BOULDER, Co. — I’m a nervous person. It’s my nature to sweat about everything. I don’t relax well. Even when I’m “relaxing” — reading in a hammock, sitting at the edge of the ocean or a lake — I am stuck thinking of things to do, places to go, the worries of the world (“why do we forget all of our troubles at the beach?” I often wonder and get lost in thinking about Syria, or Ukraine or global warming). I can’t help it. But nothing stresses me out like flying and soccer.

The two combined to torture me on Thursday. I was sweating profusely before even getting on the airplane. I showered and put on antiperspirant and deodorant (both, for real) only a few hours earlier, but there was no stopping my sweat or the stench that comes with it. The U.S. Men’s National Team was taking on Germany and I was to have to watch the game in the air (thanks JetBlue for having TVs and ESPN). I was panicking.

There have been countless stories written with the headline “Has Soccer Finally Arrived in the US.” There have been countless theories about it. The sport has been on the verge of “making it in America” since the orignal NASL days and Pele and the Cosmos. It’s been on the verge of creating a hoopla since the 1994 World Cup and the inception of Major League Soccer. IT’s been on the cusp since the US shocked Portugal at the 2002 and lost to a mighty Germany team in the quarterfinals of that World Cup. It’s been on the edge since David Beckham crossed the Atlantic and joined the Los Angeles Galaxy in 2007. It’s been close since Clint Dempsey returned to MLS from his sojourn around England in 2013. It been even closer since Michael Bradley and Jermaine Defoe joined Toronto FC this year. But the real trick has always been keeping people’s attention and neither the National Team or MLS has been able to do that over the course of a year. That has changed, though. MLS teams attendance continues in an upward swing. The league has a new TV contract worth big bucks.

All of this adds up to “yes, soccer is here even if you old farts in the traditional media don’t want to believe it.”

I am still skeptical of all of this because who really cares if a sport or a team has made it? All I care is that we as a society acknowledge it exists instead of ignoring it. That seems to be happening. Even the snotty sports talk radio programs in Boston have been talking about the sport since the start of the World Cup —plenty of the hosts still don’t understand the sport or even try to, but it’s a start. And a start is all you can ask for because, in reality, every sprot has to grow from nothing. Every movement starts somewhere and breaks through. Usually the biggest breakthrough, though, isn’t a breakthrough at all. It’s just when the sport exists. When it becomes part of the landscape and not a novelty.

I booked this flight for work a while ago. I did not look at the U.S. schedule when doing so. I just wanted to find the cheapest flight from Boston to Denver as possible. I didn’t care when it left or when I returned. So when I realized the U.S. would be playing Germany while I was in the air, flying over the Mississippi River most likely, I panicked. I actually had a full on freakout. I started pulling at my hair and looking for ways to watch the game when I landed without finding out the outcomes, which was unrealistic and something I quickly gave up on. Then I remembered the airline I chose had TVs and inflight television. I quickly looked up what channels were there and saw that OH MY GOD YES, ESPN was listed and the U.S. game was scheduled to be shown. I quickly set about figuring out how to not disturb the people next to me. How to not explode with passion and emotion, or chew my fingers off with anxiety, that often comes when I watch soccer.

My anxiety was eased on one front, but I was still nervous the U.S. might not make it out of the “Group of Death.” I was nervous Ghana would somehow beat Portugal and move through on a tiebreaker. I was nervous as hell and nothing was eased when I arrived at Logan Airport on Thursday morning for my flight. All of my nerves were on high alert. Nothing could stop my foot from tapping as I sat and waited to board the airplane to Denver.

Usually I watch soccer alone, in a bubble of emotions. I watch at my house and take notes these days for work. I often watch from the confines of a press box where I am alone in my own world of analyzing a game. I watch in bars and love it, but I don’t join in on songs or cheers or a lot of the partying. I am stuck in a bubble because I am invested. But I knew this flight would be different. I knew I wouldn’t be struggling alone. As I sat and waited to board my flight talk of the U.S. game started around me. People wanted to know if the game would be on during the flight and if they could watch it — I reassured them they could. Two men decided to give up their seats to people on standby and talked about going to watch the game at a bar and laughed that giving up their seats wasn’t such a bad idea because now they knew they could watch.

We boarded the airplane and I quickly fell asleep. I knew if I stayed awake I’d struggle to focus on anything. So, I closed my eyes as the plan started it’s take off. Two hours until kick-off. I needed a way for time to pass.

When I awoke I plugged my headphones into the headphone jack, turned on ESPN and waited for the game to start. It seemed like everyone around me was doing the same thing. The three women in the row in front of me were flipping through the stations looking for something to watch, but always ended up on ESPN and awaited kick-off like me. The man next to me awoke from his nap once the ball was kicked and quickly turned on ESPN. We were all stuck here, collectively watching a game that mattered to all of us. Everyone seemingly flicked to the other game that determined the Yanks’ fate in this World Cup, the Ghana and Portugal game, whenever a goal was scored. Relief exhaled on the airplane when Portugal took the lead in the 31st minute and then gasps when Ghana tied the game in the 57th minute, just a few minuted after the U.S. fell behind Germany thanks to a Thomas Müller goal. People were on the edge as Ghana carried much of the game against Portugal and threatened the USMNT’s chances of advancing.

Then the air of the airplane lightened, as if the oxygen masks had been released, when Portugal did the U.S. a solid favor and scored in the 80th minute to put Ghana to the sword and all but seal the Red, White and Blue’s advancement to the knockout rounds.

But the moment I remember most came at the close of the U.S.’s game when Clint Dempsey nearly leveled the score in extra time. The American’s captain glanced a header wide from the edge of the six yard box and the woman in front of me slammed back in her seat, smashing it against my knees. She was frustrated like me. She was suffering like I was and looked for a release for those struggles but could only do one thing: push her head back against her seat and apologize to the people next to her. They didn’t care. They felt the same way. They were watching and struggling through the game too. We were all in this together.

The U.S. loss the Germany, 1-0, but still advanced out of their group. It was a loss that felt like a win. They had made it out of the Group of Death alive and ready to fight another day. Belgium awaits on Tuesday.

When I got off the airplane I got on a bus to take me to my rental car. The people who were asking if the game would be on TVs during the flight hopped on the same bus. They had asked me before the flight what I thought Jurgen Klinsmann’s men’s chances were against — they noticed I was wearing a soccer jersey — and I told them I thought the U.S. could get a draw if they played their cards right, but that Germany was excellent and a favorite to win the World Cup. They were also nervous about the game. But I reassured them the U.S. could still advance even if they lost. They were OK with that.

Now they saw me on the bus and asked me about the next game, if the U.S. could beat someone like Belgium. I told them yes, but Belgium is a world class team and many people’s pick to win the tournament. But anything is possible. It’s why you play the games.