U.S.-Algeria

The morning after Portugal caused the North Korean government to organize some 'planned suicides', I got onto a flight to Johannesburg. This was difficult, as I had been up far too late drinking after the game. Great times leading to great hangovers. As they say.

Well, as I say. I just made that up. It won't catch on.

My flight went to Jo'burg, but my destination was Pretoria, and after a $40 taxi ride from the airport (South Africa is not real great with the mass transit), I made it to freezing Pretoria. For those of y'all who have forgotten, it's winter down here. And Pretoria is pretty high up in elevation. I didn't pack for this.

I had been concerned that there would be no available accommodation in Pretoria, but the first place I called from the airport told me they had a bed. So that worked out. And it turned out that it was filled with U.S.A. superfans. And two girls from Egypt and Algeria (well, California, really). Partly because I thought it was interesting that a girl in a head scarf was hanging out with this crowd, but mostly because I was hungry, I took them out to dinner.

After eating, we met several other people from the hostel at the Pretoria fan park and watched Italy get knocked out of the cup. Most people were cheering for Slovakia, because, I guess, screw Italy, and it was a pretty fun time. Even if beers did cost five bucks.

The next day, I walked with the kids from the hostel to the stadium and scalped a ticket for the game for less than face value. I felt bad not having any U.S. paraphernalia, as I was walking with men dressed up as Superman and Captain America, with one or two Wonder Women and a pretty great Uncle Sam. I had to go buy a jersey when I got to the stadium.

In the beer line, I met Hayden from Uvalde. He was wearing a Texas flag as a cape and had a two beers already in his hands. I told him I was from Austin, and we discussed Texas and U.S. soccer, with Hayden declaring that "this is the most important game in the history of soccer for the United States." After the game, in the jubilation, I would agree with him. I still do. But standing there shotgunning Budweiser with my new friend from Uvalde, I thought it a bit of an overstatement.

One thing did strike me, though. Standing in front of the stadium with a man wearing a cowboy hat and a Texas flag, more than 50 people (I stopped counting around 30) stopped to say they were from Texas. By the end of the Cup, I had noticed an amazing amount of people from Texas in South Africa, but prior to this, my first live U.S. match, the number and frequency amazed and delighted me.

Another thing that I greatly enjoyed were the chants. We don't have many that involve the melodies to popular songs or any with great tradition, but we've come up with some gems. My two favorites:

"Who dat say dey gonna beat our Yanks?" Not a Yankee, but I love it nonetheless.

and

"U.S.A. ain't nothin' to fuck with." Easy, repeatable, true.

I'm assuming a general knowledge of how the game ended, so I won't cover it here. But I will mention that it was as exciting as a Texas bowl win. Easily. I shocked myself with how much I cared and how much ecstasy I felt when we scored the winning goal.

Hayden had been right. You may disagree, but from where I was that night, it was the greatest win in the history of U.S. Soccer.