RECIFE, BRAZIL — Growing up, my dad would always play “Death or Glory” by The Clash for our family before anything important happened. The title was self-explanatory, yet it carried so much weight. It described competition in its simplest sense: win or lose.
Thursday afternoon in Recife, Brazil, will be another opportunity to play the tune, but this time is different.
If you had to write a script to most dramatic storyline to a World Cup group stage match, the United States-Germany pairing would fit the billing. Both countries are playing for survival from the dreaded “Group of Death.”
Germany enters the match as a World Cup favorite, ready to prove how dominant it can be on the biggest stage. And there’s the U.S., which begs the world for relevancy and is led by former German player and coach Jurgen Klinsmann.
When Germany and the U.S. take the field, it will arguably be the biggest match in the history of American soccer. To Americans, the match is all about respect, and we want some of it.
So often there is a stigma surrounding American players claiming they can’t have the success Europeans are accustomed to. Sure, history can support the stigma, but cannot fail to recognize the recent rise in American talent over the last decade—scratch that, the last four years. In a nation where American football is king and all other sports are its subjects, soccer has started to make a little noise.
Thursday marks the 2014 NBA Draft, as millions gather around their flat screens and scroll through Twitter to see who their franchise wants to be a part of its future. But before they do that, millions will take a half-day at work or maybe take a long lunch, and will go to a bar or local establishment to watch the match. Our match.
My dad’s company has allowed its workers to wear red, white and blue and watch from the conference room—it's not Arena Permanbuco, but it’s a start.
My hometown, Cincinnati, has organized a screening of the match for thousands at the main city center and watch. For once, the U.S. is wrapped up in World Cup Fever.
As for me, I have a ticket to the main event: something that seems more like a dream than reality.
Seeing a World Cup match is both special and surreal. For Americans, we finally get to see all the players we wake up early on Saturdays and Sundays to see, only this time it’s in person, or at least in a more favorable time zone on TV.
Over the last two World Cups, I’ve attended a dozen matches and I’ve seen some of the greatest players in the game. But none of that compares to watching my country in person.
Last week, I went to U.S. vs. Ghana as an optimistic, but realistic fan. I’d lie if I said my eyes didn’t tear up when I sang “The Star-Spangled Banner,” full throat for all the Brazilians to stare and laugh. There’s no other place I’d rather do it.
It never really set in that I was watching my national side at the World Cup until John Brooks, a young center back who barely made the 23-man roster, was subbed in and scored the game winner with less than five minutes of play.
The shear joy and pride overpowered any other feelings. Nothing could replace that; not even Didier Drogba being subbed in as the crowd became electric or watching Luis Suarez become a vampire as he added another victim to his growing list.
I hope Thursday can build up to the hype already generated. It really is America’s “Death or Glory” moment. Win, and the unexpected tourney marches on. Lose, and it’s same as it ever was.
Americans pride themselves on the American Dream—the idea that you can create success from hard work. Maybe Thursday will be the start of a new chapter.
But probably not; after all, the U.S. is playing Germany.
Charlie Hatch, a sophomore at Ohio University and a staff writer for The Post, is in Brazil for the World Cup. Send him questions at @charliehatch_or gh181212@ohiou.edu.
