At times, a tie can feel like a win. And so it was for us walking out of the Royal Bafokeng stadium in Rustenburg after the US held off England’s late barrage and secured a 1-1 draw in its opening match of the World Cup. For me, it was far and away the best World Cup match I have ever attended. We sat amidst chanting and cheering American fans. Across the stadium, a banner said, simply, “1776, 1812, 1950, 2010.†1950 was the last time the US beat England in a World Cup match; the other dates you’ll have to figure out for yourself. We may have been outnumbered by English flags, but we felt mighty.
Then the players arrived on the field. For England, a veritable all-star team. Rooney. Lampard. Gerrard. Cole. Stars for their respective top flight teams. For Dylan and me, having watched them on TV week in, week out, it was daunting to see them next to the US players. Donovan. Dempsey. Altidore. Howard. No slouches, to be sure. But could they keep up with the top players in the game?
The match started brightly and when England opened up the American defense for an early goal right in front of us, it looked to be a long night. But the defense tightened up, the offense got dangerous, and England’s keeper made a horror show of a Clint Dempsey shot; the ball squeaked under him and rolled quietly across the goal line. The Joburg paper called it a “galactic clanger.†1-1, in any case. All square.
The second half brought more chances for England than for the U.S. but we held our breath as Jozy Altidore muscled off England defender Jamie Carragher and rifled a shot off the keeper’s hand and the crossbar. A collective groan went up from our section, quickly followed by cheers of anticipation and appreciation. Most among the American faithful were begging for a win, expecting nothing less. But I knew what a draw would mean – a valuable point toward the second round and bragging rights against one of the top teams in the world – and was quietly hoping for the clock to reach 90 minutes. As the end neared, I found myself screaming at the referee to blow his whistle. When he finally did, my cheer was the loudest. And even with the weight of a tired girl on my back, the long walk back to the car felt like floating on air. ¡Olé!