АНУ-ын хөлбөмбөгийн шигшээ багийн ДАШТ-ий замнал өндөрлөлөө

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Fine, guess we’re just a football nation.

Clearly not that kind of football. The futbol adored in the favelas in São Paulo, the suburbs of Paris, all across the promenades in Casablanca — yeah, that’s not for US. Although we like to kid ourselves that the United States of America, gleefully unconvinced of the allure of soccer and woefully unskilled in the quality of soccer, could become a soccer nation. Or, that one day humungo Major League Soccer stadiums, or stades as they’re called elsewhere, could be filled to the skylights with ultras.

That was a nice dream while it lasted. All three weeks of it.

If this latest clumsy World Cup performance from yet another so-called USMNT “golden generation” settled anything, it should be that America is not built for the beautiful game. This sport belongs to the world. We borrow it every few years. Footy is their one true love; we just play footsy and flirt around with it. Although our women masterfully represent in the country’s colors, our male athletes cloak themselves in red, white and lose.

So let’s just admit, once and for all, that professional soccer will never rise to the level of the four titan leagues in this country. America is not a soccer nation, nor are we a global threat in this game. Please, stop pretending that we will ever be.

I can already envision how these words might land with the millions of Americans who confess soccer as their passion. They’re probably clutching their Arsenal scarves aghast and drowning me out with their drum sections. Seriously, you all have my respect. Some of the most fun I’ve experienced as an adult sports fan has come in the bleachers at MLS and NWSL matches. One of the most rewarding assignments I’ve covered happened at the FIFA Women’s World Cup in Australia and New Zealand, where the U.S. women’s national team fell well short of winning its fifth overall prize, but other international powers, specifically La Roja, put on a show. However, though fun and full of vibes, this game is still a niche in these parts.

That should be OK. Perfectly fine for the world’s obsession to remain as a hobby here. No matter how often the homeland evangelists crow about this year or that year finally being the year.

On Monday night, as soon as it became evident that Team USA would lose in the round of 16, a 4-1 defeat to Belgium that felt like watching 11 guys take turns slipping on a banana peel for 90-plus minutes, the Fox Sports commentators turned into apologists. They pleaded with their American television audience to please, pretty plllease, give this game a chance beyond the four-year cycle of the World Cup.

We’ve heard this appeal before. Just as much as we’ve experienced the unmerited confidence displayed two hours before the match by someone like Alexi Lalas, who predicted the USMNT would “kick some (tail).” However, this bandwagon cycle, cruising along after a win or two in the World Cup, only to be abandoned on the side of the road by the likes of Christian Pulisic, Clint Dempsey, DaMarcus Beasley or Landon Donovan, has run its course.

This should’ve been the year for America — again, speaking solely about the American men — to show some might in this global game. Yet, even with everything stacked in our favor, we still looked like a weakling.

We had a roster full of players who speak with European accents, meaning they grew up and learned the game in nations where this sport matters, and homegrown heroes who star overseas and still lost to a nation one-twenty-ninth our size. Sergiño Dest came of age in the Netherlands, home of Oranje, and he looked the least prepared through the first half against Belgium. Pulisic, a midfielder for AC Milan, somehow injured himself after kicking the back of his opponent’s boot and had to leave the pitch. I mean, really, Captain America?

We had home-field advantage, the USMNT playing all its matches on the West Coast, and still lost. No one can blame crowd noise for keeper Matt Freese’s forgetting how to kick, nor can anyone look at the waves and waves of watch parties across the country and condemn the U.S. for not supporting this team enough. After all, the U.S.-Belgium broadcast averaged a record-shattering 30 million viewers.

We even had our president interjecting himself into a fight that should’ve been out of his jurisdiction, and still lost.

When President Donald Trump gently raised the possibility (wink, wink) to reinstate star striker Folarin Balogun, he made us embody the worst of the “ugly American.” The stereotype that we stomp around other people’s turf, loudly and boorishly, never respecting the customs of the land. With Trump acting as our unsolicited savior, we came across as the hosts-slash-interlopers who were too entitled and too frightened to play by the rules. Balogun’s red card might have been a joke, but Trump’s bulldozing lacked integrity. Had we entered the showdown with Belgium honorably, it would’ve been fine to lose as underdogs and then make fun of their waffles. Instead, we’re left with a tarnished image as front-runners that will follow the USMNT for years to come.

Yes, this should’ve been the year. But it’ll never be the year.

We don’t have to dominate in men’s soccer. Nor should we be torn up that we don’t. Take it from Pulisic. Last month, ahead of the biggest sporting spectacle in the world, he sounded like every casual fan in this country.

“I get texts from my family and close friends — they’re definitely all excited about it, for sure,” Pulisic told GQ. “I mean, I feel like I’m constantly playing in big games. For me personally, it’s not like all that much is changing. It’s just another big tournament, to be honest.”

If the face of U.S. men’s soccer sounds this blase about it all, then shouldn’t the rest of us?

Belgium cares about soccer. So does Morocco, Norway and Switzerland, but guess what — none of these football-crazed countries has ever won the World Cup. They’ve poured their resources, their time, their very souls into this sport and have never lifted the 18-karat gold trophy. Neither will we. The optimists will say the USMNT still has a cupboard full of young and exciting talent, and seemingly the right coach, so there are reasons to believe we will win. However, they believed four years ago, and four years before that. And when America gets bounced, again, in the round of 16 in the 2030 World Cup, they’ll keep believing in a breakthrough that might never come.

So it’s OK that America, with its addiction to the NFL and countless other diversions to bet on, reigns in football, just not futbol. This feels like surrender, a resignation to competing against the world, but it’s truly a return to normalcy.

In other countries, a loss in the World Cup is a massive heartbreak. In America, it’s a Monday.