USA vs. Argentina June 8, 2008

The trip from my parents’ house in South Jersey to Giants Stadium, where my brother, girlfriend and I had tickets to the USA vs. Argentina soccer game was, according to Google Maps, only supposed to take an hour and a half. When we stopped at Burger King after an hour and a half on the road, we were only about halfway there. The trip would eventually take more than three hours in stop-and-go traffic along the entire length of the NJ Turnpike.

Starting about ten miles out from the stadium, my brother and I (my girlfriend would be meeting us at the stadium) were entertained by increasing numbers of Argentina fans. We saw several carloads (one with North Carolina license plates) of white and blue clad supporters hanging out of their windows waving flags above their heads. I realized about that time that the light blue shirt I was wearing might unfairly portray me as an Argentina supporter. I realized immediately afterwards that I had forgotten my luggage at my parents’ house so I couldn’t change clothes.

The first USA fan that my brother and I saw as we pulled into the stadium’s parking lot a mere 5 minutes before kickoff was staggeringly drunk, leaning against the side of his car. Walking past him towards the stadium was a group of Argentina fans dressed in blue and white, bearing their flags, beating on drums and screaming chants in Spanish. We too walked past the drunkard, leaving him to his (presumably sad) fate.

After a few frantic moments of waiting for my girlfriend, Ashley, who had also been delayed by the traffic, we managed to find our seats in Section 320, Row 26, a mere 10 or so rows from the top of Giants Stadium and directly behind one of the goals. We sat down by 7:40, just in time for kickoff, and could just barely make out the numbers on the backs of the players’ jerseys.

I looked around. Our section was comprised nearly entirely of Argentina fans. I heard many speaking – or rather screaming – Spanish, and heard others speaking English. The section was nearly filled, with only a few seats here and there left unoccupied. Our section had the requisite flag-bearers and drum-beaters. I wondered why so many Argentina supporters made the trip. Maybe it was because they’re soccer-crazed; maybe because for many of them it would be their only chance to watch their beloved national team in person.

The energy in the stadium was infectious. It’s one thing to see South American fans go mad on TV, quite another to see tens of thousands of them in person. Drums pounded, flags waved, cameras flashed. Even we Americans got in on the act in the first few minutes, jumping up and down shouting “USA!” There was an entire section of red-clad US fans behind the opposite goal who belted out pre-planned chants for the duration of the game.

As far as the action itself is concerned, I’ll leave that to better voices than mine: http://msn.foxsports.com/soccer/story/8226462/U.S.-raises-its-game-against-the-world's-best. I’ll suffice it to say that while the Argentine side was much better skilled, and their passing was jaw-dropping, the Americans played hard and kept the game competitive. Tim Howard was obviously the man of the hour, but Landon Donovan displayed presence in the center and our midfield played the Argentines evenly on the outsides.

I’d never been to an outdoor professional soccer match before, so everything was new for me: the heaving crowd emotions that ebbed and flowed constantly; the chanting; the knowledgeable fans (a particularly skilled display of one-touch passing by the Argentines drew one of the loudest ovations of the evening). What makes soccer fun to watch on TV makes it even better to watch live: the constant action, the back-and-forth, the beautiful gameplay.

My brother and I were both surprised and impressed that the US kept it even through one half. We were also pretty sure that Argentina’s constant pressure would eventually crack the US defense.

Immediately after halftime, the hot weather seemed to have gotten to the fans. We were all dripping with sweat and the constant cheering of the first half seemed to have abated in the first ten minutes of the second. However, the US began to exert sustained pressure on the Argentines, and there were fewer oh-so-close chances for the Argentinean strikers. The crowd was getting nervous. The drums beat more frantically, the chants of “USA!” grew more hoarse.

It really began to crescendo with the approach of ominous clouds on the horizon, which we in the upper deck could see clearly. You could hear rumbles of apprehension as distant lightning strikes moved closer and closer. Would the rain hold off? Would the refs cancel the game? Who the hell is going to win?

The groans and cheers of the fans grew more intense as the storm drew closer. The rain started shortly before a US corner kick somewhere around the 70th minute. The Argentines parried the US attack but conceded another corner. The rain grew thicker, the lightning flashed brighter and more often. Again the Argentines parry the US strike, and again they concede a corner. The crowd, awakened by the rain and defying the lightning and thunder, began to dance and roar as the US took yet another corner that was once again parried.

I don’t remember whether Argentina conceded yet another corner kick because by then everyone in the stands was jumping up and down as the rain poured down and the lightning and thunder really raged. The game was a backdrop as the fans alternated between shouts of “USA!” and “Argentina!” In a near-frenzy, we cheered after every lightning strike, after every rumble of thunder, after every good play and every bad one.

We were on our feet for the last twenty five minutes, screaming until our voices went hoarse. I don’t think anyone really noticed the final whistle; we were still cheering the lightning strikes.

When we did realize that the players had stopped playing, I was disappointed it was over. I was happy with the outcome, though. I think if either side had won there would have been much more animosity. The US, losers of their past two friendly matches against international powers England and Spain, proved that they might be real contenders at some point in the future. But then again, we’ve been saying that for years now.

Another immediate post-game reaction is to make me want to go see more international soccer games. I’d love to watch the US men play arch-rival Mexico. But this game will always be special. At some point during the thunderstorm, I remember looking around at the rest of the section. Everyone was soaking wet, jumping up and down frantically. And we were all laughing.