in 1994, and that’s the level of self-esteem we’re left with.
The basic, not-too-subtly delivered message: You can buy a World Cup tournament, but you can’t buy our respect.
The young Americans here have had to dog-paddle through that sentiment, and most of them will have nothing to do with the contingent we thrust into the gantlet two summers hence. No matter. American soccer is American soccer--a Big Mac to the gourmet palate--and so the U.S. Olympic team was awarded the stained carpet treatment upon its arrival in Barcelona this week. It was thrown into an opening-round mismatch with gold-medal favorite Italy.
It was denied the customary walk-through of Nou Camp Stadium, the site of Friday’s USA-Italy match.
It was scheduled first, 24 hours before the opening ceremony, in the dusk, with barely 10,000 semi-interested spectators (the crowd was announced as 18,000) rattling around a 120,000-seat arena weaned on the finesse and panache of European Club champion FC Barcelona.
And in the 21st minute, it was Italy 2, USA 0.
The potential for disaster was staggering.
“I was starting to worry a little bit,” said Mike Lapper of Huntington Beach, a starting defender for the United States. “I think we were in awe. The big stadium. The perfect field. Italy, the best team I have ever played.
“I was hoping we wouldn’t get buried.”
Italy had the shovels poised.
Fourteen minutes in, Lapper strays from his man, Alessandro Melli, in order to cover for a stumbling teammate, and Melli bursts into the clear--first for an uncontested shot on goal and then for the killing rebound.
Seven minutes later, Renato Buso finds Demetrio Albertini all alone on a breakaway, the ball’s in the upper right-hand corner of the net, and the United States is drowning in thin air.
Gulping for breath, the Americans hold their ground for the rest of the half, and Alan Rothenberg, president of U.S. Soccer and the chairman of World Cup ‘94, meets with the media during the break.
“Let’s go out there,” Rothenberg suggests to a few American journalists, “and pray for a miracle.”
Miracles happen on ice, not Barcelona sod. But the United States did come back to score once, and almost twice, playing the final 45 minutes as if it belonged on the same continent as the Italians, if not the same field.
The final score was 2-1, and Lapper decided that the folks back home “should consider this a good showing. For me, I’m disappointed; you might as well lose, 5-0, as 2-1. It’s still a loss. But we didn’t embarrass ourselves.
“We were outmanned, for sure, but we can hold our heads up.”
Not that Lapper could heed his own advice. Once the final whistle sounded, players from both teams met at midfield to shake hands--all except Lapper, who stood yards away, hands on hips, seemingly studying the fascinating pattern of cleat marks before his feet.
“I was thinking, ‘I screwed up,’ ” Lapper said. “We lost by a goal, and my mistake cost us that goal.
“If you shut down your man for 89 minutes and make one mistake, you still lose. For one split second, I didn’t shut him down. And on this level, that’ll bury you.”
Lapper’s misstep loomed larger after the 65th minute, when teammate Joe-Max Moore of Irvine converted a free kick to stunningly cut the deficit in half.
And a 2-2 tie was suddenly within inches. By that much, Cobi Jones’ dead-on kick was flicked away by a leaping Francesco Antonioli, the nimble Italian goalkeeper. In the 78th minute, Jones dribbled between two defenders and fired from short range, only to be denied by tips of Antonioli’s fingers.
Moore’s goal was a virtual replay of the free kick that got the United States past Mexico in its 1991 Pan American Games gold medal upset. A runt of barely 5 feet 9, Moore would seem to be the wrong man for the job--maneuvering the ball over and around a human wall of taller opponents--but he’s the U.S. specialist, courtesy of a six-foot metal fence that is currently the property of UCLA.
“We put that fence in front of the net, and I practice kicking over it,” said Moore, a midfielder for UCLA’s 1990 NCAA champions. “I’m not saying I’ve got it down pat, but the practice definitely helps.”
Moore and Lapper and most of the other Americans are here largely because of their birth certificates. Only players 23 and younger are allowed to compete in the Olympic tournament, which excluded virtually all of the U.S. World Cup team.
The Barcelona contingent is, basically, the double-A farm club. In the words of U.S. Olympic Coach Lothar Osiander, “1994 is a little early for them, but ’98 is definitely a possibility.”
Lapper grimaces when confronted with those words.
“I think our team is just as good, if not better, than the national team,” he declared. “I would love to have the chance to play them and see what the result would be.
“Realistically, about eight of us here will get a look. They might take four or so.”
The juniors acquitted themselves reasonably well. Next up is Kuwait, and then Poland, and if they win both, the Americans will advance to the quarterfinals--unprecedented heights for a country presently 2-11-4 in Olympic soccer competition.
“We better go to the quarterfinals,” Lapper said obstinately. “If we don’t, it will be a big, big disappointment. The way we played tonight, we’d better beat Poland and Kuwait.”
The way the Americans played Friday night, the rest of the world just might let them keep World Cup ’94.
